Viewers who got the suddenly astute 21 Jump Street adjustment two years prior will review the amazing commitment (and still more great level of incongruity) with which the motion picture clung to equation: the undercover cops in secondary school, the scourge of another medication on grounds, the central station in a deconsecrated house of prayer. By difference, the motion picture's continuation, 22 Jump Street, opens with something new: accomplices Schmidt (Jonah Hill) and Jenko (Channing Tatum), as grown-ups, arranging or rather attempting to stage—a moderately routine medication bust. The arrangement, I think any reasonable person would agree, is best case scenario a moderate dissatisfaction, building up and finally finishing in a Hill-caught with-an-octopus choke that is a pale shadow of his trials with a phone line in a year ago The Wolf of Wall Street.
Anyway exactly when we expect that this may be turning out to be one of a lot of people, a lot of people half baked comic drama continuations, 22 Jump Street indicates that the joke is on us. That beginning mission having demonstrated a failure (by law-requirement and comedic models apparently equivalent), Schmidt and Jenko are called into the workplace of Deputy Chief Hardy (Nick Offerman), who educates them—in a radiantly meta wind on his as of now meta discourse in the first motion picture that the new recipe isn't meeting expectations. He needs them to do a reversal to doing "the same thing once more." Schmidt and Jenko challenge (with a decent White House Down joke tossed in for great measure), however Hardy is resolute. The trappings may be distinctive this time—school as opposed to secondary school, an alternate manufactured pill to be found, another church HQ over the street from the old one at, yes, 22 Jump Street—yet he needs the couple again on script: "Same personalities. Same chore. Invade the merchant. Find the supplier." Having along these lines rebooted itself as a reboot of the first reboot, 22 Jump Street never thinks back—or all the more exactly, the motion picture hardly quits thinking back long enough to do all else.
Self-referential incongruity is barely another trick, having served as the underlying reason for such establishments as Scream and Austin Powers, however infrequently has it been reveled with such enthusiasm. There are riffs on the keep going motion picture's suspect graph, on the famous/disliked reversal that occurred between the accomplices, and on Jenko taking a projectile for Schmidt. There are progressing jokes about the bigger plan of this trip ("as though that could twofold the benefits," sighs Hardy) and whether Schmidt and Jenko ought to enjoy a reprieve from their relationship to "examine diverse individuals." Past cast parts return for extended parts (Ice Cube) and concise appearances (Rob Riggle, Dave Franco) apparently equivalent. There's even a cameo by—well, I'll give you a chance to figure, however its not Johnny Depp.
Crisp stiflers are taken off also, on subjects from Dora the Explorer to Destiny's Child to Cate Blanchett to Harvey Milk. There's a grandly diagonal reference to Annie Hall (single word: lobsters) and apparently the most huge between sex scuffle since Patricia Arquette corkscrewed James Gandolfini in True Romance.
Like its forerunner, 22 Jump Street is controlled by Phil Lord and Christopher Miller (Cloudy with a Chance of Meatballs, The Lego Movie) from a script by Michael Bacall (with Oren Uziel and Rodney Rothman), who again co-composed the first medicine with Hill. The result is a spin-off that, while lewder and looser than the first, holds its agreeable comic rhythms. Slope and Tatum again show a simple science, and newcomer Jillian Bell is level out breathtaking as the irritable flat mate of Schmidt's adoration interest (Amber Stevens).
22 Jump Street hangs in spots, and a couple of minutes could have been agreeably shaved from its 112-moment running time, maybe by reducing the recognizable bromantic difficulties between the leads. Anyhow almost as the film winds down into its destined decision, it presents one more thought dosage of cleverness, with a credit succession that is among the best bits in the film—and one that, surely, will let go any inquiry of an alternate continuation. "No one cared at about the Jump Street reboot," Deputy Chief Hardy reminded his charges in his area room gusto talk, "yet you got fortunate." Remarkably, 22 Jump Street seems insidious and winking enough to develop that lucky streak.
Be that as it may we should not push it.
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