‘Venom: Let There Be Carnage’: Tom Hardy’s Sweaty, Cookie Monster Gargle Slop Franchise Is Still A Ridiculous Mess [Review]

Heralded by some advanced irony enthusiasts who normally scorn superhero movies as a batshit gonzo delight, Sony’s original “Venom” film starring Tom Hardy was actually quite bad. Dreadful, really, a near disaster, despite its unfathomable $856 million worldwide gross. Though, to be fair, one can understand where the squeals of pleasantly surprised amusement came from: formulaic superhero films are rarely this silly, wild and absurdist. Those inane qualities, on their face, however, are not necessarily inherently good. And they certainly weren’t enough to disregard the rest of “Venom,” directed by Ruben Fleischer, a mangled mess of a movie, uncertain of what it wanted to be. An anti-hero film? A superhero movie? A campy body horror? A buddy comedy? All of the above, really, and more, but tonally, this grab-bag free-for-all was a disfigured freakshow with most of the actors not actually understanding what kind of movie they were in at the time.

Now directed by actor/director Andy Serkis (“Mowgli: Legend of the Jungle”), with much more filmic coherence— though still just as hyperactive, unremittingly chaotic, and exasperating—it appears everyone is on the same page for “Venom: Let There Be Carnage.” Whereas “Venom” lacked true identity or suffered from disjointed split personality disorder—the original seemingly a comedy only because Tom Hardy willed it to be and Fleischer had no choice but to try and catch up with his mercurial star— ‘Carnage’ seems to fully embrace its ludicrous qualities. Serkis, writer Kelly Marcel, and Hardy are seemingly united on absurdism as the one element everyone enjoyed the most from the first film.

Great, terrific. Theoretically, this accord should make for a better movie, but in doubling down on would-be humor, the already poor, perspiring, flop-sweat CGI mess of Venom actually gets worse and arguably even more incoherent, thanks to the unbearable, overweening quarreling between Brock and Venom and the vaudevillian crazy legs antics and presentation.

Centering on the villain Cletus Kasady (Woody Harrelson, laying it on thick), aka Carnage, a deranged serial killer whose teenaged Romeo and Juliet woes with another nasty, Frances Barrison (Naomie Harris), aka Shriek, form the basis for the movie’s gothic and creepy preface, ‘Let There Be Carnage’ initial channels a campy Halloween-ghoulishness.

Soon, it’s back to the main oddball movie, a zany odd couple buddy comedy featuring loser journalist Eddie Brock (Hardy), and Venom, the thicc daddy total unit symbiote who inhabits his host body. Brock and Venom don’t get along and constantly argue over every decision, including Eddie’s oppressive “no eating people while living in my body” rule. While Jekyll and Hyde in archetypal shape, in some ways, the dynamic mirrors the Banner/Hulk relationship of the recent Marvel movies: the monster, feeling unappreciated and taken for granted for bestowing the human with formidable powers and receiving nothing in return. But instead of conflict-inducing laughs (see “Thor: Ragnarok”), the resentments become a grating and unintelligible eruptions of Looney Tunes-like slapstick squabbling—unyielding preposterous squid tentacles protruding everywhere, turning the already obnoxious and cartoony affair into a queasily, overbearing experience that won’t relent.

The plot, an afterthought, is really too banal to describe in full. Suffice to say it has to do with Kasady being captured for his massacres, the tell-all expose he teases in front of the opportunistic Brock— recently redeemed in his middling journalism career since the events of the last film— and the provoked ire of Mulligan (Stephen Graham), a homicide detective, who has history with Shriek. Blah, blah, blah, Kasady bites Brock, becomes infected, and eventually transforms into the symbiote Carnage, who is Venom turned up to 11 with more glutinous squidward limbs and a blood-red coat of murder paint.

Eventually, Carnage and Shriek hatch a multi-tiered plan of revenge against Brock, Mulligan, and Brock’s ex-fiancée Anne Weying (Michelle Williams), who has recently become engaged to Dan Lewis (Reid Scott). But none of it is remotely essential, or compelling—outside of Harrelson’s deliciously hammy but still moronic performance— much of it just a tacked-on obstacle that complicates the central belligerent bromance of Venom and Brock.

It’s been called a love affair to provoke—and Serkis has some stupid pleasure trying to coax a celebratory gay empowerment theme out of the free-to-be-me, aliens-also-shouldn’t-be-persecuted-for wanting-autonomy notion when Venom goes to a Carnival of the Damned rave (“I’m out of the Eddie closet!” is a real line of dialogue that Venom fistbumps into the air). But really it’s a bromantic friendship-is-a-two-way-story tale about a synergetic relationship that needs committed reciprocation to fully function (Eddie and Venom can’t best gooey bad guys if they’re not on the same team).

Serkis may have experience with warring psyches battling for control (see “The Lord Of Rings” films), but apparently has zero affinity for staging them as enjoyably and entertainingly as the Gollum/Smeagol relationship. Erratic scenes herk, jerk and nearly hurl like a drunken game of whack a mole played by a coked-up Three Stooges—a viscid Venom flange incessantly threatening to slap, eye poke, head conk, nose honk or assault some orifice. The entire thing is so spastic and hysterical, as if amphetamine withdrawal, jittery anxiety, over-caffeination, and a manic episode were smushed together like greasy play-doh slime for special needs kids.

Basic conversations are bizarrely hard to follow too. Brock trying to talk to Mulligan about some banal plot point is ceaselessly interrupted by Venom’s snacklust for bodies, need for control, or some brain tremoring impulse he must expunge through Eddie like some violent Tourette’s outburst. Worse, the sound mix is awful. Venom’s nauseous Cookie Monster washmouth voice always sounds like he’s gargling Mountain Dew while crunching on skull meat—it makes an unintelligible movie all the more nonsensical.

Featuring laughable, dementedly damaged lines seemingly warped from “Clifford” (“I’m a real boy and you’re just an amoeba!”), while ‘Carnage’ does feature some impossibly inane laugh out loud bon mots, the commedia dell’arte, this is not. It’s basically about a clueless boy, trying to stop his hangry imaginary friend from ruining his life.

While largely unpleasant, if risible, there are two small pluses to ‘Venom 2.’ One, at 97 minutes the sequel is mercifully short. Two, when Venom and Eddie Brock briefly break up, the movie finally gives the viewer a humane reprieve from the relentless anarchic clashing between the leads and all the feverish, gooey CGI buffoonery that ensues. Not for nothing, “Carnage,” also has the ignominious distinction of featuring the ugliest photography ever shot from the otherwise great Tarantino DP Robert Richardson (like “Venom” which featured the most hideous cinematography from the usually reliable Matthew Libatique, one has to wonder if Avi Arad has compromising photos of both a lot of people).

The less said about the noisy, anarchic CGI-laden weaboo porn tentacle fest that is the last act—which most resembles a traditional superhero film—the better (and even less about the daft post-credits, which are more of a threat than a tease). Ultimately, ‘Let There Be Carnage’ just wants to facilely say two heads are better than one and cooperation rules. But it’s just overwhelmed by its sweatiness, twitching with the withdrawal from Monster Energy drink energy it emits from its humid pits. Maybe they’d have something more meaningful if they could channel that anxiety to say something about angst or fear. Instead, everyone involved seems content with “Venom” to be a wacky cacophonous clown show that’s so bizarre and outlandish, it somehow mistaken as an innovative oddity within the comic book genre. [D-]