Trying to write a review of 22
Jump Street—which I’ve been putting off for as long as humanly possible—I
find myself at a loss. Not because I don’t have anything to say about this sly,
self-referencing movie, but because there doesn’t seem to be any need for it.
The film is critic-proof, reviewing itself as it goes along. It’s a buddy cop
movie about the conventions of buddy cop movies, a sequel about the appeal and
downside of sequels, a low expectation summer blockbuster about the low
expectations of all summer blockbusters. Basically, it wants to eat its genre
parody cake and have it too.
In the
first movie, the 2012 hit that borrowed its title and undercover brother
shtick from the old television
show best known for making every ’80s teenage girl in America and beyond fall in
love with Johnny
Depp, the Jump Street operation was restarted, Chief Hardy (Nick Offerman)
explains, because “The guys in charge of this stuff lack creativity and are
completely out of ideas.” That may have registered as a jab at the studio
powers that be, but in reality it’s a smiling affirmation that the guys in
charge know precisely what they’re doing.
