Producer: Peter Safran   Director: David F. Sandberg   Screenplay: Henry Gayden and Chris Morgan   Cast:  Zachary Levi, Asher Angel, Jack Dylan Grazer, Rachel Zegler, Adam Brody, Grace Caroline Curry, Ross Butler, Meagan Good, Ian Chen, Faithe Herman, D.J. Cotrona, Jovan Armand, Marta Milans, Cooper Andrews, P.J. Byrne, Lucy Liu, Djimon Hounsou and Helen Mirren    Distributor: Warner Bros

Grade: C

When David F. Sandberg’s “Shazam!,” based on the DC comics series, came out in 2019, it was a pleasant surprise.  Among bloated, pompous superhero movies, it stood out for its goofy comic-book sensibility, its refusal to take itself seriously, and despite a last-act turn to CGI excess, its relative modesty.  In short, in was an amusing lark, targeted at younger fans rather than committed fanboys.

The inevitable sequel, subtitled “Fury of the Gods,” tries for a similar vibe, but falls far short of the goal.  An uneasy mixture of YA superhero flick, warmhearted family movie, and effects-laden action picture, it proves once again that more does not translate to better. 

Like the first movie (at least in its last act), “Fury” is an ensemble superhero effort.  The lead hero is again Shazam (Zachary Levi), the spandex-suited muscle-man who’s the alter-ego of teen Billy Batson (Asher Angel), endowed with his magical powers by the Ancient Wizard (Djimon Hounsou) but still left with the teen’s immature, insecure personality.  But at the close of the first film in order to save the day he shared his powers with the fellow youngsters in the foster-home run by likable couple Rosa and Victor Vásquez (Marta Milans and Cooper Andrews). 

That means that there’s a corps of teens who can morph into super-powered Shazam-ites.  The oldest is Mary (played in both guises by Grace Caroline Curry, who was billed as Grace Fulton in the first film, in which Michelle Borth played the transformed version).  Then there’s physically disabled Freddy (Jack Dylan Grazer, though Adam Brody takes over in his superhero form); Eugene (Ian Chen, who morphs into Ross Butler); Darla (Faithe Herman, whose morphed form is played by Meagan Good); and Pedro (Jovan Armand, whose superhero version is played by D.J. Cotrona).  In an opening set-piece they all engage in the rescue of people trapped on a collapsing bridge, but since they fail to save the structure itself, they’re dubbed the “Philadelphia Fiascos” by unimpressed locals.

But the detractors come to feel differently when they need protection from a trio of ancient Greek deities, the daughters of Atlas—Kalypso (Lucy Liu), Anthea (Rachel Zegler) and Hespera (unbelievably, Helen Mirren)—who had been exiled for millennia but escaped, captured the Wizard, and managed to take possession of his magic staff, broken by Shazam in the first picture, with which they intend to defeat his champions, enslave or destroy humanity, and rule the world.  They capture Freddy through a ruse, dimorph most of the team, and raise up a bevy of monsters—a CGI dragon and a bunch of other ugly critters that look as though they were modeled on Ray Harryhausen’s old stop-motion beasties.  Fortunately Shazam proves a worthy champion, his comrades fight on despite being deprived of their powers, and two of the daughters of Atlas have second thoughts about their destructive plan.

There are some laughs in “Fury of the Gods”—an opening session involving P.J. Byrne as a pediatrician is clever, Hounsou proves adept at delivering the Wizard’s barbs, and Glazer remains, as he was in the previous movie, a comic sparkplug as geeky Freddy.  (Brody’s preening complements his nerdiness nicely.)

But much of the humor is lackluster and juvenile, like a bit involving Skittles and unicorns that feels stolen directly from the Reese’s Pieces gag from “E.T.”  And for all his energy, Levi’s mugging is on overdrive, and comes off more desperate than engaging.  The rest of the Shazam crew are a fairly bland bunch, and while Zegler exhibits some of the charm she showed in her “West Side Story” debut, neither Liu nor Mirren does anything distinctive.  There’s an appearance by a DCU star—who shall not be revealed here—toward the close (and it’s not like the silly headless shot of Superman at the end of the first movie, which is in fact ridiculed earlier), but it doesn’t amount to much apart from another opportunity to focus on Billy’s teen hormones.   

The picture also sometimes goes off the rails in terms of action violence.  One character is compelled to jump off a roof to his death, and when the Harryhausen-like critters appear, they’re shown battering some humans pretty badly.  It might be a bit much for very young viewers.  (On the other hand, the two bullies who mistreat Freddy toward the start seem to get off unscathed; surely they deserve some retribution.)  The effects, moreover, aren’t exactly top-grade, though otherwise the technical side of things—Paul Kirby’s production design, Gyula Pados’ cinematography, Michel Aller’s editing—passes muster.  Christophe Beck’s score is predictably overblown.

One might compare “Fury of the Gods” to the “Percy Jackson” movies of a decade or so ago; that series wasn’t terrible, but it couldn’t get past two installments (though it’s now spawning a streaming series), and despite a couple of closing-credit added scenes that point to continuation of the “Shazam!” franchise, it might not be able to, either. 

But the first movie was fun.

Producers: William Sherak, James Vanderbilt and Paul Neinstein   Directors: Matt Bettinelli-Olpin and Tyler Gillett   Screenplay: James Vanderbilt and Guy Busick   Cast: Melissa Barrera, Jasmin Savoy Brown, Jack Champion, Henry Czerny, Mason Gooding, Roger L. Jackson, Liana Liberato, Dermot Mulroney, Devyn Nekoda, Jenna Ortega, Tony Revolori, Josh Segarra, Samara Weaving, Hayden Panettiere and Courtney Cox   Distributor: Paramount Pictures

Grade: C

It’s axiomatic that sequels to franchise horror movies have to get gaudier and evermore over-the-top to capture fans’ attention another time.  That was certainly the case with the first round of the “Scream” slasher series which ran for three installments between 1996 and 2000 before being exhumed for a fourth outing in 2011.  It also apples to this first sequel to the so-called “requel” of 2022, which was simply called “Scream” again, like the 1996 picture. 

It’s not merely that “Scream VI”—the first in the series to use a Roman rather than Arabic number, perhaps to distinguish it from the first quadrilogy—is, at 123 minutes, longer than any of its predecessors (though not, admittedly, by much).  It’s that it has more bodies and more gore, though fewer laughs and genuine scares.  It also boasts a solution to the perennial question of “who’s behind the mask?” that’s more convoluted and absurd than those in any of the earlier installments (which is saying quite a lot), explained in a final confrontation that frankly seems to go on forever.

What it does not have, however, is the star who until now has tied all the movies together—Neve Campbell as the archetypal last girl standing, Sidney.  With Campbell reportedly opting out over salary issues, her character’s absence is explained in a throwaway bit of dialogue that leaves open the possibility of her reappearance at some future date.

There are, however, other returnees from the 2022 reboot.  Four are young survivors, half-sisters Samantha and Tara Carpenter (Melissa Barrera and Jenna Ortega).  Tara has come to New York City to study at Blackmore College, and Sam to protect her.  Also on hand are twins Mindy and Chad Meeks-Martin (Jasmin Savoy Brown and Mason Gooding).  She’s the expert on horror movies who can provide all the self-referential data on the genre the series is famous for, and he’s the hunky good guy.  And though Sidney is AWOL, a couple of older survivors return: Kirby Reed (Hayden Panettiere), a youngster from “Scream 4” who’d become an FBI agent in the previous film, and author-broadcaster Gale Weathers (Courtney Cox), who’s been a series staple since the 1996 original.  Skeet Ulrich even makes an appearance as a spectral Billy Loomis.  (Series fans will recognize all these folks; first-time viewers should probably study up before coming to the theatre.)  

There are newbies, too.  Several are roomies: Quinn (Liana Liberato) shares an apartment with Sam and Tara and Anika (Devyn Nekoda) is Mindy’s significant other, while Ethan (Jack Champion) is Chad’s dorm mate.  Sam, meanwhile, is involved with Danny (Josh Segarra), the handsome guy down the hall, and is seeing a psychiatrist (Henry Czerny) in an attempt to deal with her trauma, which stems not only from her experiences in the previous film but an online campaign accusing her of murder since then.  Veteran Dermot Mulroney shows up as Quinn’s father, a police detective; it’s amazing how much he’s come to resemble Mel Gibson.

It would be improper to reveal too much about the convolutions of the plot; suffice it to say that violence is always around the corner and the issue of who’s behind the Ghostface mask (or masks, since those from previous installments are part of the puzzle) is constantly front and center.  There’s a plethora of killings here—most involve knives, but firearms make occasional appearances as well, and returning directors Matt Bettinelli-Olpin and Tyler Gillett show considerable skill in choreographing them, with a few outstanding episodes.  One is the obligatory opening telephone call, here involving a university professor of film studies (Samara Weaving) and the blind date she’s awaiting at a trendy but difficult-to-find bar, which is cheekily staged but, in the end, a diversionary tactic featuring one of her students (Tony Revolori).  Another is a protracted confrontation between Ghostface and Weathers.  But the best is an amusing sequence set on a subway car crammed with Halloween revelers, many of whom are wearing the masks of scary movie monsters—not just Ghostface but Jason and Michael Myers.  It goes on rather long, but generates a genuine sense of menace and suspense, rare in today’s horror movies, where the quick cut-and-slash is usually the norm. 

There is a problem, however, here and elsewhere (especially the exposition-filled finale), with the victims of attacks.  Some stay dead but others don’t, frequently popping back up after suffering what would seem certain fatal wounds.  It’s a trope that grows increasingly tiresome as the plot careens on, reaching a climax that strains logic, never a strong point in “Scream” movies to begin with, well past the breaking point.  If there is yet another sequel—as seems likely—the writers will have a hard time outdoing the absurdity of what’s offered this time around.

Still, there doubtlessly will be a “Scream VII,” and there will be a number of survivors from this installment to populate it.  No fair specifying which, but it isn’t unfair to say that it’s a relatively small number.  For the moment it’s enough to point out that all the cast in this movie acquit themselves well enough.  It’s true that these are hardly actors’ showcases—they call for a degree of drooling excess that would usually be derided but in such fare is de rigeuer—and both veterans and newcomers happily comply with expectations.  So do the technical crew: production designer Michele Laliberte may not be able to transform Montreal, where the movie was shot, into a convincing stand-in for NYC, but she does a good job creating what amounts to a fans’ museum of bric-a-brac from previous installments in the series, while cinematographer Brett Jutkiewicz and editor Jay Prychidny collaborate with the directors in crafting those shrewd action set-pieces, even if the energy sags toward the close.  The score by Sven Faulconer and Brian Tyler is predictably frantic.

The studio has asked critics to avoid spoilers in their reviews, but one is irresistible.  So SPOILER ALERT: “Scream VI” will probably satisfy series devotees, but proves that any originality that the 1996 movie possessed is long gone.  These movies are now effectively nothing more than parodies of themselves, and parodies of parodies are eventually a dead end in more ways than one.