Mortal Kombat II at least knows when to cut its losses

And it was satisfying even for someone who, admittedly, didn’t mind Cole Young as the hero of the first film. Someone who cared about their family, with a soft and sweet performance from Into The Badlands badass Lewis Tan—these made up for much of the milquetoast Chosen One signifiers the grab bag of screenwriters foisted upon him in Mortal Kombat (a birthmark of the MK logo, a famous bloodline, etc.). His powers, which manifested as a metallic skintight suit that was able to absorb kinetic energy and then fire it back out like Black Panther (like…exactly like Black Panther), were nothing special, but they at least involved getting hit rather than hitting, something that’s been an underdog action staple since Rocky.

And yet, he was undeniably boring. Much more boring, on paper at least, than Karl Urban playing an action-star egotist more concerned about the state of his hair than the fate of the world. So when Mortal Kombat II spends its brisk exposition on Johnny Cage, packing up his fan convention booth into the trunk of his crappy sedan, it makes sense. This is the foul-mouthed jerk, brimming with personality and snark, who’ll help make this sequel stick. Screenwriter Jeremy Slater didn’t really write any lines to fulfill that goal, nor did Urban receive any direction that would make his performance endearingly dickish, but the intent was clear. It only got more clear during one of the first rounds of the tournament, when Cole Young (who up to that point had almost no lines to speak of) faced off with the film’s big bad, hulking skull fetishist Shao Kahn.

While many other members of the Good Guy squad are killed in the film—presumably so that they can be resurrected in a big exodus from Netherrealm in the third movie—Cole goes down first and fastest. Partially, this is to remind everyone that this Kombat is in fact Mortal, and partially it’s to establish that Shao Kahn isn’t exactly playing by the rules. Newly enhanced by the godlike longevity of Raiden (siphoned via neck wound and magical amulet, naturally), Kahn gets whipped by Cole, his own neck being slit at the end of the fair part of the fight, only for him to heal right up and smash the hero’s head like Gallagher on a good night. 

It’s plenty of mean fun for those of us in the splash zone, but the reality doesn’t quite match the ambition. As novel as it is for a modern franchise to cut its losses and kill off a dull lead, it does point out some bigger flaws with the film itself. Kicking Cole’s melonless body into some goo is viscerally satisfying, but that strands the rest of the movie with Urban’s uninspired performance, the ragtag group of cosplayers hanging around Earthrealm, and the emotional void left by the realization that none of these characters really matter. As others get impaled, burned up, and otherwise torn a new one, the malicious pleasure wears off, leaving the feeling that this course-correction was actually an overcorrection. It’s fun when life and death matter, when consequences are real. It’s less fun when those consequences are the only thing your story has going for it.