let’s face it : since waterworld floated by , the summer movie season has grown * very * stale .
with no new eye-candy for four weeks straight , we’ve had to sustain ourselves on the quasi-nutritional value of cheatin’ husbands , traveling chocolate salesmen , and computer- generated serial killers .
sigh .
thank god for desperado .
the freewheeling sequel to el mariachi–director robert rodriguez’s notorious $7000 debut–stars a cool antonio banderas as the returning guitarist with no name .
he’s a man in black with revenge on his mind , and an arsenal in his case .
( the woman he loved was killed in the first film . )
so , he spends the entire story shooting drug dealers ; sort of a tex-mex version of the punisher , if you will .
there isn’t much of an emotional core to desperado .
rodriguez is having too much fun finding new and innovative ways to pay homage to john woo .
( and sergio leone . . .
and sam peckinpah . . . )
some may wince at the body count–at least 100 graphic killings is a fair estimate–but it’s all played for laughs .
big , broad , hispanic laughs that , for me , recall the physical comedy of blake edwards and his pink panther films .
sick , slick fun .