The first Paul Blart movie was fairly inoffensive. Much like its titular hero, it was buffoonish and loud and something to simply shrug and ignore the idiocy. It had a couple funny moments tweaking action movie conventions, less so with Kevin James' numerous pratfalls. The world didn't need a sequel beyond the demands of the first one making money. And much like the Die Hard sequels, the "spiritual forbearer" of Blart, our security guard finds himself miraculously being put in the same miraculous position again, this time in a different location. While Die Hard 2 is a fairly mundane follow-up, Paul Blart: Mall Cop 2 is a true test of everything we hold sacred. Midway into the movie, I thought my review was just going to be my unintelligible suicide note. Blart (James) is in Las Vegas for an annual security convention. He's brought along his teen daughter Maya (Rami Rodriguez) for some valuable father-daughter time, especially in light of Blart losing his wife and mother. It's at this convention where Blart runs across a team of art thieves lead by Vincent (Neal McDonough). It's up to the most unlikely mall security cop to save the day again, Vegas-style. Oh, and when traveling in Vegas, make sure to stay at the luxurious Wynn Casino and Hotel. Can I get a check too for the self-promotion like this movie? Somewhere along the way, James and co-writer Nick Bakay decided the lovable lug needed to be a modern-day Pagliacci and be the crying clown America deserves. The opening act feels like notorious cinematic sadist Lars von Trier designed it. In the opening minutes, Blart's wife (Jayma Mayes) divorces him not even a full week into marriage. She couldn't stop vomiting from the thought of being married to him (this literally happens). His mother is run over and killed by a milk truck. His daughter has been accepted into college but fears telling her father this joyous news because she doesn't want to push him over the edge. This and he's still emasculated and looked down upon by an assortment of industry peers at the Vegas convention. All of this culminates in Blart becoming a paranoid, overbearing bully who loses the sense of likeability that comes naturally to James even in dreck. Take a moment where Blart intervenes with his drunken friend. The guy has been obnoxiously making sexual advances on a woman (played by Adam Sandler's wife) who just wants her privacy respected, and Blart saves the day by... convincing the woman that she should be flattered by the drunk's advances. Yeah. He rejects his daughter's academic accomplishment and demands she attend a lesser school closer to home for his own selfish benefit. He's pushing her away. Then there's the weird ongoing joke about his arrogant assumption that an attractive hotel employee is hitting on him; he's dismissive of her throughout and, here's the weird part, it ends up working. She falls for him ("I can't say no to you"). That's right folks, Paul Blart successfully "negged" himself a date. He's not a loveable loser any more. He's just an angry, bullying, self-pitying loser. There won't be a joke (I'll be charitable and refer to the as "jokes") that you won't see coming a mile away and still roll your eyes when they arrive. When the movie has an exotic bird walk out, you know it's only a matter of seconds before it comically engages in a fight with Blart. When he steps back onto the familiar confines of a Segwey, you know it's only a matter of seconds before he does something stupid. The crux of the humor of this movie is about 90 minutes of a fat guy falling down, and it still takes 47 minutes for the plot to get in gear. Let me repeat that for those in the cheap seats: a movie that is built upon the frail premise of being a Die Hard parody takes 47 unholy minutes to actually have its plot kick into gear. I watched Blart fight a stupid bird before the movie had the villain's scheme play out. Naturally, the film would have been bereft without that man-on-bird action (sorry to disappoint those who came here vis-à-vis a salacious SEO keyword search). Likewise we needed 28 shots of James falling over. Anything less would have been unacceptable to the viewing public. If you're going to be a dumb comedy just be a dumb comedy and don't waste my time. And oh what a dumb comedy it is. The first Blart film wasn't going to be confused with Tom Stoppard but it at least had some action conventions it could tweak. This go-round can't even manage that, and so we're inundated with tired slapstick and comedy that rarely rises above the most obvious joke at every opportunity. Blart gets ready to attack an intruder and, wouldn't you know it, he ends up punching an old lady. Hilarious. Even funnier is that the injured hospitality worker apologizes to her attacker. There's also a thinly disguised gay panic joke where Blart freaks out when a guy eats a brown banana. Who cares about how brown a banana is? At one point Blart hides inside a suitcase positioned at the top of the stairs. Why? Well so that the suitcase can fall down those stairs and hit the bad guy in the head. Don't you get it? He's fat. There are few comic setups or developments, no payoffs. Scenarios that should be comic, like Blart stumbling on stage of a Vegas dance show, are practically played straight, with the visual of Blart cavorting his large torso as the only joke itself. In case you forgot, he's fat. I should not have been expecting much from Paul Blart 2 simply by the choice of jokes highlighted in the trailer. If you wanted a cursory reminder, it included Blart fighting a bird, Blart punching an old lady, Blart running into a plate glass window, and Blart getting kicked by a horse in what should be a spine-obliterating accident. Let's take this last gag and really explore how it's indicative of Paul Blart 2. The foundation is a dumb act of slapstick, but that's not good enough and so it's exaggerated to even dumber magnitude. With the help of self-loathing CGI artists (they can't all be Jurassic World), Blart ricochets across a street and violently bounces against a car door. It's not enough that a horse kicks this guy; he has to get kicked by a super horse because it just wasn't funny enough. That sums up the comic ethic of Paul Blart 2: when stupid isn't enough, amp it further, and then be proud about what you've done. Nate's Grade: D