Code 8: Part II 2024 Tv Show Series Cast Crew Online
First, a quick summary of the concept: The made-up city of Lincoln City. It might be the future, but if so, it’s not too far ahead of where we are now. Four percent of the population is born with superpowers, but don’t you DARE call them mutants. They’re shunned by the rest of society – they’re part of the poor working class, and cops, especially the corrupt ones, love to harass them and round them up and sic their Chappie-esque robot officers on them, but don’t you DARE call them RoboCops. You’re surely already familiar with some of the powers: they’re self-explanatory “pyros” and “electrics” and “brawns,” stuff like that. They don’t wear spandex tights and big billowy capes, so they blend in with the rest of society, although whenever they use their abilities, their eyes glow blue.
So: Five years have passed since the end of the first movie, when Connor (Robbie Amell), an electric, went to prison, falling on the grenade for Garrett (Stephen Amell), a telekinetic who runs a criminal network that distributes psyke, a drug made from the spinal fluid of PWPs (people with powers). Connor gets outta the clink and Garrett pulls up alongside him and tries to pick him up but Connor wants to return to the straight and narrow. Six months after that, Connor mopily mops floors and cleans toilets at a barren community center, then goes home to slup ramen over the sink and shoot some psyke. Garrett headquarters his drug biz in a project-housing tower, and he claims the money he makes goes toward supporting the ghettoized PWP community; he pays off the cops, led by the crooked Sgt. “King” Kingston (Alex Mallari Jr.), to keep their hands off. Meanwhile, the cops are phasing out the violent-ass Chappies due to bad PR, replacing them with creepy robot dogs programmed to be nonlethal. And if you believe that, I have an Amway timeshare bridge to sell you.
We’re introduced to a couple of new characters in Tarak (Sammy Azero), who has chameleon-ish abilities to change his skin color and blend into his surroundings, and his 14-year-old sister Pavani (Sirena Gulamgaus), who can control and manipulate things of an electronical nature, which might come in handy if, oh, say, Tarak tries to steal bribe money from the cops – why? Sis needs schoolbooks, which is a step down from the previous movie’s sad-trombone my-mom-is-sick-and-can’t-pay-the-medical-bills plot – and ends up hunted by one of the robodogs, which injects him with a lethal dose of psyke but also records everything it sees and therefore has video on it that can be shared with the world if anyone should want to expose police corruption. If that does indeed happen, then it’d be pretty wild if Connor got tangled in it, and ended up making an uneasy alliance with Garrett in order to protect Pavani from Sgt. King and his minions. Will our two dudes grimace as they hold their hands out and let a special effect launch from them, and take down the pigs? The former, almost certainly. The latter, well, NO SPOILERS, chum.
Netflix has force-fed its algorithm with so many direct-to-VOD titles that end up in the Top 10 – vaguely faith-based movies and a few of those Sniper flicks come to mind – that it’s starting to make movies just like them. Case in point, Code 8: Part II, which boasts respectable direction, pacing and visual effects, but would look incredibly blah in a theatrical setting. It’s conceptually solid, exploring the superhuman-powers idea in a realistic setting, and it does medium-scale things on a small-scale budget. But it’s hard to get too excited about any of it, from the drab visual palette to the overly familiar plot, which incorporates crime-syndicate drama with light sci-fi, adding in social commentary about bad cops that it wields like a big dumb cudgel.
This is to say, it’s almost the exact same formula as the first Code 8, although it at least featured a big centerpiece heist sequence, where Part II does nothing quite as memorable, relatively speaking. It incorporates a variety of cliches: Sad but powerful orphan, a just-when-I-thought-I-was-out-they-pull-me-back-in character arc, arrogant bad guy, a couple of “unexpected” twists, etc. Park at least breaks up the drab monotony of the movie’s urban-grit visual aesthetic with a variety of almost-exciting by-the-numbers action sequences, although his indulgence of cornball slo-mo when Conner unleashes the ol zaparoo from his hands is an unintentionally funny invocation of Netflix’s favorite house director, Zack Snyder. Park directs his cast like he’s telling them all to pretend they have migraines, and the grit-your-teeth, no-fun vibe cuts through the screen and lands with a whump right there in your living room.
