Review of Paul Blart: Mall Cop 2 (2015) by Rodger Bradjamin V — 31 Aug 2017

Paul Blart II - Mall Cop.

Paul Blart may at first seem jejune, meager and a sterile attempt at comedia del Sandler era 1996 eg. classical cinema the Waterboy, Mr. Deeds, Billy Maddison, and Happy Gilmore. However, after 12 minutes into the film, I felt that the comedic overtones seemed forced. Watching the scene where Paul is standing at the hotel front desk, and after some light conversating with the conceirge evacuates a draw out vocalization at first thought to possibly be intended as comedy displays itself as the skin of a mid-life human wearing a lacey santa silk nightie somewhat undraped, exposing the spider veins usually shamefully hidden but now showing authenic human beatuy in it's true primal form. The beauty though, is masked at this point and Paul's expression is ineffectual only to be portrayed as homunculus. The true beauty is not only the film itself, but the observation of self.

Comedy. Disesteem. Ing. Extrospection. Introspection. Realization. The essense of life.

One believes to be fit is to propogate and assist in the development and rearing of progeny. However; in the case the elephant seal of Tierra del Fuego recorded by explorer Samuel L. Cook in the late 19th century; the wails of the Omega males resulted in nulled courtship and thus his geneaogical lieage was forever lost. In this example, it is shown in human society that although, it is not formally expressed - it is a hunger. The hunger to be allowed to thrive, although fruitlessly. Opportunities for feasting, socialization and tertiary enjoyment are not liberties the low-tier animal word can secure. In human society - the modern republic, this being was allowed, and desires to be embraced - for it is the uniwitting soul of salvation. It's dead end is one step towards a smaller profit on palm oil in a remote virginal jungle. This figure looked upon as distateful - blunders incuding the elderly woman in the red and white polka dot gown, the stranger man in the shadowed expanse beneath the casino who looks straight into the essence of the protragonist exposing obvious previous trauma in his unblinking gaze, detached from humanity - there is a sense of reminiscence - of the verdant modern degenerate. He looks upon Paul as not a buffoon, but as the eventuality of the human conditon - a facade of ignorance when the truth, hidden not only within the film itself, but in the audience's visceral interpretation reveals itself as the crowd appears before Blart, unsmiling and cruel. "Sluggish" a term describing not only Paul Blart and his confident cajole. It is not merely an artifice, but true confidence as the true hero. He contributes nothing, but consumes less than "success". He is the end of the line, which he has an awareness that the other lines can continue but martyred. It is a story of a dark horse. A view of who we believe wins in life, but nobody wins because you are a large mall cop or you are a rich heterochromatic art thief, or an attractive angel-haired vixen. In the end, your progeny's desire for corn oil and the generations to come, soaked in tradition outnumber Paul Blart's total consumption of oil covered food products ten-fold at least. These epiphanies reveal that we are all Paul Blart, everyone loses in the end, the world is dead, get fat, enjoy life, nothing matters, you're okay, they think they're better and they're not.

"if you believe the purpose of life is to serve yourself - then you have no purpose".

- Paul P. Blart.