Depending on who you ask, The Boondock Saints was either a gritty cult classic or an over-hyped bar fight, merely proof that nostalgia looks especially "Sean Patrick-flattering" through shamrock-coloured glasses. Regardless of which side of the pew you sit on in that debate, one thing is certain: its follow-up, The Boondock Saints II: All Saints Day, leaves its viewers praying for a MacManus brothers–style mercy killing faster than you can say Ding Dong.

Where do we even begin? Between the unforgivable "accents", nightmare performances, high-school-locker-room screenplay, a weird (but thankfully, brief) left turn into the manosphere, and a plot with more holes than a rosary has beads, all we can do is thank the saints of cinema that Billy Connolly and Willem Dafoe took pity upon the fans and reprised their roles in this dumpster-fire-at-the-end-of-the-rainbow of a movie.

Special thanks also to Norman Reedus for helping keep the dream alive. We're grateful there were a few moments of flabbergasting, laugh-out-loud stupidity to cling to, but make no mistake, this film remains a black mark on Boston, Ireland, the film industry, perhaps even Bushmills Distillery... and, yes, my own immortal soul.

You look like you could use a supersized ofder of freedom fries!

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