The three most glamorous and butt-kicking private detectives in the business are back and ready to take on bad guys in this sequel to the 2000 blockbuster screen adaptation of the popular television series. Dylan, Natalie and Alex are once again summoned to the office of their boss Charlie, where they're introduced to his new right-hand man Jimmy Bosley (Bernie Mac) and given their latest assignment. It seems a pair of rings have gone missing and need to be recovered, but this was no ordinary jewel heist — the rings have been coded with special information that can be used to access a list of every person in the FBI's Witness Protection Program, and when a handful of protected informants are murdered, the Angels are brought in to help crack the case. As the women search for the culprits, they encounter Madison Lee (Demi Moore), one of Charlie's former agents who decided that the wrong side of the law pays better, and Seamus (Justin Theroux), who once dated Dylan and wants revenge for her decision to turn him over to the police. Luke Wilson and Matt LeBlanc return as (respectively) Natalie and Alex's love interests, as does Crispin Glover as the Thin Man; John Cleese, Robert Forster, and Eric Bogosian also appear in supporting roles.

Directed by McG Produced by Drew Barrymore Leonard Goldberg Nancy Juvonen Written by John August Cormac Wibberley Marianne Wibberley Starring Cameron Diaz Drew Barrymore Lucy Liu Bernie Mac Demi Moore John Cleese Robert Patrick Crispin Glover Music Ed Shearmur Distributed by Columbia Pictures Release date June 27, 2003 Running Time 106 minutes

The original “Charlie’s Angels,” released back in 2000, was much more than an unexpected smash at the box office; it was a film that held alarming quality for such a popcorn romp. I went into the picture back then with arms folded, expecting that disappointment was a feeling I would have in spades. However, as soon as Crispin Glover’s “Creepy Thin Man” character (a role he recreates for the sequel) cart-wheeled through a narrow gap between closed iron gates, and Prodigy’s “Smack My Bitch Up” began to blare on the soundtrack, my senses came alive. For the next 90 minutes of film, I was completely taken by director McG’s frenzied vision, and three lead actresses who looked as though they were having the time of their lives. I simply adored “Charlie’s Angels,” and I hoped McG wasn’t going to ruin the fun with an indulgent sequel. All he had to do was just focus on the features that made the original such a welcome kick in the teeth. In “Full Throttle,” McG does exactly that. The new film is a raging, out of control house fire that isn’t put out until the last flicker of celluloid passes through the projector. While other summer films pretend they’re a blast of adrenaline and delight (*cough* “2 Fast 2 Furious” *cough*), “Full Throttle” just is without breaking a sweat. McG has learned the formula for these films very quickly, and brings on another onslaught of one-liners, swirling asses, and the very latest in fashion and design. He is cocked and loaded to the gills with more money and an even bigger desire to outdo himself, which for a former music video director means one thing: extravagance beyond measure.

McG throws every conceivable detail into “Full Throttle,” whether it’s the film’s supporting actors and cameos (Luke Wilson and Matt LeBlanc return, joining John Cleese, Bruce Willis, “Jackass’s” Chris Pontius, Pink, The Olsen Twins, and an Angel from a past life), the many film and television parodies or homages (“Cape Fear,” “Flashdance,” “C.S.I.”), or the opulence his gives to the local of Los Angeles, even using a Hollywood film premiere as the location for the film’s climax.

 McG also brings in the hippest in sports to find his set pieces, including a “Matrixesque” shootout at a motocross track, and Alex’s attempt at street-luging to trail one of bad guys. “Full Throttle” is an exceedingly busy film, whereas “Angels” was simply trying on different tones and styles to see what fit. Thankfully, McG never permits the film to be crushed under its own weight. The picture is far too swift and lovable for that. Though it cannot repeat that fortunate element of surprise that “Angels” had in its favor, it does match the previous film in entertainment value and highly caloric PG-13 eye candy.

In a weird reversal of tone, McG has taken away the individuality of the fight scenes and pumped them into the dramatic subplots. Gone are the pure moments of slap fight ecstasy found in the original, like Dylan’s one-woman symphonic “That’s what they call kicking your ass!” throw down. In “Full Throttle,” the action is staged much more claustrophobically, utilizes more teamwork, and is emphasized with more CGI and less “wire fu.” Because McG is such a breathless filmmaker, the picture is never held down by its extravagances, and he balances the fists of fury with a more expanded storyline this time out. This go around, McG breaks up the team often to pursue their own plot threads which allows each Angel much more character time. This greatly contrasts the first film, which rarely split the team apart. The pursuit of a slightly more profound character understanding shows growth and care within a film that can’t be bothered with such things. “Full Throttle” might not have pivotal fight scenes to define itself (though Madison’s tussle with the Angels on the roof of the Griffith Park Observatory comes awfully close), but the action is still marvelous to watch, and McG keeps it all in check with his large sense of humor and frantic eye.

Boy, if they could find a way to siphon the energy off of Cameron Diaz’s smile, we wouldn’t face another energy crisis ever again. While the “Angels” films feature three leading ladies, it is Diaz and her endless beaming smile and dork affectation that keep the films alive. More fun here than any other movie she’s done, Diaz is the shining million watt bulb within the free-for-all style of “Full Throttle.” Drew Barrymore has the delicious tough chick role down pat, and Lucy Liu is growing more confident with her comedy, but Diaz is a glowing center of the trio. Even when McG has her on a men’s room toilet during one scene, she’s still the most radiant thing on God’s green earth.

Director McG noted: "This time in keeping with what we wanted for the whole picture, it's grittier, tougher, rougher; it feels like you're in the middle of Raging Bull. ... It is more tough than the first one, I think the girls have got the bruises to prove that."

Much has been made about Demi Moore’s return to the big screen after a three year absence. Her role is actually quite a bit smaller than reported, but she eats up the screen nonetheless, with a performance that revels entirely in playing bad. Glammed up even more than the leads, Moore is dazzling to behold. “Full Throttle” is a nice homecoming for the oft-misused actress.

Once again, John Forsythe lends his voice as the unseen Charlie, just as he did in the original TV series, and Jaclyn Smith puts in an appearance as original Angel Kelly Garrett. We catch only a fleeting glimpse of Farrah Fawcett and Kate Jackson in pictures on the wall in Charlie's office.

Production makes marvelous use of iconic Los Angeles locations, from Griffith Observatory (not seen in cinema to this extent since "Rebel Without a Cause") to the Hermosa Beach strand to Musso & Frank Grill, and is one a series of recent actioners ("The Italian Job," "Hollywood Homicide") to film extensively on revitalized Hollywood Boulevard.