"Taylor Sheridan has a taste for writing stories where people of color are a central component, yet their perspectives are ignored."


There is a scene near the end of Sicario: Day of the Soldado where Isabel Reyes (played by Isabela Moner), the kidnapped daughter of a prominent narco, and Alejandro (Benicio del Toro), the US-hired suave killer, come across an impoverished deaf man, Angel (played by Bruno Bichir – renowned Mexican actor and brother to Demián Bichir), who lives with his wife in the middle of the desert. His two-scene intervention is the only instance where innocent, everyday Mexicans are portrayed with minimal humanity in this morally reprehensible sequel.
Exponentially, and unnecessarily, more gruesome than its predecessor, this new installment in the white-bro-fantasy franchise – ripped straight from Call of Duty and Alex Jones’ daily tirades – once again presents an unbalanced perspective in which Mexican bodies pile up under the justification of United States security by any means necessary. Matt Graver (Josh Brolin), the abhorrent embodiment of insensitive US machismo, is never truly observed as a corrupt force and is held up as heroic at times. Instead, the blame is put elsewhere by pitting Mexican-Americans against undocumented immigrants, by depicting nearly all Latin American, African, and Middle Eastern people as criminals, and by having Isabela Moner (who in spite of the context and limitations delivers a touching performance) play a powerless victim.
If you are someone who can actually sit in a theater and watch this film without thinking about its political implications and how it feeds into the Trump narrative (even with its mid-movie glimpses of truth) then this is clearly for you. For the rest of us who believe there should be a certain level of responsibility to what’s put on screen, the mere existence of a work so blatantly obtuse signals the terrifying possibility that those who already dismiss the lives of immigrants and Muslims will find new ammunition for their hatred here.
It’s not that cinema shouldn’t explore the complex relationship between Mexico and the United States in a provocative manner, the problem is that writer Taylor Sheridan has a taste for writing stories where people of color are a central component, yet their perspectives are ignored (see Wind River as another example). He makes it obvious that his gaze is that of a straight white American male who can write a good thriller, but gives little importance to non-white characters aside from making sure stereotypes are perpetuated.