Reviews provided by RottenTomatoes
New York Post:
It's the kind of movie you pause to watch when it's on TV, but after half an hour, you'll click over to something else.
A surprisingly long-lived gag finally runs out of gas in Robert Rodriguez's noticeably duller, less outrageous sequel to 'Machete.'
Its tongue is jammed so far in its cheek that it scans, at least in parts, like an Austin Powers movie, albeit one with multiple beheadings and disembowelings.
A conceptual throwback, to days when Roger Corman and other low-budget mavericks gleefully deemed any crazy idea worth tossing into a movie.
"Machete Kills" is barely a movie. It's an inside joke wrapped in a fanboy fantasy, pieced together through a haze of ironic detachment.
Rodriguez's only real sin as a filmmaker is that he wants to give you way too much of a crazy ultraviolent good time.
All of the silliness would be a bit more fun if it weren't so exhausting.
Machete may kill, but on the second time around his repetitious, deadpan brand of humor really doesn't so much.
Los Angeles Times:
The strongest example yet of the corner [Rodriguez] seems to have painted himself into, a sad funhouse of bad movies made in thrall of bad movies.
Even a movie where Sofia Vergara wears a strap-on crotch gun is less crazy than our national conversation about immigration
It's saved by an enjoyably loopy script, several surprisingly strong performances, and the inventive direction of Robert Rodriguez, whose low-budget creativity is a performance in itself.
Endless assault weapons, exploding helicopters, crashing cars and floors splattered with blood, limbs and entrails, all adding up to nothing.
Where the first film reflected its simple roots by not reaching for too much, here it too often feels like Rodriguez is trying too hard to impress.
New York Times:
Until your eyes glaze over after about a half-hour, "Machete Kills" might put a twisted smirk of guilty amusement on your face.
Machete Kills is a film in which style sardonically routs substance, a cloying gag built around the iconic quality of Trejo's matchlessly craggy face, which resembles a plate of sundried corned beef.
Machete Kills plays like a joke that's been told a few times too often.
San Francisco Chronicle:
"Machete Kills" is exploitation cinema, in the same way that a teen who pays $28 at the mall for a Sex Pistols T-shirt is a punk rocker.
St. Louis Post-Dispatch:
When a celebrity chef like Rodriguez is just going through the motions, we can smell that the grindhouse fad is way past its expiration date. It's time to put a fork in it.
Machete Kills is what happens when you stomp - or slash - a good idea to death.
The sequel Machete Kills opens with a fake trailer for a not-yet-produced third installment, then spends the next 100-plus minutes making a case for plunging a knife into the franchise's heart.
Much as we want to relish the shameless parade of cartoon violence ... the soggy plotting and slack comic timing are downers.
Intestines tangle in helicopter rotors, heads pop in spring-loaded decapitations, and there's even a new fake trailer up top. Little is believable, and that's exactly as it should be.
Uses a dull blade to hack away at the same targets that the first film so deftly eviscerated, namely B-movies.