It’s been nearly a decade since Anchorman: The Legend of Ron Burgundy introduced Will Ferrell and director Adam McKay’s (then a newcomer) absurdist brand of humor to the masses, a brand of humor that earned the film the biggest cult following for a comedy since perhaps Caddyshack and lived on in McKay’s subsequent (mildly less successful) films Talladega Nights: The Ballad of Ricky Bobby, Step Brothers, and The Other Guys (all starring Ferrell). In Anchorman 2: The Legend Continues, McKay and his now-way-more-famous cast return with a bigger, broader, less memorable chapter in Burgundy’s story. The laughs still hit hard (I was bowled over quite frequently) and the wonderful cast is as sharp and witty as ever, but multiple, needlessly inflated, disposable plotlines drag the film down, and the novelty of McKay’s unfettered randomness has all but worn off in the last ten years.

It’s 1980, and happily married newscasters Ron Burgundy (Ferrell) and Veronica Corningstone (Christina Applegate, as beautiful and quick as ever) arrive at an impasse when Veronica beats Ron out for a coveted position at the news station and their boss (Harrison Ford) rips Ron’s job away (in Ford’s signature callous growl). Brimming with jealous rage, Ron leaves his wife and son (one of the worst child actors I’ve seen this year) and tracks down his old news crew to start a new career path at GNN, a news network in New York, where they help to pioneer a revolutionary concept called “24-hour news” (yuck yuck).

Returning are Steve Carrell as weatherman Brick Tamland, an extreme representation of McKay’s affinity for random dialog; Paul Rudd as reporter Brian Fantana, the embodiment of faux, cologne-collector machismo; and David Koechner as sportscaster Champ Kind, an ambiguously rape-y pervert with a hilariously uncomfortable affection for Ron (long, dick-to-dick hugs). Ron and his brigade are met with fierce hostility in New York, dished out by rival hot-shot anchor Jack Lime (James Marsden, surprisingly very funny) and their alpha-female station manager (Meagan Good). With everything stacked against him (including a miserable 2am time slot), Ron stands stubbornly determined to out-career Veronica, and finds his path to success in the form of the trashy, nothing-news we’re now oh-so familiar with in 2013 (in a stroke of “brilliance”, Ron reports on a car chase and sticks with the pursuit until the perp is caught, earning him sky-high ratings).

The satire is half-baked, laid on thick, and isn’t handled with nearly the deftness of the small, zingy, hyperbolic moments Anchorman is adored for. Narratively, the movie is a mess, with a tangle of plots and sub-plots that are so conventional and uninteresting that they bog down the film’s free-flowing, improv-is-king spirit. Veronica finds a new man (Greg Kinnear); Ron’s career focus has made him an absentee father; Brick’s found a love interest (Kristen Wiig, who merely mimics Carrell’s character, disappointingly); Ron’s success gets to his head and shuns his friends; etc. It all feels too conventional and schematic, and McKay spends an inordinate amount of time fleshing these story lines out, when all we really want to see are the gags. The crowded narrative feels restrictive, barring the talent from letting loose as much as they want to.

The good news is (yes, I said it!), the funnies are as tangential, out-of-left-field, and irreverent as the first film’s, if not more. You won’t find many über-repeatable one-liners here, but there are some scenes that absolutely kill. In perhaps the most interesting narrative thread in the film (really), Ron and his family befriend a shark named Doby and sing a 2-minute-long tribute musical number in his honor that had me rumbling so hard my throat was on fire (no one else in the theater found it as found it as funny, but hey…different strokes). McKay’s sense of timing is excellent; in one scene, Ron and his team begin laughing uproariously at a throwaway joke, and then McKay awkwardly cuts–right in the middle of their guffawing–to them standing in utter silence. Again, it’s an unquotable moment, but it’s funny as hell.

McKay takes the most bizarre, out-there scene from the first film–the incredible news anchor gang fight–and recycles it here (with the expected parade of super-celeb cameos). What’s fascinating is, now that we’re so familiarized with McKay’s comedic style, the scene feels safe, redundant, unsurprising, and dull, though it still has baseline entertainment value. I wouldn’t say Anchorman 2 is an unnecessary sequel–it’s still a lot of fun to watch these guys flex their comedic muscles–but it simply doesn’t measure up to the legendary (yes…I said it!) stature of its predecessor. Unfortunately, if this sequel is an indication of a downward trend in quality for the franchise, the forecast for Ron Burgundy’s future (okay, now I’m just being stupid) looks pretty cloudy (sorry).

LUV, by first-time director and co-writer Sheldon Candis, poses the question: Are today’s black, inner-city youths predestined to become corrupted by the murderous environment left to them by their felonious predecessors, or can they muster the strength to transcend the bleak future they’ve inherited and cleanse themselves of their fathers’ sins? LUV is a trite, hackneyed film with a relevant message that is saved from mediocrity by riveting performances delivered by a gifted cast.

An aggressive coming-of-age story set in the urban streets of Baltimore, LUV follows 11-year-old Woody (Michael Rainey Jr.) as he accompanies his alpha-male, ex-convict uncle, Vincent (Common), on an eventful quest to hustle enough money to finance the opening of a crab shack. This is Vincent’s key to a straighter life. The film consists of Vincent’s increasingly dangerous attempts to procure the much-needed money, all viewed through Woody’s virgin eyes. It’s a crash course in street life that unfortunately escalates into distracting implausibility. The later scenes in the film, especially the climax, follow the blueprint laid out by similar crime-drama works like The Wire so closely that every moment and beat feels clichéd and telegraphed. The script fails to innovate or color outside the lines, and the film ends up playing like a greatest-hits of urban crime-drama scenes. Also, the overly melodramatic plot rubs up against the gritty, grounded photography of Baltimore in an unsavory way. Though the collection of scenes that comprise the movie don’t add up to anything special, there are a handful of moments that pack real tension and an emotional punch.

The script is unbalanced, and its inconsistencies are jarring. Early in the film, Vincent asks Woody if he has finished his homework and then tells his nephew that he is talented when Woody shows him some sketches he’s drawn (of his uncle, adorably.) Moments later, he yells at Woody for not flirting with a girl, and forces his nephew to skip school. Later in the film, Woody finds himself in the harrowing situation of having to fire a handgun to save his uncles life. He chokes, immobilized with overwhelming fear. Later that night, 11-year-old Woody, held at gunpoint, successfully conducts a $25,000 drug deal with a gang of thugs. It’s nearly impossible to suspend disbelief in these scenes, as the absurdity of these situations is almost comical.

The overly-derivative script’s saving grace is the ultra-talented cast, who give remarkable performances across the board despite being cast as every black criminal archetype in the book. Common plays a street Casanova; he walks like he’s won before, head held high, eyes unblinking, embodying irresistible charm and street savvy. As the sins of his dubious pre-incarceration history begin to catch up to him with deadly force, his tough-guy façade begins to crack, and Common conveys Vincent’s deterioration with nuance and finesse. Though Vincent takes some jarring, questionable turns as a character, Common does his best with the role and his performance shines.

A first-time-actor, Rainey Jr. shows impressive range for a child actor, and carries an air of genuineness that few young actors are gifted with. Dennis Haysbert plays the kingpin antagonist with gravitas and calculation, and Danny Glover, who plays his equally untrustworthy brother, complements and enhances Haysbert’s performance with the adeptness of a true movie veteran. The brothers, unlike the rest of the inner-city cast, live in an extravagant suburban house in the woods, though it’s later revealed that they had climbed to the top at the expense of their younger protégé, Vincent. Though the climax of the film is trite in its writing and staging, Haysbert, Glover, and Common’s use their sharp acting skills make what is a paint-by-numbers scene on paper truly intense and powerful on screen.

The soundtrack is comprised of somber, dreamlike drones that attempt to underline the drama of the scenes they accompany, but unfortunately end up dampening them. To his credit, Candis does dispense of the cliché of obnoxiously blaring hip-hop music in every establishing shot to tell the audience “This is a black neighborhood, this is what black people listen to.” Candis has a hard time finding solid footing in his wobbly delivery of the narrative. He does, however, show a true knack for eliciting fine performances from his actors. LUV is a woefully contrived tale of delinquent father-figures and inescapable pasts, but it succeeds as a platform for its excellent cast to exhibit their masterful acting skills.