TL;DR: The Accountant 2 is a goofy, turbo-charged, sometimes baffling action sequel that somehow makes Ben Affleck’s stone-faced autistic assassin even more endearing. It’s overstuffed, ridiculous, and surprisingly heartfelt in its depiction of difference. It’s also a movie where Jon Bernthal fights half the planet.

Part 1: You Can’t Account for Taste (But You Can Account for Gunfire)

I never thought The Accountant would get a sequel. Honestly, I barely believed The Accountant existed in the first place.

It’s one of those movies that felt like a fever dream—Ben Affleck, riding high on post-Argo Oscar clout and Batfleck brooding, playing Christian Wolff: an autistic mathematical genius who moonlights as… a brutally efficient hitman for hire. It’s a pitch that sounds like it should live and die inside a desperate 2009 CAA pitch deck. And yet, somehow, The Accountant happened. And even weirder? It worked — or at least, it worked enough to quietly become a VOD behemoth, the “most-rented” movie of 2017. Like an accounting ledger you forget to close, The Accountant kept ticking in the background of pop culture, accruing late fees of affection.

So here we are: nearly a decade later, and somehow, improbably, we have The Accountant 2. And just like its predecessor, it’s a deeply strange object — but one that is almost impossible to dislike if you surrender to its very specific divorced-dad energy. This isn’t so much a normal sequel as a giant, loving, slightly clueless pat on the back for anyone who thought, “Hey, I liked that weird Ben Affleck autistic assassin movie.” Congratulations, you’re getting more. Much more.

Part 2: A Beautiful Mind, But With More Broken Bones

Let’s start here: Christian Wolff is still Christian Wolff. He’s still awkward, still hyper-competent, still traveling America in a bulletproof Airstream trailer that’s probably worth more than most starter homes. He’s still doing back-alley accounting jobs for shady figures, still dodging social interactions like they’re grenades.

But where The Accountant treated his autism like a superpower in the way a first-draft screenwriter thinks is “respectful” (— read: “awkwardly patronizing”—), The Accountant 2 leans into Chris’s humanity a little more. The film has a broader grin, a slightly looser collar. It’s still dumb as a box of hammers when it comes to plot logic — more on that labyrinth in a second — but it allows Affleck’s Christian a few more genuine moments of self-awareness.

He’s lonely. He’s bad at small talk. He’s weirdly good at line dancing. He’s hacking dating apps to “solve” dating, like love is just another ledger to balance. (Reader, it’s not going great.)

It’s adorable. And, shockingly, Ben Affleck — with his baggy-eyed sincerity and man-mountain physicality — sells it. Chris feels like a real, broken, sweet guy under all the trigger-pulling and number-crunching. You want him to find peace. Maybe even love. You want him to finally figure out how the hell you’re supposed to make small talk over drinks without sounding like you’re filing a suspicious activity report.

Part 3: The Plot: Now With Even Less Accounting!

Not that The Accountant 2 cares too much about giving him a normal life.

Nope. Chris gets yanked back into the murder game almost immediately, thanks to a vaguely-drawn threat that involves — deep breath — a corrupt seafood shop, a Central American human trafficking cartel, a rogue assassin nicknamed Anaïs, a missing autistic teenager, and enough tangents to give your cognitive map a stroke.

Marybeth Medina (the always-game Cynthia Addai-Robinson) is back too, pulling Chris into the chaos. There are cameos from the first film. There are new tech geniuses, almost all autistic, forming what can only be described as “the X-Men of Accountancy.” (One expects Professor Xavier to wheel into the Harbor Neuroscience Center at any moment and start recruiting.)

And, oh yeah, Jon Bernthal returns as Braxton, Chris’s estranged brother/human wrecking ball, who this time gets to fully let his freak flag fly. If the first movie gave him a quiet, stoic energy, The Accountant 2 cranks him up to 11. Bernthal is electric, like a live wire sparking in a puddle. Every line is delivered like he’s halfway between laughing and punching you through drywall.

The plot is… indecipherable. I’m not going to lie to you. I saw this thing sober and caffeinated and still could not draw you a clear flowchart of who’s killing who and why. It doesn’t matter. As with so many contemporary action movies (Fast & Furious, I’m looking at you), the story is less important than the vibe. And the vibe here is a pleasantly dumb, bro-ish hugfest wrapped in heavy gunfire.

Part 4: Brothers, Bullets, and Bad Seafood

The real heart of The Accountant 2 isn’t the ludicrous plotting. It’s the brothers.

Watching Chris and Braxton awkwardly attempt to connect — two trauma-scarred men raised by an emotionally abusive father to be fighting machines — is weirdly moving. Affleck and Bernthal have real chemistry, that rare feeling of blood-deep history and frayed affection. They’re not just allies; they’re the last two people on Earth who understand each other. They’re still figuring out how to show it.

Some of the best moments are the quietest ones: two men sitting in a diner, wondering out loud if they’re happy. (Spoiler: they’re… not, but they’re trying.)

In between all the existential angst, there’s a lot of shooting. The Accountant 2 doesn’t skimp on the action, delivering slick, crunchy, over-the-top fight scenes that feel like Gavin O’Connor (returning as director) finally got to live out his Call of Duty fantasies.

Is it occasionally exhausting? Sure. Does it sometimes feel like they’re shooting their way out of narrative corners because writing actual resolutions would be too hard? Absolutely. Do I care? Not particularly. When Bernthal is head-butting his way through mercenaries and Affleck is quietly taking apart a dozen gunmen like a tax code, it’s hard not to grin.

Part 5: Neurodivergence as Superpower (Again)

Look: no action movie is going to be the gold standard of neurodivergent representation.

But The Accountant 2 tries, in its clumsy, big-hearted way. It casts multiple autistic actors as members of Chris’s “crew.” It presents autism not as a tragic burden or a freak show, but as another axis of identity — messy, powerful, sometimes isolating, sometimes wonderful.

Is it a little weird that everyone’s special interest happens to be cybercrime and marksmanship? Sure. Not every autistic kid is a baby Jason Bourne. But in a cinematic landscape where most neurodivergent characters are either props for the emotional growth of others or quirky sidekicks, it’s refreshing to see a film (even a silly one) where they get to be the heroes of their own story.

Part 6: The Final Tally

The Accountant 2 is a ridiculous movie. It’s a messy, chaotic, emotionally earnest slab of cinematic junk food. But… it’s good junk food. It’s the kind of movie that knows it’s absurd and decides to double down anyway, trusting that its audience will come along for the ride.

It’s not high art. It’s barely coherent. But it’s fun.

And sometimes — when the world feels like it’s spinning faster and meaner every day — that’s enough.

Final Verdict

The Accountant 2 won’t win any awards for subtlety or storytelling. But it delivers exactly what it promises: more Christian Wolff, more headshots, more brotherly bonding, and a surprisingly tender (if clumsy) celebration of neurodivergence. If you loved the first one, you’ll probably love this too. And if you’re new to the franchise? Buckle up. It’s a weird, wild ride — but a ride worth taking.