As before, Jigsaw points out to anyone who will listen that he doesn't actually kill anyone, he just sets up his victims and then offers them "choices." Their icky deaths are their own fault. Such reasoning was the premise of
Saw, a surprise hit that recycled hoary psycho killer conventions to extra-splattery effect ("There will be blood"). In SAW II, the repetition is only compounded: Jigsaw is suffering from terminal cancer, which he presumes grants him moral authority: "Those who do not appreciate life do not deserve life."
And as always, Jigsaw ("Call me John," he tells Eric) is chatty in the extreme, explaining his games far beyond the point of interest. He talks at Eric and by tape, he talks at the victims in the house (including Franky G, Glenn Plummer, and the first film's Shawnee Smith, returned for more abuse). None of the players in this game is particularly appealing. But even as the film's focus on sadistic pleasures raises questions about audiences' desire to "watch," it's all retread.