The original Trainspotting was an exercise in youthful vibrancy. A sequel set twenty years later loses some of that vibrancy by necessity. This is a Danny Boyle film so obviously it's stylish as fuck, and it is consistently funny (with the original film's sense of crude anarchic realism – it features maybe the most darkly funny suicide attempt ever filmed) but this is fundamentally a sad film, and in essence a two-hour epilogue to the first film. Modern middle-aged male melancholy. It's kind of heartbreaking.