"Venom: Let There Be Carnage" is many things: a blockbuster comic-book sequel, a mismatched-buddy comedy, an opportunity for some gloriously self-aware overacting. But at its core, beneath the wacky quips and gnashing teeth and gobs of goo, it's something else entirely: a love story. Not between Tom Hardy's Eddie Brock and Michelle Williams as the one who got away, not even between Woody Harrelson's villainous Carnage and Naomie Harris' misunderstood mutant Shriek, but rather between Eddie and the hulking symbiote dwelling within him, Venom. It may sound insane to ponder notions like vulnerability and tenderness given that we're talking about a movie in which a preening alien lives inside an intrepid reporter, bickering and bantering with him in the growl of a diabolical Cookie Monster (also Hardy, having a ball). Hardy shares story-by credit with returning screenwriter Kelly Marcel-who, by the way, was wise enough to mine "Fifty Shades of Grey" for its inherent, absurd humor. While the bondage gear here may seem appropriate, "Venom" offers a very different kind of complicated, intimate relationship. Cletus' transformation into the red-hued Carnage-a larger, fiercer, and more weaponized version of Venom-is a frenzy of sound and fury. It's also the first sign that the action in this sequel isn't going to be nearly as compelling as the comedy. But what both of these scenes reveal is the softer, sweeter side of this symbiote, and the unexpected affect he's had on people beyond just Eddie. They hit harder than the grandiose moments in which the giant black and red blobs hurl themselves at each other in mid-air. But don't get too comfortable with the idea of a cuddly, cozy Venom. As the end credits remind us, there are always more movies in store.