Movie Review: "Kick Ass"

To discuss "Kick Ass" properly, I'm going to need to venture into heavy spoiler territory at times. Consider yourself warned.

When I was growing up, superheroes were worth looking up to.

Superman was the iconic boyscout, helping the downtrodden and protecting the vulnerable. Spiderman was the geek kid in all of us, suddenly blessed with amazing powers and able to overcome his insecurities. Batman pursued justice by going to where the police couldn't.

All the heroes had a code. Stand up for truth, justice and the American way. With great power comes great responsibility. Even the Dark Knight had a code of conduct, refusing to brandish a firearm or kill a villain.

In "Kick Ass," the titular hero gives lip service to Spidey's admirable mantra. He then dons a jet pack, graphically mows down dozens of bad guys with a Gatling gun and fires a bazooka straight into a mobster's belly. This is after an 11-year-old girl has shot, stabbed, sliced and diced dozens of thugs and had her face beaten to a bloody pulp by the aforementioned mobster. Don't even ask what her parents think about this...after all, her dad trained her to fight. He also doesn't seem that phased when she uses language that puts sailors to shame, including uttering the two verboten "c-words."

"Kick Ass," from director Matthew Vaughn ("Layer Cake," "Stardust") is like someone put "Superbad," "Kill Bill" and "Spiderman" in a blender. It's a rather frustrating film to write about. From a technical level, there are some wonderfully fun and visceral action sequences. The film's earliest scenes have a real sense of wit and personality, it's populated with actors doing some truly fine performances and the premise itself is loaded with potential. But the film, based on a comic book by Mark Millar ("Wanted") is so obsessed with being extreme and edgy that it sabotages itself, drawing us out of the film with its vulgarity and carnage just when we're starting to enjoy ourselves.

Like I said, the premise is a lot of fun. High school geek Dave Lizewski (Aaron Johnson) is tired of being ignored by girls, mugged by crooks and suffering through his dreary existence. Sitting at a comic book shop with his friends, Dave wonders why no one has ever dressed up in tights and stood up for the oppressed. So he orders a hideous green scuba suit over the Internet and heads out to stop evil-doers as Kick Ass. His first time out, he's stabbed in the stomach and hit by a car. But a trip to the hospital, some metal plating and nerve damage that renders him impervious to pain, and Dave hits the streets again. One of these run-ins finds Dave facing down three thugs. Filmed on a cell phone and posted on Youtube, Kick Ass becomes a cultural icon.

But while Dave is playing superhero, others are training to be the real thing. Particularly Damon Macready (Nicolas Cage) and his 11-year-old daughter Mindy (Chloe Grace Moretz). Out to avenge his wife's death, caused by a vicious mob boss (Mark Strong), Damon dons a Batman-like outfit, calls himself Big Daddy and gets deadly vengeance. As purple-haired Hit Girl, Mindy has moves that would make Tony Jaa feel like an invalid, is a crack-shot with a pistol and has wisecracks that would make John McClane take notes. When we meet them, they are having some bonding time, as Big Daddy prepares Hit Girl to take a bullet in the chest. It's okay; after two more rounds, he promises bowling and ice cream.

It's a twisted subplot, but it's played for dry, absurdist humor. Ebert noted in his review that Cage is probably the only person who can make shooting a child funny and he's right. Riffing on the whole kids-as-vigilantes subtext that has existed in comic books since Robin donned his mask and cape, Cage and Moretz's scenes hit a smarter level of satire than the rest of the movie operates on. Cage plays Big Daddy as a nerdy, Ned Flanders-meets-Dirty Harry father figure and Moretz has a wit and timing that are past her age.

The scenes with Dave and Kick Ass are fun, particularly as he draws closer to the girl of his dreams (Lyndsy Fonseca), but only because she thinks he's her gay best friend. Dave eventually crosses paths with Big Daddy and Hit Girl and learns that he's out of his league alongside real-life heroes. But he finds a hopeful ally in Red Mist (Christopher Mintz Plasse), the son of the villain who's out to discover Kick Ass's secret identity. While a few bumbling McLovin' moments still come through, Plasse delivers some of his strongest work here, giving his character a tragic dimension as he seeks to earn his father's approval. Avid comic book readers will know where his arc is going.

The film tweaks not only comic books but superhero movies in particular, with the outlandish and uncomfortable costumes, physically-impossible stunts and breakneck, energetic action pieces. There are moments where the humor and excitement come together brilliantly and, in those moments, the film has an energetic fun and charge to it that fully realize the premise's potential. When Hit Girl dispatches a room of thugs, set to "Sesame Street"-style music, it's a vervy, visceral moment that carries a giddy thrill.

But when the action stops, Vaughn can't seem to settle on a tone for the movie. On the one hand, he seems attracted to the premise of "real-life superheroes" and loves showing Dave being pummeled by thugs and bleeding when he's cut. But the next moment, the mob villains are cartoonish thugs and Kick Ass and Red Miss are mugging for the cameras as they cruise the town. The tonal shifts didn't really bother me until a brutal sequence later in the film, when the movie turns surprisingly dark and grim, at odds with the film's earlier fun, satirical tone.

And I know, tonal shifts are not bad things. After all, "Kill Bill" shifted from giddy exploitation fest to dark Western, and I regard that as one of my favorite movies. And "Kill Bill" is likely going to be one of the films that this is compared to, based on its blood-letting and devil-may-care swagger.

But the difference is that Quentin Tarantino never set "Kill Bill" in anything resembling the "real world." Everything took place in some weird place in the director's brain, a mixture of movie reels and genres that resulted in a stylish, energetic romp where nothing was to be taken extremely seriously. "Kick Ass" posits the idea of "super heroes in the real world" and then becomes just as over-the-top as the movies it lovingly parodies.

And like I said, despite the tonal shifts, the film is well-filmed and acted. It can't be described as "style over substance," because there is a deeper mindset at work here.

Unfortunately, that substance is all-too-often revealed to be vile, as "Kick Ass" peppers its action with vulgarity and gratuitous gore. It has attitude to spare, that's for sure, but it's attitude and desire to be edgy end up sabotaging the film.

"Kick Ass" owes a lot visually and thematically to Sam Raimi's first "Spiderman" film. The color palette, the narration and the humor are all reminiscent of that movie. And as Dave considers being a superhero, we get the same sense of naivety and innocence that Peter Parker had. And then we get riffs on masturbation and constant use of the f-word. Hit Girl shows up and spouts the two aforementioned "c-words." It's as if Kevin Smith finally got his wish to write a superhero movie.

And yes, I'm mentioning that the obscenity offended me. I'm usually not offended by language in a film--heck, "Goodfellas" is one of my favorite movies. But I've always maintained that obscenity should be used if it showcases the reality or is true to the characters. Here, it's a stunt. It's the filmmakers, so intent on being "ironic," that they say "hey, remember how awesome Spiderman was? What if he said the f-word? Or masturbated to thoughts of his teacher?". When Hit Girl uses the vilest of the c-words, it's not because it underscores anything or adds anything to the character or world that Vaughn has created. Rather, it's just that the filmmakers think it's going to be edgy and talked about to have an 11-year-old girl say a word that most adults cringe at.

And yes, I've heard the criticism that people are spending too much time worried about the language and aren't as worried about the violence Hit Girl commits. But I understand the joke here--nothing she's doing is physically possible; Vaughn is having fun with the idea of a young girl outplaying violent thugs at their own game. Like the House of Blue Leaves fight in "Kill Bill" the carnage isn't too disturbing because it's so stylized that we realize much of it is not to be taken seriously. However, Vaughn never seems to know when the line has been crossed and often tiptoes too far over. It's all in good fun to see Hit Girl go hand-to-hand with the mob boss as an equal; it stops being entertaining when he starts pummeling her in the face.

And yet, the graphic nature of the violence also bothered me. In my mind, the appeal of being a superhero is to do impossible feats, save lives and be...well...heroic. Being a murderer never crosses my mind. There's always a chuckle when Spider-man ties up the bad guys in a web; there's something honorable about Batman keeping the Joker from falling to his death, allowing him to stay in a cell rather than lowering himself to his level.

In "Kick Ass," the heroes are not too bad with their fists. But when the third act pulls out the guns and knives, it becomes a bit less joyful and fun. I don't think gore is necessarily a detriment to action but here it's gratuitous and present for shock value. I'm sure some would argue that Vaughn is showing that "when you get hit in real life, you bleed"...but watch the carnage unfold and tell me if you really are seeing reality here.

Of course, when I was a kid my friends and I would pretend to be ninjas. And we'd pretend to slice and dice our foes. "Kick Ass" has that same juvenile quality to it. Rather than appeal to adults who can understand the joy in the initial idea and sort through the satire, it tosses in vulgarity and over-the-top violence to satiate teenage boys who think killing is fun and blowing people away is sweet. And don't try and tell me that the film is R-rated and those kids won't see it; this film's marketing--which portrays it as a fun, light comedy--has been squarely targeted at teens and even kids. Only its title gives the slightest hint that only older folk are prepared for what's in store.

And maybe I'm in the minority. After all, there was a very vocal group in the theater with me that broke into spontaneous applause on four separate occasions. Maybe I'm just old, or maybe I'm becoming more of a prude than I was in my early twenties.

Those things are all possible, but I think there's another reason. I recognized the glimmer of a story that could be told with fun, wit and energy. And on several occasions, "Kick Ass" achieves that promise. But then it succumbs to a desire to please the lowest common denominator, get cheap laughs from the "Superbad" crowd and toss gratuitous gore in to keep its "edge." The seeds are there for a great story; I'm sad to see it settle for this.

But hey, I'll keep my hopes up. After all, established heroes like Iron Man are still on the horizon for this summer. I look forward to them proving that heroes don't need to curse or kill to capture our attention. Till then, I'll remain a prude...I feel less guilty that way.

Movie Review: "Date Night"

"Date Night" is proof that smart casting can make the difference between an enjoyable evening at the movies and a wasted $20.

It's not like the premise is that novel. The suburbanites'-crazy-night-in-the-big-bad-city comedy may not be a staple, but it's definitely familiar to anyone who's seen "Adventures in Babysitting," "After Hours," "Blind Date," or "The Out of Towners." And director Shawn Levy doesn't do too much to inspire confidence, either. I may have defended the first "Night at the Museum," but the man is also responsible for the Steve Martin "Pink Panther" debacle.

It would have been so easy--and may have been tempting--to take this exact same script, with the exact same director, and plug in Matthew McCounaghey and Kate Winslet or Vince Vaugh and Reese Witherspoon and wind up with a trite, vapid and lifeless comedy. But by putting two very smart, very funny actors at the helm and then peppering supporting roles with equally talented castmates, "Date Night" actually overcomes a mediocre script to become a consistently funny and enjoyable night out.

Steve Carrell and Tina Fey star as Phil and Claire Foster, a New Jersey couple trying to balance careers and parenting. The kids wake them up at the crack of dawn, starting a cycle of chores, routines and obligations. By the time the couple gets some quiet time to themselves, Phil's snore strip is already applied and Claire's retainer is in place, not that they have the energy to do anything. They're not an unhappy couple, just busy. Their one weekly reprieve is a book club, where they look at their divorcing friends (Mark Ruffalo and Kirsten Wiig) and wonder if it's ever possible that they could find themselves drifting apart and being just "really excellent roommates."

To keep the spark alive, Phil impulsively decides that on their upcoming date night they should skip their standard local steak-and-potatoes establishment and head out to a fancy Manhattan restaurant. They arrive to find the place booked and, when Phil hears a reservation going unclaimed, they pretend to be the missing couple. After a few glasses of wine, they're surprised to find themselves threatened in the alley by two thugs looking for the real couple, who are in possession of a flash drive (or, as Claire identifies it, "a computer sticky thing") being used to blackmail a gangster (Ray Liotta). If you're following me thus far, you've probably guessed that the Fosters spend their date night trying to evade the mob and find the missing flash drive. You probably don't even have to ask that whether or not their marriage will be strengthened as a result of this insanity.

It's always tricky when two talented and highly successful comedians team up. One usually ends up out-shining the other and the fight for laughs often derails any potential chemistry. So it's refreshing to see that Carrell and Fey have a fun rapport together, matching each other's wit without ever hogging the spotlight. Fey can find the humor in the most typical life moments--I particularly liked it when Claire frantically searches a computer for information, only to get stalled by the "rainbow wheel." Carrell plays Phil not as a buffoon, but as a smart, capable accountant terrified by facing things he only sees in movies ("He pointed the gun sideways! It's a kill shot!" he cries at one point) or emasculated by the ever-shirtless contact his wife goes to for help (Mark Wahlberg, whose few scenes are priceless).

As I pointed out before, this could have easily been another trite romantic comedy featuring good-looking movie stars giving reaction shots and otherwise sleepwalking through the plot. Carrell and Fey, however, are two very smart and funny individuals who excel and milking the humor out of ordinary life. I rarely felt that they were on autopilot; you can almost see their gears turning as they look for comic opportunities in every situation. Even a throwaway line like Claire's exclamation of "look, it's Will.i.am, from...Fergie" gets a big laugh because it's the perfect way a suburban mother would probably remember it. The two even get a few quiet moments together to discuss their marital stresses and manage to elicit some real tenderness and chemistry without grounding the movie to a halt. It's almost enough to make you wish the gunplay and car chases would disappear and we'd see the two in a smart, low-key comedy.

Thankfully, the leads aren't the only areas in which "Date Night's" casting director was thinking smart. Several supporting roles are also given to very funny, able comedians, which keeps the pace fast and funny. I've already mentioned Wahlberg as the always-shirtless stud Claire drools over, but James Franco and Mila Kunis actually steal the spotlight from Carrell and Fey as the couple Phil and Claire are mistaken for. They portray kind of a scuzzy, white-trash version of the Fosters, and watching Carrell and Franco bicker back and forth is good fun, and it made me remember just how great Franco is in comedic roles; I'm surprised he hasn't been cast in more since "Pineapple Express." Liotta and William Fichtner also make the most of their small roles. I was even happy to see J.B. Smoove--the best thing about the last two seasons of "Curb Your Enthusiasm"--show up as a terrified cabbie whose car ends up welded to the Fosters'.

The few action sequences are clearly filler and, honestly, drag the film a bit...it's funnier when Fey and Carrell are allowed to banter. I don't know if it's a compliment to say that Levy does his best when he simply stands back and lets the stars do what they need to, but that's what seems to work here. The film doesn't really break new ground or try to reach "Hangover"-levels of hilarity.

But that's actually kind of refreshing, particularly three weeks after "Hot Tub Time Machine" continued to try and out-raunch other movies. "Date Night" plays to the mainstream and its kind of nice to see a film getting some smart laughs instead of cheap guffaws. Is it a great movie? No, and I'd argue that both Carrell and Fey have been involved with better material (the best of "30 Rock" and "The Office" are often funnier than most movie comedies).

But sometimes you don't need greatness. Sometimes you just want to sit in the theater and have an enjoyable time that doesn't require your buttons being pushed or your sensibilities being offended. If the mark of a successful comedy is that it actually makes you laugh and recommend it to your friends, "Date Night" succeeds. Fey and Carrell will both go on to do much better work, but for now, you can enjoy this night with them without feeling guilty walking home.

To keep

The Gods Must Be Cranky

Clash of the Titans

Moviegoers who skipped Greek mythology in school can get something of a crash course at their local theater this year.

Just last month, kids were treated to an adventure of modern day demigods with "Percy Jackson and the Lightning Thief." This week, slightly older audiences will flock to see the loud, special-effects-driven "Clash of the Titans." Even though both films take crucial liberties with the myths, they probably provide a reasonable excuse to avoid reading the texts on which they're based.

Of course, as wise adults know, the books are always better than the movies.

"Clash of the Titans" is no exception. A remake of the 1981 fantasy featuring Harry Hamlin, Laurence Olivier and a robot owl, director Louis Leterrier mixes and matches the most familiar Greek legends, throws in a dash of "300" and "Transformers"-esque action sequences, and combines them with a whole host of daddy issues to make a curiously mundane action flick. Subtracting the robot owl, save for a sight gag that lands with a thud, doesn't help.

It seems that in Ancient Greece, men have begun to rebel against the gods, toppling their statues and refusing to pray - in a prologue, we're reminded that it is the prayers of men that fuel the gods' immortality. Hades (Ralph Fiennes), god of the Underworld, convinces his brother Zeus (Liam Neeson) to unleash his wrath and tell the men and women of Argos that unless the young Andromeda (Alexa Davalos) is sacrificed, he will set the beastly Kraken upon them. Zeus, quite vexed that his creation isn't responding positively to his vengeful wrath, agrees.

The only hope to stop the gods is Perseus (Sam Worthington), the half-son of Zeus. Perseus was fished out of the ocean as a child and watched his parents and sister be killed by Hades. Rejecting his position as a son of the gods, Perseus agrees to confront the Kraken, taking a motley crew of Argonauts across the countryside, where they encounter witches, scorpions, Medusa and the Kraken itself.Typing that description up, I realize there's an idea for a fun movie in there. Greek mythology is something that has not been successfully done in Hollywood, and I'd love to see a film that takes the myths and has some fun with them. Unfortunately, "Clash of the Titans" is content only to tell the standard reluctant hero story and, despite its special effects and energetic action sequences, never really feels epic or spectacular.

Leterrier, who injected life and energy into "The Incredible Hulk" after Ang Lee's turgid take on the comic book, knows how to stage an action sequence. A protracted battle with giant scorpions has a few great beats and the final battle with the Kraken is suitably well-staged. The problem is that everything feels like it's been done better before. The scorpions might be cool, but my mind kept going back to the insanity of "Starship Troopers'" giant bugs. A sequence in a volcanic temple is fun to look at, but its staging is derivative of a much better, similar sequence in "Lord of the Rings." Medusa is a largely CGI creation, a snake without any of the sensuality or horror that make her such a memorable part of Greek mythology - it's harder still to enjoy when remembering how much fun Uma Thurman had with the same role just weeks earlier in "Percy Jackson." Even the Kraken fight, while fun to watch, will leave some viewers remembering when Johnny Depp and Kiera Knightley fought the same beast in one of the "Pirates of the Caribbean" films.

I understand that many of our big screen epics owe a debt to Greek mythology and that these creations have been around for years. But for a movie about gods and goddesses and epic battles, "Clash" feels a bit standard and tedious. The action sequences are fun, to a degree, but there is no image or scene that makes our jaws drop, or moment where it feels our heroes are in real danger. There's no sense of wonder or awe; instead, it feels like Leterrier is content to remake "300," but with giant bugs and bloodless battles. When Optimus Prime is a more awe-inspiring creation than Medusa or the Kraken, you know the material just isn't working.

Much of that comes from the few non-action interludes, which never seem to capture consistent tones. Neeson and Fiennes chew the scenery up in Mount Olympus, but the characters are so poorly conceived that it's all for naught. Hades is a sniveling conspirator, and Zeus alternates between petty anger and unexplained compassion. The two do what they can with the roles, but there's not much to them, other than to sit in the throne room, debate and pontificate. And with today's special effects, no one wants to see a god pontificate.The human characters are a hodge-podge of faceless, underwritten mercenaries. There's some minor comic relief among the Argonauts, but none of them really have a character to play. Davalos mainly has to stand around looking pretty and endangered as Andromeda. Gemma Arterton ("Quantum of Solace") does what she can with the role of Io, Perseus' protector and - in this version - love interest. However, the role is so under-cooked that she is basically reduced to randomly appearing to provide exposition at crucial moments ... then again, maybe she's just the Greek chorus.

As for Worthington, I've yet to be convinced he can carry a film. I don't blame him for the fault of "Terminator: Salvation," but neither do I commend him for the success of "Avatar." Here, he plays the largely the same gruff, reluctant warrior as in the other films, alternating between looks of annoyance and befuddlement. He has a certain quality about him that hints at a true action star waiting to come out, but he's not given that moment here. Instead, we're treated to repetitive scenes where Perseus states over and again that "I'm going to do this as a god, not a man" or "I'm going to kill the gods," never thinking that, as a god, he probably has a better shot at killing Hades. He denies his demigod-ness so many times that I wanted Ernie Hudson from "Ghostbusters" to jump in the scene and remind him, "If someone asks you if you're a god, you say yes."

The result is a film that looks good and has some solid action sequences, but never achieves the scale it's aiming for. Leterrier can't convince his actors whether they should be over the top and chewing the scenery or play it as brooding, vengeful heroes. The film is not necessarily a mess, but just another mediocre, forgettable action film. Which is a shame, given the acting talents and the materials they had to work with.

One final note: "Clash of the Titans" is being heavily marketed as a 3D movie following "Avatar's" massive success. Don't believe the hype. The film was shot in 2D and given a 3D changeover in the last few weeks. The result is an awkward use of the technology, proving that without proper composition and editing that anticipates the process, it can look cheap, like watching a film through a View-Master. Leterrier intended for the film to be seen in 2D, and composed and edited the movie that way; the conversion makes 3D more of a distraction than with films like "Avatar," which were shot and composed with the technology in mind. If you have a choice, I'd probably suggest going to see "How to Train Your Dragon" instead of "Clash of the Titans." But if you must see "Clash," I recommend saving the money and going for the standard format. It might seem a mediocre way to see the film, but then again, consider the film.

Originally published in the April 4 edition of The Source, www.advisorsource.com

Catch ups: "Alice in Wonderland" and "How to Train Your Dragon"

A few movies I've seen in the past month that I never wrote up...

Alice in Wonderland (2010, dir. Tim Burton)

Can a judge please file a restraining order between Tim Burton and Johnny Depp? The collaboration, which was once so fruitful with "Edward Scissorhands" and "Ed Wood," has grown old, with both artists--who used to be widely known for their unpredictability and edginess--becoming predictable and, in the worst cases ("Charlie and the Chocolate Factory") annoying. I'll grant that "Sweeney Todd" was a brief return to the dark, twisted brilliance both have conjured before, but with "Alice in Wonderland," they go tumbling back down the rabbit hole of trite banality.

I'll admit that there was a part of me that thought the collaboration might work when it was first announced. After all, "Alice in Wonderland" is not a typical frothy kids' tale. Although I've never read the original books, I've seen enough of the filmed projects to know that the best versions of this story are a bit unhinged, gloriously anarchic and have a knack for scaring kids. If there's anything Burton's known for, it's being unhinged and creepy. "Alice in Wonderland" is the fairy tale he was, conceivably, born to tell. And although I'm getting very tired of "quirky Johnny Depp" and would like to see him go back to portraying realistic characters (see his work in "Donnie Brasco" or last summer's "Public Enemies"), the idea of him as the Mad Hatter had a certain appeal.

And the idea is interesting. Instead of a straight retelling of "Alice," this follows the heroine (Mia Wasikowska) as a young adult, faced with a marriage proposal that she finds a bit too stifling and terrifying. Terrified of giving into convention, Alice runs off after a rabbit, falls down a hole and...well, the rest follows largely as the original story did. She meets the creepy Cheshire cat, a hookah-smoking caterpillar and joins the Mad Hatter for a very similar tea party. The twist is that Alice doesn't remember ever being in Wonderland before, which is a problem for the world's inhabitants, who are depending on her to fulfill a prophecy that will set them free. Alice, it seems, must slay the Jabberwoky on the Frabjous Day, thus freeing Wonderland of the tyranny of the Queen of Hearts (Helena Bonham Carter) and returning it to her sister, the White Queen (Helena Bonham Carter).

And it's there that the film makes a fatal flaw. As I've said, I haven't read the original books, but I've read up enough to know that the success of "Alice in Wonderland" is do to its illogical nature and words, such as "frabjous," that have absolutely no meaning. It's that illogical silliness that makes the story so crazy, so beloved and has allowed artists to use the story as satire for whatever they see fit. Trying to tie it all up with a structure robs the story of its insanity and joy. And plus, to me, it feels lazy. The prophecy of "The One" who comes to save a world from destruction is, of course, timeless. When it works, it's because the world and the characters have been well developed and the rules established--that's why we love "The Matrix," "The Lion, the Witch and the Wardrobe" and "Harry Potter." When you take a character who is as one-dimensional as Alice--and needfully so, because she's basically the conduit through which we view Wonderland--and then try to establish rules on a world that is, by definition, illogical, it tends to land with a thud. Especially when, in a Tim Burton movie, the joy comes from what twisted and bizarre sights we might experience...with Wonderland, he's given a playground to indulge his most outlandish fantasies. Forcing it to be structured and linear is like confining it to a sandbox.

Depp, as the Mad Hatter, was positioned as the film's selling point but, to be honest, he's the weak link here. His character alternates between quirky and, well, mad, to solemn and pensive about the fate of Wonderland; he also slips in and out of a Scottish accent. When Depp swished onto shore as the Jack Sparrow, it worked because it was the last thing we ever expected to see in a pirate movie. Its success has really meant that Depp is expected to be outlandish whenever he's on screen and here he's quirky for quirky sake, without it ever becoming funny or having any sort of impact. I'm not going to lay the blame all at his feet, however. I think Disney signed Tim Burton and said--"oh, you need Johnny Depp as the Mad Hatter!" and a minor role got padded into something larger for the sake of a marque name. Depp isn't horrible, just unnecessary, and I do find myself longing for the days when he was an actor, not a movie star.

That's not to say that there aren't pleasures. Burton's film may be standard, but it's never less than beautiful to look at. His Wonderland is a fascinating CGI creation that I wish Burton had explored more of and while some have complained about the 3D, I thought it was effective--not "Avatar"-quality, but certainly not the pop-up-book look of "Clash of the Titans. Wasikowska takes an underwritten role and does solid work as the wide-eyed heroine and I liked a lot of the supporting characters that popped up randomly. I'm normally no fan of Helena Bonham Carter, but she's clearly having a ball playing the Red Queen in all her manic "OFF WITH HER HEAD" glory, and the film picks up whenever she's on screen. Hathaway chooses to play the White Queen with an odd touch of ditziness that made me laugh. And while I'm not sure exactly what Crispin Glover was doing as the height-fetish addled Knave of Hearts, the fact that Glover was in a Tim Burton film just feels right (although his work was much more memorable in the following week's "Hot Tub Time Machine.")

"Alice in Wonderland" isn't a horrible film by any means, and I can understand why families have made it a monster hit--kids will love the dragons and, let's face it, what adult doesn't secretly want to introduce their kids to Tim Burton's film..."Alice" could be a gateway film to"Beetlejuice" and "Edward Scissorhands." But for me, it never connected and drew me in. I found myself watching a bunch of pretty images, distracted by a few characters and then checking out as the story became more predictable. Burton's upcoming choices--a remake of his own "Frankenweenie" and an adaptation with Depp of the TV show "Dark Shadows"--feel more like the safe, family-friendly fare he's currently churning out. It's a shame...I can't wait til he is allowed to get a bit crazy again, following his own deranged rabbit-hole.






How to Train Your Dragon (2010, dir. Dean Deblois and Chris Sanders)

Ironically, just as I thought "Tim Burton's Alice in Wonderland" could be a good idea at first, the idea of Dreamwork's "How to Train Your Dragon" provoked disinterest from me when I first heard of it.

Dreamworks Animation is one of the most frustrating studios out there. When they're good, they're the "Looney Tunes" to Pixar's Disney-esque films. The first two "Shrek" films are witty, gloriously irreverent fun and I've gotten a chuckle out of "Bee Movie" and "Monseters vs. Aliens." Every once in a long while they even manage to get close to Pixar-inspired joy, such as with "Kung Fu Panda," which merged their mega-star-driven comedies with a fun, heartfelt story that celebrated a genre instead of spoofing it.

But "How to Train Your Dragon," upon first look, had all the markings of a "Shark Tale" or "Madagascar." It has a hip, Judd Apatow-friendly cast, a quirky premise--a young Viking befriends a dragon--and trailers scored, of course, to hip, current pop songs. I was prepared for this to be another disposable, pop culture-riffing lazy comedy that placated kids with noise while going for cheap adult laughs via double entendres.

Instead, "How to Train Your Dragon" may be the closest Dreamworks has come to Pixar-level quality.

Hiccup (Jay Baruchel, "Knocked Up") is a young Viking whose father Stoick (Gerard Butler) is the most fearsome dragon-killer in their clan. Hiccup, who mentors with a blacksmith (Craig Ferguson), dreams of killing the dragons who plague their village, but he's a bit too scrawny and weak. His father, however, finally gives him permission to take dragon-slaying classes and, it's about that time that Hiccup finally downs a Night Slayer, the most fearsome of the dragons, and learns that the creatures are actually friendly and misunderstood.

It's a simple story, really just a riff on the boy-and-his-dog genre. But DeBlois and Sanders, who delivered the best of the recent Disney 2D films with "Lilo and Stitch," tell it with a heart and humor that doesn't resort to pop-culture commentary, silly spoofs or hipper catchphrases. The best thing they do here is acknowledge the simplicity of the story and then let it unfold without peppering in too much noise and unnecessary distractions.

I've like Baruchel since seeing him in "Undeclared" (the sadly-ignored follow up series to "Freaks and Geeks), but he's always been relegated to third-rank supporting characters. For whatever reason, he seems to be getting the star treatment this year, headlining the recent comedy "She's Out of My League" and co-starring alongside Nicolas Cage this summer in "The Sorcerer's Apprentice." He's about as perfect as the weakling, nerdy Viking as Jack Black was for, well, a panda obsessed with Kung Fu. His nasally, Urkelish voice fits perfectly with a Viking who'd rather invent things than kill dragons and Baruchel plays his character fairly straight, without any of the mugging a larger star might have been.

There's a cast of all-star voices, including Butler, Ferguson, Jonah Hill, Kristen Wiig, Christopher Mintz-Plasse and America Ferrara (I guarantee this is the only time she'll play a blonde-haired Norwegian). But unlike a film like "Monsters Vs. Aliens" or "Bee Movie," the film doesn't play to the stars. There's no McLovin' riff on Mintz-Plasse's character and each actor simply voices their character without any mugging or spotlight stealing, creating actual characters instead of cartoon movie stars. The exception is Butler, who's voice is basically a retread of his "300" role, but it fits the context instead of being a joke.

As I write this, I realize I'm probably making the film sound fairly typical, and it is. But in toning down the usual manic comedy Dreamworks is known for and actually telling a straightforward story without winking at the audience, "How to Train Your Dragon" actually succeeds because it's typical. What kid wouldn't want a dragon? Who hasn't had to question everything they've been taught? And it's refreshing to see a kids movie that says that sometimes you have to think for yourself, question what you've been taught and stand up for what's right when you've been led astray. The absence of fart jokes is also refreshing.

And I haven't mentioned the sheer beauty of this movie. It's nothing new to say that computer-generated imagery continues to get better and better. The design of the dragons is fun and colorful and the Viking village has a great, fantasy quality about it. The film was designed with 3D in mind and if you have the chance to see it that way, take it. It's a reminder that when the technology is thought of from the start, it can be a great tool. Like "Avatar," it adds a depth to the film and draws the audience deeper into the story. The flying scenes are spectacularly done, even better than what James Cameron was able to accomplish in "Avatar." The final battle--who didn't expect one?--is exciting and energetic in all the ways that "Clash of the Titans" was mediocre and predictable.

I really would like to see more of this work from Dreamworks. Alas, their next big animated feature is "Shrek Forever After," in...you guessed it...3D. But it's nice to remember that when they want to, Dreamworks can tell a fun, heartfelt and enjoyable little story like this.

Movie Review: "Hot Tub Time Machine"

Originally published in the March 28 edition of The Source

The thing about a movie called "Hot Tub Time Machine" is that it's pretty critic-proof.

There are doubtlessly many who will, upon hearing that title, roll their eyes and remark that it "sounds stupid" and never set foot in a theater playing the new John Cusack comedy. For others, the title will immediately invoke images of wacky time-travel shenanigans, raunchy jokes and moments of hilarious stupidity, which will cause them to immediately call up their buddies and fork over $10 on a Friday night.

I have a feeling both camps will be satisfied with their choices.

The people in the former group will still find their lives worth living even if they miss out on the sight of four grown men sucked back to the 1980s through a wormhole in their Jacuzzi. The latter will laugh hard, see it again several times, and work the film's quotes into their vocabulary alongside bon mots from "Tommy Boy" and "Animal House."And all the critic can do is sit helplessly and ask readers "What do you expect from a movie called 'Hot Tub Time Machine?'"

To be fair, the movie delivers on every one of its promises. There is a hot tub, discovered by four men on a retreat to a ski village they loved in their 20s, but which has since become run down, inhabited by bums and cats. The hot tub does indeed transport them back to 1986, where they are reverted back to their old bodies - except for the kid who wasn't born in 1986 and flickers helplessly while watching his mom drink her way toward his conception - and find themselves able to relive their heydays.

Each of the men is, of course, struggling in some way from never fully letting go of the 1980s. Adam (Cusack) has grown into a self-obsessed yuppie who lives with his young, nerdy nephew Jacob (Clark Duke) and whose girlfriend has just left him. Former aspiring rock star Nick (Craig Robinson) has put up the guitar to perform digestive operations (by hand) on dogs and commits to a marriage even though he's found out that his wife cheated on him. And Lou (Rob Cordry) stills drives fast, drinks hard and lives the party animal '80s life, until some drunken driving and air-guitar playing in his garage lead to a night in the hospital. Interpreting this as a suicide attempt, Adam and Nick take Lou back to their old stomping grounds, along with Jacob.

The group is whisked back in time and informed by a mystical/clueless hot tub repairman (Chevy Chase) that they need to live life exactly the same way to avoid altering the future. That means Nick has to sleep with a groupie, even though he's committed to his wife; Adam has to break up with his hot girlfriend, which he knows will lead to a fork in the eye; and Lou must endure a pummeling at the fists of a ski patrol officer.Of course, when old men relive their past - especially when Russian-enhanced power drinks are involved - they may decide to alter a few things, which is where some of the film's biggest laughs come in.

At its heart, "Hot Tub Time Machine" is just another riff on the raunchy frat boy comedy that gained momentum last summer with "The Hangover." But like that summer smash, "Hot Tub Time Machine's" biggest laughs come from its twists on the formula - in this case, making the frat boys 40-year-old men who have had to suffer the consequences of their actions and adding a dose of clever geekery in the form of Jacob, the film's voice of reason. Jacob can be forgiven for being a bit antsy, however. He just learned that his mom - who will give birth to him in, oh, about nine months - is a promiscuous party animal and that if things don't unfold as they should, he may never be born.

Director Steve Pink lets this all unfold with an energetic lunacy, as the characters first pay lip service to the rules before the film allows them to disregard them altogether. To say much about what unfolds would ruin many of the film's biggest laughs, particularly involving Crispin Glover as a bellhop awaiting an unfortunate fate. The film's dialogue is cleverer than I expected and there's sheer glee in the way the characters are allowed to totally trash any of the time-travel guidelines that films normally abide by.

Cusack initially seems out of place in such a raucous comedy, but there's something fitting about watching him return to the era that made him a star. He's basically the straight man, however, allowing the others to wreak havoc throughout the '80s. Robinson, most popular for his work on "The Office," is solid as usual and Duke has a nerdy charm that makes him appealing. But it's "Daily Show" alum Cordry who really gets his chance to shine as loud, obnoxious Lou. Cordry seems to be relishing his opportunity to be the film's wild man and, while he lacks the charm that lets Vince Vaughn or Bradley Cooper get away with it, he still manages to wring a few laughs out of his brazen performance, although it gets tedious in the closing stretches.

The film manages to be more clever than its title implies, but it's not always a success. A subplot between Adam and a journalist in town to cover the Poison concert is a bit weak and drags down a comedy that runs on pure energy. Chase's role is more amusing than funny and Duke's character is funny but never given much to do. The film's ending is a bit too extended - a riff on "Back to the Future's" ending that just goes on for a bit too long.

Obviously a movie called "Hot Tub Time Machine" is bound to have some sex-related humor, but the film's raunchy moments actually serve to detract from the humor. For a film that can be so clever at times, Pink's tendency to keep building up shock humor and gratuitous nudity stifles some of the film's wit. I'll admit to chuckling, but the shocks are really cheap laughs that weren't needed in a movie that has some genuinely funny and well-crafted moments. Then again, the film's title probably brings to mind a certain amount of debauchery, so I guess I'd be in the minority on this.

But here I am, having written more than 1,000 words about a movie called "Hot Tub Time Machine" - more than any human being would find necessary. So I'll just leave it with this: The movie is called "Hot Tub Time Machine." You know whether or not you're going to see it just based on the title. And it is my duty as a critic to inform you that whatever you decide, you'll be happy with your decision.

Movie Review: "Cop Out"

I should have been the target audience for "Cop Out." I'm a sucker for buddy cop comedies, particularly the "Lethal Weapon" franchise. I think Tracy Morgan's work on "30 Rock" each week is consistently the most outlandish and hilarious comedic work on television. Bruce Willis has been one of my favorite action stars since uttering "Yippe-Kai-Yay" in 1988. And Kevin Smith, "Cop Out's" director, has built a career around fresh, funny movies. Two years back, I drove four hours to Akron, Ohio by myself to see Smith give one of his Q/A's.

So it pains me to report that "Cop Out" is possibly the most epic failure in the careers of all involved. Hardest hit, however, is Smith who, in his first outing directing someone else's screenplay, is left floundering without the wit and emotional honesty that often balances out the crassness and immaturity of his other works. Without Smith's original voice or convictions, "Cop Out" comes across as immature, vulgar and pointless. To make matters worse, it's brutally unfunny and boring. It's easily the worst thing Smith has been associated with--and yes, I have seen "Jersey Girl."

Willis and Morgan play Jimmy and Paul, two long-partnered NYPD detective recently suspended for blowing a drug bust. Jimmy's daughter is engaged to be married and her arrogant stepfather (Jason Lee) wants to rub Jimmy's economic troubles in his face by offering to pay for the wedding. Jimmy, hoping to keep his dignity, refuses the help and decides to sell a mint condition baseball card, which is promptly stolen. Jimmy and Paul try to track down the thief and somehow get involved with Mexican drug dealers and a kidnapped woman and end up on the wrong side of two fellow cops (Kevin Pollack and Adam Brody).

Smith films all of this in homage to the great buddy cop comedies, from "48 Hours" to "Lethal Weapon," complete with scenes of the detectives arguing like an old married couple and the inevitable scene where one partner saves the other's life at just the right time. With a Harold Faltmeyer score and the requisite ribbing from fellow officers, every beat is right from the 80s cop movie playbook. But while Smith knows the lyrics to the song, he can never make it dance.

The great buddy cop comedies worked because the two leads had great chemistry with each other. The classic example, of course, is Mel Gibson and Danny Glover in the "Lethal Weapon" franchise. Go back and watch that series. Even as the film's grew a bit more predictable and sillier, you could always count on the Gibson-Glover chemistry to provide great humor and an emotional undercurrent to the series. The two actors bantered naturally, bounced jokes off each other and came off like they really were old friends.

Negative chemistry can work as well, as Bruce Willis showed in "The Last Boyscout," one of the great cop guilty pleasures. There was never the sense that Willis or costar Damon Wayans really liked each other, but they used that tension to milk humor and grit out of each scene. Even Jackie Chan and Chris Tucker were able to find a comfortable working rhythm to carry the laughs of the "Rush Hour" series.

There's a very palpable sense that Willis and Morgan hated working together here. The actors don't have a rapport or rhythm. Willis scowls and looks annoyed, sometimes smirking if something catches him as funny. Morgan takes his "30 Rock" persona and cranks it to 11, weirdly mispronouncing words and shouting his lines as if sheer volume will force the laughs from the audience. Never do the two actors appear to be working on the same wavelength and, although we're told they've worked together for nine years, there's never a sense of camaraderie, friendship or even respect.

Instead, they shout obscenities, talk about sex and make poop jokes.

And yes, in the interest of full disclosure, one of the times I laughed was at a poop joke. What can I say, I have weaknesses.

Being a Kevin Smith film, one would expect comments about genitalia, sexual practices and general crassness. And although it's discomforting and offensive in Smith's other films, he's able to get away with it because it comes across as honest. In "Chasing Amy" or "Clerks," his characters were offensive, but one never got the chance that he Smith was trying to shock his audience. Instead, there was always the very real sense that Smith was writing characters he was familiar with, and Smith comes from a background that swears and jokes about sex. It may not be the greatest use of his talent, but there was always a strong sense of originality and heart to Smith's best endeavors--"Chasing Amy," "Dogma" and "Clerks 2" work despite their vulgarity because Smith had something he wanted to say, be it about relationships in the 1990s, his Catholic upbringing or the slacker culture realizing it's time to grow up. They're not clean films, but they're honest ones, coming from a filmmaker with something on his mind.

In "Cop Out," there's no emotional underpinning, no personal connection for Smith, yet he still feels the need to toss in vulgar sexual comments and crude language. It comes off as distracting and unnecessary at first and then, by the end becomes exhausting in its immaturity.

Smith's strengths have always been as a writer and here, working from someone else's screenplay, he seems lost and unable to frame what should be an easy joke. For instance, the movie's first scene should have been easy enough: Morgan is going to go interrogate a suspect and, for him, that just means spouting off movie quotes. And it's genuinely funny to see Morgan start shouting every cop cliche: "King Kong ain't got nothing on me!" or "Say hello to my little friend." It gets even funnier when he starts tossing in everything from "The Color Purple" to "Dirty Dancing." There's even a nice chuckle when he leaves the suspect by shouting "These are not the droids you're looking for."

But the scene's momentum is lost by intercutting reaction shots of Willis citing all the movies Morgan is quoting, which robs the scene of energy and only serves to show that Smith is afraid his audience won't get the reaction. For a filmmaker so steeped in geek culture and who made a living by referencing the "Holy Trilogy," it's a bit off-putting to see Smith spoonfeed the jokes to his audience and rob Morgan of his energy. Yes, it's funny to have Morgan quote "Yippee-Kai-Yay" in a Bruce Willis movie. It's NOT funny to have Willis respond "never seen it."

The scene gets even worse as Willis calls the other cops in to laugh at Morgan's shenanigans. Instead of showing him appalled at his partners tactics or using this as a way to show that Jimmy doesn't take Paul seriously, Willis' character actually seems amused...and when everyone's laughing at a character doing something funny, it ceases to be funny. By the time Willis drew a penis on the two-way mirror, the laughs in theater dried up.

And the whole film is made up of miscalculations like that. Morgan shouts lines that aren't funny, Willis scowls and there's never a rhythm or energy to the film. A subplot involving Paul's wife is inert from the start, proving that while Rashida Jones had a charm on "The Office" and "Parks and Recreation," filmmakers have no clue how to treat her. Smith, a director short on visual skill, bungles the action scenes, robbing the film of even some good shoot-outs.

In the end, you have to take laughs where you can find them. Yes, I chuckled when Morgan punched a little kid in the crotch. And Seann William Scott shows up in what would be considered the "Joe Pesci role" as a convict bent on annoying Morgan's character. The film's energy picks up a bit when he's on the screen. Pollack and Brody have an interesting rapport and Brody has a great reaction shot at the end that made me want to see a film about those two characters instead. And yes, there's a monologue about pooping that made me laugh...but I was still ashamed.

In the end, to successfully pull off this kind of homage, you have to have more than a funny script (something I don't think 'Cop Out' even started with). You have to be able to mimic the genre's energy, lovingly ape its cliches and--most importantly--have two stars with great chemistry. While watching "Cop Out," my mind kept returning to "Hot Fuzz" and how perfectly it achieved much of the same thing Smith is aiming for here. "Hot Fuzz" worked because Simon Pegg and Nick Frost have a fantastic chemistry together and because director Edgar Wright knew that some of the best humor came from cranking up action movie cliches to ludicrous heights. Halfway through the film I turned to my friend and said, "we should have just gone to my house and watched 'Hot Fuzz." At least there were no poop jokes or phallus drawn on the walls there.

Sigh. It's a review that sucks to write because I'm such a fan of so many people involved. Morgan will one day finally come across a director who knows how to control him and if Willis survived "Hudson Hawk" and "Mercury Rising" he'll probably be safe here. But it's Smith who's at a crossroads. If he's truly divorcing himself from writing original screenplays to take on more commercial works, he's going to have to find some way to inject his sensibilities and passion into it. Because his heart is obviously not in "Cop Out" and the result is a mess that should be illegal.

Catch ups--"Big Fan" and "Extract"

Sorry for the delay between posts. I was sidelined for about a week by sickness and then another week when things went insane at my day job. It's been awhile since I've actually hit the theater--the madness at work meant I took two weeks off my freelancing work to adjust--and I'm going tonight with a friend, so hopefully I'll have my thoughts up soon about whatever we see.

But I did want to chime in with thoughts on two films I recently was able to catch up with at home that I thought were worth brief mentions. So, enjoy!

Big Fan (2009, dir. Robert Siegel)

"I can't tell you how sick I am..."

Those words open "Big Fan," Robert Siegel's haunting look at fanaticism. And while the words are spoken in regard to its protagonist's frustration with his beloved New York Giants, they also unsettlingly foreshadow the fact that this film follows a man with some deep issues.

That man is Paul Aufierto (Patton Oswalt). Paul is a short, shlubby man in his mid-thirties. He still lives with his mother in Staten Island and works as a toll collector in a New York parking garage. He has few friends, no romantic possibilities and looks pained when he has to sit at a family get together with his successful siblings.

It's not that Paul wants a family or a better job. It's that these get togethers and these entanglements would be obstacles to the one thing he loves more than anything in life: the New York Giants. Every Sunday Paul and his best friend Sal (Kevin Corrigan) tailgate in the parking lot of the Giants' stadium, alternating in cheers and curses as they watch the game on television while the fans watch it live just a few feet away. Paul's greatest triumph, the thing that makes him come alive, is when he can deliver his carefully written and rehearsed diatribes on a sports talk radio show, where he trades barbs with his rival, Philadelphia Phil.

Paul is obsessed with the Giants. It's the only thing that makes gives him passion. He goes through his days with a pained expression on his face, suffering his family and those who offer him "something better" for a living. But he smiles, cheers, laughs and screams when the Giants are on. For him "Football is Life, the rest is just details" is not a clever t-shirt slogan...it's his philosophy.

One night, Paul and Sal are out and run across the Giants' star quarterback, Quantrell Bishop (Johnathan Hamm). An feeble attempt at saying hello quickly turns disastrous and Paul finds himself severely assaulted by Bishop. Upon awaking three days later in the hospital, Paul is urged by his friends and family to sue. But that would mean Bishop would be unable to play and the Giants would likely lose. And if the Giants lose, what does Paul have to hope for in life?

It's easy to see that "Big Fan" could, in lesser hands, become a broad, raucous comedy. And that's probably what anyone would expect coming from Oswalt, one of the best stand-up comedians working these days (and a solid comedic actor in his own right in "King of Queens" or "Ratatouille"). But Siegel, who wrote the devastating "The Wrestler," has a different story in mind, one that feels more like "Taxi Driver" than "Celtic Pride."

The most devastating thing about the character of Paul Aufiero is that I know he exists. He's the friend who obsessively talks about sports anytime he gets a chance, arguing until he's red in the face about his team's chances next fall---in the middle of summer. He's the movie geek who spends hours on message boards, tearing apart every comic book adaptation and going off on diatribes about his favorite actors and actresses. He's the political addict, spouting Rush Limbaugh, Glenn Beck or (on the other side) Al Franken and Chris Matthews as if their words were Gospel, flying off the handle anytime something threatens his deeply ingrained, cherished and elevated political beliefs.

In other words, "Big Fan" is not about sports. It's about obsession. In another context, it's about idolatry. It's about what happens when something takes such a place in our lives that everything else becomes meaningless. It's not that Paul is an evil person. It's that he's a sick person...so obsessed with football that everything else is secondary. He's got a job, but no desire to better himself, move out of his mother's home, start a family or live a normal life. When the Giants begin to lose because of his dilemma, he struggles with how to proceed--deal in a way that preserves his dignity, or make a sacrifice to his idols.

It's a shame this film didn't get much of a release--had I seen it before the year's end, Oswalt's performance would be one of my top five of 2009. His routines often deal with pop culture obsessions and general geekery, but here he lets go of any of the joy it brings and showcases a sad, sick man who is so captured by his idols that his own life is secondary. It's a powerful performance and Oswalt's brings to life Paul's saddness, loneliness, anger and resentement while still making us empathetic for the character. The "Taxi Driver" comparison I made earlier wasn't flippant--Paul could easily be kin to Travis Bickle, an isolated loner with no connections. The difference is that Paul's isolated himself and, unlike Bickle, seems to not care about his lack of connections.

Siegel's script is solid, as is his direction. I'm sure that there was the temptation to inject a bit of humor into the story or lighten up Paul's character a bit...but that would have been wrong. Like "The Wrestler," this is a story of a man who's been damaged by his own choices and is so obsessed with sticking to the things that have brought him joy before that he neglects any chance to sacrifice it in hopes of new happiness. The film's final 20 minutes get dark and I began to fear that Siegel was going to make the "Taxi Driver" comparisons a bit too apt...but the final moments balance tragedy with a sad humor without tipping things too dark.

"Big Fan" unfortunately didn't get much of a release, but I believe most cable companies are carrying it direct and it should be able to be found on DVD. It's definitely worth a look.

Extract (2009, dir. Mike Judge)

Mike Judge just can't win, can he?

First, "Office Space" was ignored in theaters only to become a cult classic. Then "King of the Hill," despite being on television for over a decade, was always considered Fox's underdog animated comedy. Then "Idiocracy" languished for months, was dumped into approximately two theaters and released unceremoniously to DVD where--you guessed it--it became a cult classic.

This past fall, Miramax gave Judge a fair shake with "Extract," his return to the workplace comedy. They promoted the film, released it in a good number of theaters and gave it every show to work. And...audiences stayed away.

Given Judge's track record, I'm sure they'll catch up eventually.

And they should. While nothing great, "Extract" is an often funny and witty comedy featuring Judge's trademark deadpan wit. While I'm a fan of "Idiocracy," this film tones down the volume a bit and is a more focused work, allowing Judge's trademark dry humor to flourish and giving some well-respected comedic actors a chance to shine.

Jason Bateman is Joel Reynolds, the owner of an extract factory. He's happy with his job, proud of what he can do and trying his best to manage a crew of dimwitted gossips on the production floor. It doesn't help that his co-manager Brian (J.K. Simmons) has so little interest in his job that he has stopped learning his employee's names, prefering instead to call them "boy genius" and "dinkus" (there may actually be two dinkuses.)

Joel is having a bit of a rough time as the film opens. He's not having much luck with his wife (Kristen Wiig), who puts on sweatpants and denies him any extracurricular marital activities if he's not home by eight each night. An unfortunate accident at the plant has cost one of his workers a vital part of the male anatomy and could cost Joel an important sale to General Mills. And there's the distractingly beautiful new employee Cindy (Mila Kunis), who feigns interest in Joel but may have ulterior motives in mind.

"Extract's" marketing hinged on comparing the film to "Office Space," but that's not entirely true. The sympathies are switched here. If "Office Space" was about the little men rebelling against a faceless, unsympathetic and clueless corporate world, "Extract" is about the Man and his frustration with the selfish, clueless peons he manages. And there's some clever humor in watching the factory women gossip about the new foreign help or in the airheaded forklift driver inviting everyone to his band's show.

But satire seems to be further from Judge's mind here, as he's actually interested in telling a story about characters. As much as I love "Office Space" and "Idiocracy," the characters were two-dimensional, nothin more than entry points into a broader satire. Here, Judge actually has characters with arcs, interested in saving their marriage, selling the factory or just selling some tranquilizer.

While it's refreshing to see Judge branch out a bit, the film does lose a bit of the focus that the best parts of his other works have had. It's fun to see Gene Simmons as a disgusting lawyer, but he's only good for a scene and then the subplot's dropped. There's a b-story about Joel hiring a gigolo to cheat with his wife so he can be excused for getting into an affair, but the story never really gels or provides much humor, except for the fact that the gigolo is brilliantly dumb.

The humor here seems to come when the film forgets the plot and lets its characters riff. Simmons and Bateman's scenes are always amusing--any scene in any movie with J.K. Simmons is amusing, as a rule. Ben Affleck shows up as a drug dealer/bartender/part-time pimp and his musings are the film's highlights. David Koechner shows up as the world's most boring, intrusive neighbor and his scenes are probably the most dead-on satire in the film, perfectly capturing Judge's dry sensibility and feeling very "Office Space"-esque.

But for everything that works, something doesn't. Wiig has proven that, given the right work, she's one of the funniest women working. Unfortunately, her role is underwritten and she's the straight character, not the best place for her to be. Kunis is fine in her role but her con of an injured worker just doesn't seem to work and her storyline just kind of fades out. The film's climax is a bit messy as well.

Still, "Extract" is able to, um, extract a few charms and good laughs. It's nice to see Affleck this loose and funny and Bateman's line delivery is always great. It's nice to see Judge trying to get a bit more ambitious with his storytelling....let's just hope before he steps into the office again he pays attention to his performance reviews.