Funny People (2009, Judd Apatow)

It's unfortunate that the critical reaction to Judd Apatow's Funny People has been mixed at best thus far -- I'd hoped that the Oscar buzz that surrounded the movie prior to release would translate into actual awards gold for Apatow, striking a blow for real comedy in the stuffy world of statuette-baiting event pictures. Unfortunately, Funny People -- somewhat of a work of flawed brilliance in the ever-so-indifferent genre of disease dramas -- has eluded the critical praise that Apatow's previous efforts (Knocked Up and the 40-Year-Old Virgin, both uproarious comedic tours-de-force tempered with winning geniality and sweetness) have earned him.

Understandable, to be sure. Funny People is a difficult movie at times -- Apatow's tale of a leukemia-stricken comedy star taking on a protege is absolutely all over the place, in both narrative and tone. Still, there's a lot of good to be found here. Lead Adam Sandler, whose George Simmons is a faintly-veiled version of himself (horrible gimmick flicks and all), lays bare his comedic persona in what may be his most fully-realized performance to date; Sandler proves, like Jim Carrey and Robin Williams before him, that he's much more potent as a real person than as an overgrown, arrested-development retard onscreen, and here, he bravely makes his character intensely unlikable. Seth Rogen, meanwhile, continues his can't-lose streak, not quite topping his brilliant turn in Jody Hill's Observe and Report, but inspiring winning notices as the film's comedic center. Naive up-and-comer Ira Wright may be Rogen's most complicated role to date - he succeeds where richer George fails, morally speaking, takes a lot of crap from his would-be mentor, and even manages to give the not-so-funny moments a swig of wincing, true-to-life comedy to chase its potent pathos (watch Ira bomb on-stage -- being unfunny has rarely been so hilarious -- or watch Ira blubber uncontrollably about George's sickness. It's all uncomfortable, touching, and rewardingly funny, all at once).

But what Apatow has always needed is an objective editor -- althought his first features sustained momentum, despite epic-level runtimes for funny pictures -- and Funny People kind of stumbles around in its final act, dispensing with its other stories to concentrate on Sandler's romance with old flame Leslie Mann. (Mann is terrific, by the way -- a scene-stealer in those first two movies, she's actually a valuable member of Apatow's troupe, regardless of her real-life marriage to the director. Her appreciation for both comedic AND dramatic detail can be awe-inspiring.) A wonderfully hammy Eric Bana shows up to liven things, but it stagnates a bit -- and, theatrically, this thing is an unwieldy 2 hours 40, so eyelids may droop near the end there.

Still, there's a lot to like here: the performances are uniformly terrific, and when the comedy trots out, it's usually very funny. And I haven't even mentioned Jason Schwartzmann, who's chintzy sitcom needs to be seen to be believed. Despite a lot of pacing issues, this is a bit of a fractured masterpiece. Squeezing sentimentality out of hilarity is Apatow's bread and butter as a director, so I'm not really sure what people would have expected from this flick -- still, all told, this really shouldn't derail the Apatow train. And I wouldn't want it to -- these sort of far-from-perfect tours de force are a necessity in today's stagnant comic world.

Rating: **** (out of five)

Scary Movie 4 (2006, David Zucker)

Good God, I think I like this movie.

Not wholly, and not without qualifications. Scary Movie 4 suffers from what all of these movies suffer from -- gravitating towards the foul and unseemly, and top-loaded with recycled jokes that seem transported, wholesale, from the Epic Movie set. But I like Scary Movie 4 because, well, all of the other Scary Movies make it look good.

Make no mistake, it's a bad movie. But it's also a funny one from time to time -- Craig Bierko turns in a lovably oblivious performance, and essentially carries the movie -- a featherweight load to shoulder, yes, but still. I'm not sure that I care to get into this movie, but I'm just saying, when it shows up on Comedy Central, there are worse ways to spend your idle time than letting this one play out.

Rating: ** (out of five)

Clerks II (2006, Kevin Smith)

When it comes to my slavish reverence for comedy-- my Achille's Heel genre for a number of years at this point-- my softest spot is for Kevin Smith, he of fanboys so devoted that it's almost funny to see characters voice his anti-fanboy rants. He's comparable to my other soft spot, Judd Apatow (hi, I'm Drew, the only blogger who actually enjoyed Drillbit Taylor), in that both limit themselves to very specific casts, crews, and demographics, and have an affinity for blending sentiment with weiner jokes. More to the point, Smith and Apatow aren't particularly accomplished directors, in the visual sense, and that's not necessarily a knock: they both write potent dialogue delivered by (mostly) funny people, and movie magic for them is pointing the camera and watching it happen. So, given my avowed Apatow devotion, I suppose you kinda could've predicted that I'd be a K-Smith fan (or apologist, given how you feel about the man)-- not of the rabid variety, but yeah, I own 'em all (well, okay, not Jersey Girl, or that animated "Clerks" set), and don't find it too trying to go back to the well with mild frequency.

That being said, I've been mulling it over, and I think there's a chance Clerks II is Smith's best. Revisiting his 1994 little-picture-that-could, Smith avoids total redux by at least changing locales (the Quick Stop has burned down, and Dante and Randal have taken to being snarky and having their pop-culture-laced back-and-forths behind the counter at their local Mooby's) and sprucing up the cast a bit (welcome new additions include Trevor Fehrman's priceless evangelical Transformers fan Elias and a glowing Rosario Dawson as manager Becky). Early on, the movie proves itself to be quite funny. Jeff Anderson's Randal's screwup snark, presumably honed by 12 years of being snarky and screwing up, remains as glib and bawdy as ever, his penchant for ratatat vulgarity and sacred-cow screeds the high point of most of this movie's guffaws. Elias, too, is a singular comic creation, a soft-spoken, chaste, lovable nerd who, as performed by Fehrman, hits every note perfectly. (One could wish for more screen time, though.) Meanwhile, as the belly laughs continue out front, Dante (Brian O'Halloran, still a charmingly clunky actor) and Becky gab wistfully over a toenail-painting session. You see, it's Dante's last day before he leaves for Florida and a complacent existence with his dream-girl fiancee, but there's more than meets the eye with Becky and blah blah blah.

I know it all sounds pretty standard-issue, and it is, really. When it came out, Clerks II left a lot of people talking about it's startling emotional heft, which makes me wonder: have people really forgotten about Chasing Amy already? But Smith blends pretty seamlessly here. There's an endless parade of vulgarity, lots of Jay and Silent Bob doing their Jay and Silent Bob thing, obligatory screeds on pop culture (delivered by characters that are obvious mouthpieces for Smith's personal views), and a few cameos. But there's also an impeccably directed musical number smack in the middle, and near the end, the film's foulest, vilest scene (it involves a donkey) arrives sandwiched between two that go directly for the gut. It's an interesting mix, and that Smith managed to pull it off while making a really valid point about the horrors of aging is nothing if not impressive.

The humor kills-- during the first half of the movie, jokes arrive at metronome-precise intervals, and always hit like a perfect cymbal crash. The rhythm of Smith's comedic dialogue really hasn't been this good since the first Clerks, and part deux lands punchlines like waves on the Jersey shore (my personal favorite is the oblivious Randal's "porch monkey" faux pax, as much for the dumbfounded looks of everyone involved as for the actual verbal content).

But the drama works too. O'Halloran rarely sells it, but he lands a knockout punch right before the aforementioned musical number (set to the Jackson's "ABC", of course), in a perfect shot that manages to show him falling in love without, amazingly, telling us through expository dialogue. Rosario, of course, can sell anything; ostensibly, she's above the material, but she's got a natural screen presence and she positively glows throughout the film. Surprisingly, some of the film's heft comes from Anderson as the sarcastic, guarded Randal-- there's a scene near the end that, improbably, comes out pitch-perfect, because Anderson plays it so well. He's actually kind of wonderful in this, so attuned with the film's flippancy _and_ sentiment that he kinda carries it at times.

The film missteps, of course. Again, O'Halloran is hardly a master thespian, but I understand that there's a film-school-buddy chemistry there that's needed for the picture to succeed (well, that and you can't really replace the main character without looking at least a little bit retarded). But Jennifer Schwalbach? Smith again casts his wife (she had a role in Jay and Silent Bob Strike Back), but this time in a far more crucial role: Dante's meal-ticket fiancee Emma. I understand the necessity for Smith to make his films with people he likes, but really, there had to be someone else in his repertory that he could've snagged for this role. What, was Joey Lauren Adams at a Jennifer Tilly soundalike convention?

But small potatoes. Clerks II is Smith's most accomplished movie-- the gravity of 30s angst hits hard, all the jokes make their mark, and at the end of the day it's a tremendous little feel-good comedy. There's a real heart inside this coarse little picture, and Smith and Company coax it out with relative ease.

Rating: **** (out of five)

Drillbit Taylor (2008, Steven Brill)

Aaaand the Apatow comedy brand barrels full-steam ahead. This time around, three put-upon kids hire Owen Wilson-- a vagrant conman masquerading as a troubled veteran with a master's in ass-kicking-- to ward off their high-school intimidator, a wild-eyed, legally emancipated ("he's above the law!") neo-bully named Filkins. It's a PG-13 high school comedy-- you'd be right to be skeptical.

But Drillbit Taylor isn't nearly as bad as the general public would have you believe. While certain scenes may remind you of an edited-for-tv Superbad-- that's right, the gangly awkward kid and the chubby motormouth even have their own McLovin-- there's startling enjoyment to be found here. Sure, the best gags aren't up to even the throwaways in Pineapple Express or older sib Superbad, but of the recent litany of flicks with Judd Apatow's inimitable fingerprints on it, it's right up there with Walk Hard in the category of "not a classic, but better than Zohan."

This movie hinges on the kids. Owen tries-- he's always fun to watch, isn't he? well, except for I Spy-- but he's not really the star of this particular show. The kids are the surprising element here-- engaging, full of heart, and funny. Very funny, in fact. Jonah Hill-in-training Troy Gentile is the show-stealer here-- one part foul (PG-13 foul, at least) know-it-all, one part gangsta posturing-- but Nate Hartley has a few fantastic moments as Gentile's gawky partner-in-crime. He's the movie's soul when it's all over with-- his performance is the most heartfelt, the most real. Also, the Junior McLovin here is the creepy son from The Ring. Even Alex Frost is great as the bully. He gets this scary look in his eyes like someone told him he was the villain in the new X-Men movie, but the contrast kinda works here. His bad guy is one who earns his inevitable comeuppance. He has this great standoff with Hartley, mid-movie, that actually warrants some excitement, and it's cool.

It's ashame, kind of, that the adults are so forgettable. The greener thespians here run rings around their seasoned counterparts. Wilson fares the best, but he's hardly at the top of his game, and elsewhere, lots of exciting names show up in pretty flat minor roles. Stephen Root gets a few chuckles as an oblivious principal, but Leslie Mann, so memorable in Knocked Up and 40-Year-Old Virgin, here disappoints as Wilson's drooling galpal, disappointingly expendable. Even Danny McBride, a scene-stealer in high-profile comedies like Pineapple Express and Tropic Thunder, fails to land a good laugh. Actually, it's Frank Whaley, of all people, in a fleeting cameo as an auditioning bodyguard, who makes the biggest impression, but after his twitchy turn as a creepster motel owner in Vacancy, I'm lobbying for more roles for that dude anyway.

The script begs some inevitable questions. Drillbit's substitute teacher charade becomes even more preposterous when some of his homeless buddies show up for work, and even the film's central conceit is suspect: what's more emasculating, taking your knocks from a bully, or having to call in the adult cavalry to stave him off? Still, the movie's a lot more charming than I would've anticipated, and as lesser Apatow (weird how we still call them Apatow movies when he's only directed two features, huh? dude's got the comedic world under his thumb right now), it works in that dialed-down, reduced-raunch Superbad sorta way.

Plus, flick gets major props for: 1.) avoiding the obvious, mawkish, "violence solves nothing" sentiment that similar movies would've taken, and 2.) featuring a rap battle as a central turning point. If more movies had rap battles, cinema would flourish a little bit more, I think. Might've even liked The Happening if it'd had a rap battle.

Rating: *** (out of five)

Pineapple Express (2008, David Gordon Green)

Since seeing this over the summer, I'd almost forgotten how much I enjoyed Pineapple Express. Not quite-- there were some very funny moments I remember from opening weekend, and besides I just kinda de facto like anything the Apatow factory churns out-- but almost. Man, though, watching this thing again, there's a solid chance this is the best thing the Apatow/Rogen dynasty has put out yet.

It's certainly the most exciting. In David Gordon Green, this ribald troupe has gotten their hands on their most accomplished director-- he of gorgeous indie dramas George Washington and Undertow-- and he doesn't disappoint, directing with startling flair an cross-pollination of comedy and action, two genres you wouldn't imagine him keeping in his back pocket.

Seth Rogen, not content to rest on his laurels ever since Apatow launched him, Steve Carrell-style, into the leading-man stratosphere, gives one of the funniest performances of his career thus far; of course, James Franco and Danny McBride vie for title of "most scenes stolen", and they're both tremendous. Franco's shockingly adept at comedy, and his friendly drug dealer is one of those performances that makes you wish the Oscars respected comedy a little more. McBride's the revelation, of course-- his is such a fully-formed character, full of awesome little tics and seemingly throwaway lines and twisting allegiances and motivations, that one can only imagine his star trajectory has to be next.

The ensemble does well too-- the Apatow-produced movies tend to surround themselves with formidable supporting casts, and Pineapple Express proves no exception, pitting the Rogen/Franco duo against bickering thugs played by "Office" scene-stealer Craig Robinson and the inimitable Kevin Corrigan, and a pair of corrupt weed-conglomerate figureheads in Gary Cole and Rosie Perez. Perez and Cole bring professionalism to the forefront, locating that delicate balance between nefarious and hilarious.

I dunno, I suppose a big draw to this film for me-- other than it being hilarious-- is the way it handles that balance. It's funny, at times really REALLY funny, but there's good filmmaking in here: there's an exciting, expertly-filmed car chase (which is also hilarious), a series of surprisingly violent deaths near the end (occasionally hilarious), and, best of all, an epic fight between Rogen and Cole, which seems to gun for how exactly a fight between these two would go down in real life, in all its awkward, bumbling glory. Of course, there's that gratuitous John Woo shot of Seth leaping from the heavens, limbs askew, but that's part of what's so gratifying in a film like this-- it needles in little loving odes to action films while providing some mild satire, and it takes that sort of loving touch to effectively spoof. (Ask those Shaun of the Dead guys-- you can tell they really appreciate all the horror tropes, y'know? Same principle.)

It's really just a good job done all around, and it all adds up to what may be the principles' finest collabo. The mean streak is there, but all the congenial buddy comedy is too. In fact, Rogen and writing partner Evan Goldberg wrote Superbad, too, and you can tell-- the dynamic, the buddies embarking on wild misadventures, the sledgehammer-subtle comparison of sexual and best-bud relationships, it's all there. One can only hope they'll let that remain an enduring theme in future collaborations, as there's so few comedies out there that really, truly explore the bonds of friendship-- I mean, you can make a billion "bros before hos" comedies, but Rogen and company show before they tell. These relationships feel real, and that's worth its weight in comedy gold.

And make no mistake, Pineapple Express is comedy gold. The great film caper comedy is back with a vengeance, and I, for one, am in.

Rating: ****1/2 (out of five)