comedy
Why is it so hard to make a comedy that's funny? So many recent movies have a grim air about them. You can feel the sweat of their desperation to make five hundred million on opening weekend. That's why it's nearly impossible to get me to go to any movie with Ben Stiller, Robin Williams, Jim Carrey, or Will Farrell. They're hilarious men, but they're part of a system that can't provide hilarity reliably. At least not for an entire movie: most comedies have only just enough comedy for a preview that's three-quarters funny.
The other day we saw Liar, Liar, probably Jim Carrey's best comedy. Most people use the word "vehicle" as a deprecation. They call a movie a vehicle for an actor only when the vehicle doesn't get you there. But Liar, Liar is a true vehicle, in that it carries its star without breaking down, getting a flat tire, or straying off the road. The only real problem in it is that the moments of real emotion — love, forgiveness — that make any comedy really shine are handled here with a clumsiness we're all wearily used to, especially because not only every adult character but the movie itself talks down to children. Even with that giant stain, the movie manages to be fun.
Ahhhhh, but this weekend Catherine and I saw a comedy that was funny. Everybody knows that England has thousands of brilliant supporting actors roaming the streets, to be picked at random. America has worked hard to match this condition, Law and Order being Exhibit A, but only in the dramatic realm. Overseas, they can be hilarious seemingly without effort.
The latest proof of that is Death at a Funeral, a movie that's just as profane and scatological as America's worst, and which is also very very funny. It's just a relief to see that when the inevitable moments of reconciliation, honor, and love come forth, they're done in an organic, believable, non-overblown, unsticky way. And it's sheer pleasure to sit back and enjoy the timing — from actors and from the director, Frank Oz, and from the editor — that nears perfection. All the elements go off in a symphonically delightful wave: a pill bottle, a menacing midget, a parade of people bursting in the door one after the other.
Tons of fun. Throw some money its way.
The other day we saw Liar, Liar, probably Jim Carrey's best comedy. Most people use the word "vehicle" as a deprecation. They call a movie a vehicle for an actor only when the vehicle doesn't get you there. But Liar, Liar is a true vehicle, in that it carries its star without breaking down, getting a flat tire, or straying off the road. The only real problem in it is that the moments of real emotion — love, forgiveness — that make any comedy really shine are handled here with a clumsiness we're all wearily used to, especially because not only every adult character but the movie itself talks down to children. Even with that giant stain, the movie manages to be fun.
Ahhhhh, but this weekend Catherine and I saw a comedy that was funny. Everybody knows that England has thousands of brilliant supporting actors roaming the streets, to be picked at random. America has worked hard to match this condition, Law and Order being Exhibit A, but only in the dramatic realm. Overseas, they can be hilarious seemingly without effort.
The latest proof of that is Death at a Funeral, a movie that's just as profane and scatological as America's worst, and which is also very very funny. It's just a relief to see that when the inevitable moments of reconciliation, honor, and love come forth, they're done in an organic, believable, non-overblown, unsticky way. And it's sheer pleasure to sit back and enjoy the timing — from actors and from the director, Frank Oz, and from the editor — that nears perfection. All the elements go off in a symphonically delightful wave: a pill bottle, a menacing midget, a parade of people bursting in the door one after the other.
Tons of fun. Throw some money its way.
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