comedy

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The World’s End

The-Worlds-End-poster

Directed by Edgar Wright

Starring Simon Pegg, Nick Frost

Grade: A

Shaun of the Dead was a surprisingly tender movie. A genre parody that had real affection for its characters was just ambitious enough to be something special. Likewise, Hot Fuzz did the same thing for the buddy cop movie. Now again, director Edgar Wright, and actors/writers Simon Pegg and Nick Frost are back with The World’s End, and they’re just as interested in creating characters that the audience will grow to care about and go to battle with as creating a hilarious alien apocalypse.

The plot is this: Five friends reunite, all except one unwillingly, to have another crack at a pub crawl they tried, and failed, when they were teenagers. Now in their late thirties, they all have baggage of pretty normal fare, wives and kids and jobs they hate and the like. Gary (Pegg), however, seemingly has larger problems, alcoholism being one of the primary issues. He assembles his friends and they all go with him mostly out of some misguided loyalty, though Andy (Frost) has deeper issues with Gary than the rest. They attempt this pub crawl, half-heartedly except for Gary, until things start to get weird. You’ll find no spoilers here, but you probably have an idea where it’s going if you’ve seen the trailers or ever seen one of these guys’ movies before. Vulgar, Apatow-style humor is combined with old-school Sci-fi movies with once again fantastic results.

Pegg and Frost switch their roles, so to speak, in this film. Frost plays the straight man while Pegg is the crazy one. Or if you like, Frost is Abbott and Pegg is Costello. Both actors are able to find the right humor and vulnerability in their roles to carry the movie. Pegg has made a nice career out of playing the reliable guy, the cautious and nice character that always seems to find himself in over his head, but here he is dangerous and unstable and brings an edge to the character that plays nicely. In Andy, Frost brings a quiet anger that’s bubbling just beneath the surface that is ready to erupt any time Gary challenges his patience. The supporting roles are all played with near perfect touches and a small role by Pierce Brosnan is pretty damn fun. And for those of you keeping score, yes, Cornetto does make it’s cameo.

The World’s End is funny and endearing. This is their third movie in the Cornetto trilogy and Wright, Pegg, and Frost understand these types of parodies. Too often nowadays, the spoof movies just go for heartless laughs, dick jokes and celebrity cameos while attempting to skewer the source material. These guys, though, understand what Mel Brooks always understood: that parody is a form of love. They love the movies they’re making fun of and remember that there has to be a story in there as well. Oh there’s plenty of dick jokes in there too, but at least we like the people making them. That’s all we ask as an audience, to like the people telling dick jokes.

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The Way Way Back

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Directed by Nat Faxon and Jim Rash
Starring Liam James, Sam Rockwell, Toni Collette, Steve Carell, AnnaSophia Robb

Grade: B+

Story-telling conventions exist for a reason: they work. It’s pretty simple. We don’t gripe about clichés because they are inherently terrible, our ire comes from the fact that we’ve seen them too many times, presented in the same way, and our brain no longer is able to feel empathy or excitement. Modern movies, mainly of the independent nature, tend to spend a good deal of their efforts turning those conventions on their head, flipping them in some new direction so we can applaud them for their originality and we the viewers can pat ourselves on the back because we’re free thinkers and not slave to the Hollywood machine. The Way Way Back takes a different approach. Instead of twisting things around, the film instead chooses to remind us why those familiar tropes worked in the first place. Why we eternally seem to identify with the socially awkward, displaced teenager, why we want to befriend the older, eccentric loser who just may be the wisest man in the room, and why parental authority is just the worst.

The plot follows shy kid Duncan (Liam James) as he goes on summer vacation with his mother (Toni Collette) to her dickish boyfriend’s beach house. Duncan would rather be with his dad, but for reasons we immediately understand better than he does that is not going to happen. Mom’s boyfriend, Trent (Steve Carell) is an alpha male type and seems to be constantly establishing his dominance over Duncan, who in refusing to play the ridiculous mind game loses by default. Also along for the ride is Trent’s bitchy daughter (Zoe Levin) who is self-absorbed in that painful way that kids with self-absorbed parents are. The adults party, “it’s like spring break for adults” says Susanna (AnnaSophia Robb), the hot girl next door who inexplicably seems to be drawn to Duncan, and the miserable young man feels completely isolated from his family. In an attempt to escape, Duncan visits a local water park where he befriends the manager Owen (Sam Rockwell) who hires him. Owen is the kind of person that can only exist in the movies. He’s aimless, but smarter than he has any right to be and seems to have some sort of natural understanding of human behavior. He’s clearly got his own problems but he never projects them onto anybody else, instead only exists to help our young protagonist through his journey. As you would guess, Duncan learns to stand up for himself and gains the all important self-esteem because of his time at a job any sane person would deem shitty and soul-suckingly awful.

James brings a pure awkwardness to this role. The physicality alone is good acting, as Duncan constantly hunches over in that way that tall kids with no self-esteem tend to do. Being tall takes a certain level of confidence and when you don’t have it, you hide your size in an effort to not be noticed (I know this for all too personal reasons). His attempts at conversation with anybody at all are painful as he has no mastery whatsoever of social cues. The stand out performance is Sam Rockwell’s Owen though. He takes a character we’ve all seen a hundred times but delivers it so naturally that it feels fresh somehow. We buy his character probably because he’s the guy we’d really like to be hanging out with ourselves, and understand Duncan’s draw to him. The supporting cast is strong and littered with familiar faces. Rob Corduroy, Amanda Peet, a hilarious Allison Janney and the always dependable Maya Rudolph all lend this movie credibility where it otherwise would probably lack.

Steve Carell as Trent, though, is a failing of this movie. I get that he’s a dick, but does he have to just be a complete piece of shit? There’s not really a lot of depth to him other than that he’s a car salesman and he’s exactly what you’d expect a car salesman who’s dating your mother to be like. Carell doesn’t do a bad job with it exactly, it’s just kind of a frustrating character. The other weak point is Susanna’s interest in Duncan. The friendship I buy, as they’re both struggling with new family situations that more or less suck and they feel isolated, but the romance feels forced and unnecessary. Duncan’s victory should be that he made a friend and was able to communicate with a hot girl, but there’s no way she’d actually be attracted to him. He’ll get the girl later in life, but for now, let’s just stick with being able to have a conversation about something other than the weather.

The Way Way Back is corny and sappy and it knows it. I suppose it’s probably impossible to not watch this movie with some degree of cynicism nowadays as we’re all terribly jaded, but if you can get past that curmudgeony part of yourself, watch this movie and enjoy it. It hits all the right, if incredibly familiar, notes.

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Bossypants by Tina Fey

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Grade: B

Comedian memoirs are a tricky thing. Often times, the writer will want to broach serious issues and ruin our good time because we just want them to make us laugh, damn it. To be fair, a good amount of the time this is due to poor or manipulative writing and the rejection is well deserved. Very few of these books transcend the genre and become something else, Steve Martin’s Born Standing Up being, arguably, the best example of this. In Bossypants, Tina Fey does occasionally, but not always, achieve this. She has an agenda (Note to my conservative readers: Please don’t read that as “Liberal Agenda” because that’s not what I mean and that word doesn’t always have to have negative connotations), being the general view of female comics and the unreasonable backlash one gets from simply being female in the comedy world, and sticks with it pretty much throughout the book. Fey, being a champion of women in comedy, almost has a responsibility to visit that theme again and again. She does this through the insight of her own experiences, which are obviously extensive and relevant, and light-hearted, self-deprecating humor running throughout.

This is not a straight forward memoir in the sense that there is no obvious through line. She jumps around in time to periods she feels are most relevant to the themes of the book, and there are frequent asides, such as her tribute to the greatness of Amy Poehler, which will be frustrating to readers who would prefer a more traditional biography, but is refreshing to those of us who are tired of traditional biographies. There are topics she avoids, mostly things that would infringe on the privacy of those she cares about. One particular, though, is that she very much does not want to talk about her scar. It’s perfectly understandable that she wouldn’t, and it’s also perfectly understandable that people are curious about it. She gets around this by addressing it almost immediately, giving an absolute barebones detail of the event and giving nothing more. She doesn’t necessarily avoid it as its referenced a few times throughout the book, but by not harping on it or giving it too much weight, she prevents making Bossypants a somber account of her life. This is very much a comedic book with serious elements to it, and by dealing with the elephant in the room immediately and briefly, we’re free to move on to the good stuff.

The best parts of this book, for me, are the behind the scenes of Saturday Night Live. I’m a sucker for these stories since I’ve been watching that show every week since I learned how to wake up in the middle of the night while my parents were sleeping and turn the TV on very quietly. The show has always famously had a reputation as a boy’s club, and there are some great stories in this book concerning that, and offering a different, less jaded, perspective. Since she is possibly the most successful woman to come out of SNL, Fey has a unique opportunity to tackle this issue and show how it’s not something that is set in stone. It’s not all about this issue though, there is plenty of fun to be had as well. She describes her audition process, table reads, and, of course, her run as Sarah Palin. Through her, we get to know Lorne Michaels and Amy Poehler to some degree, but in her effort to not have this book be seen as a tell-all, she keeps everyone else at arm’s length. Instead Fey keeps the focus perpetually on herself, this being her book and all that is understandable. This doesn’t come off as narcissistic, I don’t want to suggest that, but it does come off as a bit overly cautious at times.

I don’t think Fey is comfortable going very long without a laugh. As a comedy writer this makes a ton of sense, but it can also cheapen this book at times. Occasionally it gets a little too jokey when it’s not really called for. Don’t get me wrong, I’m not saying this book isn’t funny, because it is, but there are moments when it doesn’t feel that the material is being fully trusted, so a self-deprecating anecdote or observation is thrown in at the tail end of a rant, lest we think she’s one of those feminist types. Tina Fey is an extremely funny person, but also a good enough writer to not always have to fall back on humor. All I’m saying is, we already like you, Tina, don’t always try so hard to impress us.


Buy this book!

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One Night at the Comedy Store

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“Alright, I hope you guys are having a great time tonight. Next on stage is a very funny man, performed here a lot, Danny Cerullo.”
Okay, here we go. Grab my drink, no leave it. I’m not Dean Martin. That’s actually kind of funny, maybe I should use it some time.
“And Danny’s wearing an awesome Iron Maiden shirt tonight.”
Smile. She’s joking with me. I wonder if she’d bang me. Shit, I’m on stage, shaking her hand, think of something witty. I’m terrible at this off the cuff shit.
“I figured just in case my set didn’t repel all the ladies in the audience, then my shirt would.”
They’re laughing. That wasn’t bad, wasn’t great.
“Speaking of ladies, a doctor told me recently…” Doctor? What the fuck? Why would I say a doctor? Who in this audience is even going to believe I know a doctor, much less had a conversation with him? …”That lactating women can sometimes shoot milk out of their nipples during an orgasm.” Pause. Let them absorb it. “I call bullshit on that one. Girls can’t have orgasms.” God that joke’s easy. Still, it got a laugh. Good way to break the ice. It’s so dumb though. And seriously what the fuck was that part about talking to a doctor? What, am I trying to lend the stupid orgasm joke an air of credibility?
“Anyway, thanks for coming tonight. Like Amanda said, my name’s Danny.” Nobody cares, get to the funny. “And long before I became the awkward man you see before you tonight, I was an awkward child.” I really don’t need to emphasize awkward so much, they probably get that. “I used to play little league baseball. Anybody here play little league? Blatant pandering. I’m a sell out. “My dad was more into it than I was and I really wasn’t very good. When I got to high school, I clearly wasn’t good enough to make that team. Christ, this is dragging. The punch line isn’t even very funny. “So my dad just kept signing me up for little league.” Pause for laugh. Who am I kidding? “I tell you, I might not have been able to outhit the little shits, but I sure as hell could out drink ‘em.” Hand on forehead, look miserable. That’s not very hard. “God, there’s nothing worse than being struck out by a ten year old. Except when you cry when he hits you with the pitch.” Okay, my awkwardness has drawn them in. If I’m pitiful enough, I become endearing. Story time. “Little league wasn’t all bad though. I can remember walking up to the batters box. It’s a beautiful day outside, my team’s winning and the poetry of the game is in full swing. The sense of camaraderie is unlike anything I’ve ever experienced. I strike out, but it’s okay, who cares, everything’s perfect. I smile, turn around and head back to my dugout. I see my father standing behind the backstop. He says: Shout the line. Make it powerful. “Stop smiling you just struck out!” Ah, they’re laughing good now. Nothing like mean fathers for comedy. “I should point out that my father wasn’t hard on me because he thought with more effort I could be a great baseball player, or that it would build character and teach me valuable life lessons. He just didn’t love me.” God, I’m a bad son. My poor father works his ass off every day so I can have a decent childhood and I shit on the guy in front of a crowd of drunks. Oh well, it got a good laugh I guess. He’ll understand.
“I was reading an almanac the other day.” An almanac? I’ve never read a fucking Almanac in my life. I’m not really even sure what an Almanac is. “And I learned that sea otters are the only animals, other than humans, that can contract genital herpes. Which made me sad, you know?” Here comes the world’s easiest punch line. “I’m not fucking any more of those.” God that joke sucks. It’s seriously the stupidest joke ever written. Aaron wrote it though, and he’s dead so that makes me a good person for keeping his joke alive. Shit, I think Josh wrote it. If I’m up here telling jokes Josh wrote I need to rethink my entire life, much less my set.
Alright, here’s my big closer, don’t blow it. “Believe it or not, sometimes I get a little lonely.” Not sure if I should be happy or depressed at how big a laugh that got. “So the other day I called a phone sex line, which right off the bat is a terrible idea because I’m not much of a talker during sex. The worst part is, these girls always ask ‘What do you want me to do to you?’ And the thing is, maybe I’m just not imaginative or maybe I’m just vanilla, but I don’t need anything special. Whatever it is you normally do, I’m sure it will be fine. So then she asks me what I’m wearing.
‘Sweatpants and an old T-shirt,’ I say.
‘Ooh, did you just get done working out?’
‘No, I just woke up.’
‘It’s three o’clock in the afternoon.’
‘Yeah well, I had a long night.’
‘And what were you doing? Something hot, I bet.’
‘Totally. Hall and Oates reunion concert.’ I’m probably the only comic working right now that would drop a Hall and Oates reference in a joke. I might suck, but at least I’m original. “After a few minutes of extremely awkward phone sex, I think she just started to feel bad for me.” Much as you people seem to. “Because she started giving me life advice.” Now it’s time to dial it up. Breathe heavily, do my sexy-phone sex-girl voice. They’ll never see it coming from a guy like me. “Oh baby, maybe you should take that big old cock of yours and go back to college.” Now that’s a genuine laugh. I believe I even heard somebody shriek. “And maybe you can show what a big sexy man you are and stop blaming all your life’s problems on your mother.” That would probably be a lot funnier if I was Jewish. Every Jewish comic has serious mom issues. But hey, maybe they think I’m Jewish. Maybe I should change my name to Danny Cerulberg. “I started to feel really close to this woman. She told me that this wasn’t her real job, that she was really an actress. Me being an aspiring comedian, we shared a good laugh over the irony.” Here it comes, milk it. “And then I came all over myself.” Pause again. They’re loving it. They find my shame, loneliness and humiliation hilarious. I’m a genius! “The whole thing cost me eighty-seven dollars. Thank you, you’ve been a great audience.” Wave once, walk off stage. Shake Amanda’s hand on the way down. I hope somebody buys me a drink, I’m broke.