The Screengrab : danny mcbride

Trailer Review: Land of the Lost

Paul Clark — Mon, 27 Apr 2009 16:00:00 GMT

Last week, the Screengrab brain trust predicted that this big-screen remake of the cheeseball TV series would be summer’s biggest flops. Based on this trailer, it’s not hard to see why. Frankly, for a movie that allegedly cost more than $100 million to produce, this looks really cheap, with second-rate special effects like the T-Rex that menaces star Will Ferrell at the end. Yes, I know that the original series wasn’t exactly a paragon of cutting-edge technology, but if Universal and director Brad Silberling wanted to pay tribute to the Krofft brothers’ rinky-tink effects, they should have gone all out instead of simply turning it into cheap CGI. Plus there’s the presence of Ferrell, whose sense of quality control has never been all that great, trying to lend some marquee value to a movie that’s half camp, half nostalgia piece- never the most bankable of hybrids. Ferrell can be very funny given the chance, but here it looks like he’s just flailing around, reining it in to get the PG-13. Worse yet, Danny McBride barely says anything at all in the trailer, which is never a good sign. Everything about this trailer, down to the title font (which comes straight from the Fast and Furious tetralogy, attests to how shabby and cut-rate this movie will almost certainly be.

Screengrab Predicts: The Top 5 Bombs of Summer 2009 (Part Three)

Andrew Osborne — Thu, 23 Apr 2009 22:00:00 GMT

And now, the bombs...though, to be honest, with no Love Guru or Speed Racer in the running, this category (with one consensus exception) is a lot more of an open race for Summer 2009, with ties in the 4th and 5th place spots pretty much decided by coin-toss...well, it was a little more scientific than that, but not by much...

5. YEAR ONE (June 19)

Nick:
Barring The Flintstones suddenly becoming fashionable again, Harold Ramis’ caveman comedy starring Jack Black and Michael Cera will sink like a stone.

Scott:
Maybe this has one good weekend in it, but I’m not seeing a lot of staying power here. If you check your list of successful cavemen comedies, I think you’ll find it’s a bit shorter than you remember.

Andrew:
Oh, I dunno...I remember at least one really good gag in Ringo Starr’s Caveman, and I expect Year One to at least double that batting average...which might be just enough to get me into an air-conditioned theater on some muggy June afternoon. Not exactly a ringing endorsement, true...

4. IMAGINE THAT (June 12)

Scott:
Imagine what? Another toothless “family-friendly” Eddie Murphy comedy larded with sugary sweet life lessons? All too easy to imagine.

Paul:
Dear Eddie Murphy,

It’s been a decade since Bowfinger. Ever since then you’ve made lousy action comedies, lousy family comedies, and computer-animated comedies in which you provide the voice of a talking donkey. Pleasepleaseplease be funny again, both for your own sake and the sake of those who remember when you could still make people laugh. Thank you.

Sincerely,
The Screengrab

Andrew:
Okay, you guys convinced me...I kinda wish I’d put this on my own list of “bombs” now...but I put Transformers in its place on my list instead out of sheer malice.

3. X-MEN ORIGINS: WOLVERINE (May 1)

Nick:
Each X-Men film has made more than its predecessor, and this prequel cost more to make than any prior series entry. The Internet leak won’t affect its business, but Star Trek – opening one week after it – will, causing Wolverine to make less than X-Men: The Last Stand and thus be viewed as a modest failure.

Andrew:
For what it’s worth, I’ve seen and dug all the other X-Men flicks, and for some reason I could give a wet fart about this one, which looks to me like the bad Halle Berry Catwoman of the series. Now maybe if there were some musical numbers...

2. THE TAKING OF PELHAM 123 (June 12)

Nick:
With little action-thriller opposition around its June 12th release date, Tony Scott’s remake may open reasonably well. Yet given how blah it looks and how little buzz it’s attracting, it should quickly disappear from the nation’s overcrowded multiplexes.

Scott:
Speaking of ruining the ’70s (see below)...a gritty, grimy little New Yawk thriller with Walter Matthau at his hangdog finest is given the Tony Scott treatment. It looks as though puffy John Travolta and his wacky facial hair have already chewed some of the scenery, but expect him to devour the rest of it when this one hits theaters in June.

1. LAND OF THE LOST (June 5)

Scott:
I have an idea. Let’s completely ruin the ’70s for those of us who spent our childhoods there! Oh wait, we’ve already done that, haven’t we? Then what the hell, we might as well turn a quirky, beloved Saturday morning staple into another crappy Will Ferrell comedy with plenty of dopey sight gags and gobs of CGI effects.

Nick:
Will Ferrell and Danny McBride are inspired comedians, but Brad Silberling’s update of the 1970s TV show seems like the latest action-comedy hybrid destined to be neither exciting nor amusing. Expect a big-time bomb.

Paul:
Who is this movie for, exactly? Will Ferrell isn’t the box-office juggernaut he once was, and the ticket buyers who yearn for him to deliver Ron Burgundy-style laughs probably won’t go for the second-rate Jurassic Park-style dinosaur storyline. Meanwhile, the kids will probably be too busy watching Up and Night at the Museum 2 to care about this one. Does the original series have that many fans clamoring for a big-budget version of the story? I highly doubt it.

Andrew:
I have to say I actually feel bad about Land of the Lost winding up as our runaway number one consensus pick for top bomb of the summer, since I’m a fan of the original TV series and I have every intention of going to see the Will Ferrell version...and yet, my colleagues all make excellent points, plus the promotional stuff has a distinctly low-rent, Brendan Fraseresque feel to it...on the other hand, I wouldn’t be completely surprised if this one bites us on the ass, prediction-wise, and turns into a surprise hit...oh, wait, the budget was $100 million? Uh...never mind.

Click Here For The Hits (Parts One & Two), The Toss-Ups (Part Four) and The Honorable Mentions (Parts Five & Six)

Contributors: Andrew Osborne, Nick Schager, Scott Von Doviak, Paul Clark

Screengrab Review: "Observe and Report"

Phil Nugent — Fri, 10 Apr 2009 20:00:00 GMT

As soon as I learned that Scott "Mr. Unwatchables" Von Doviak had gone out of his way to avoid seeing the writer-director Jody Hill's new comedy Observe and Report, I knew that I would move hell and high water of necessary to get an early gawk at it. I can't chalk this up entirely to morbid curiosity. I enjoyed Hill's first film, The Foot Fist Way, a raggedly low-budget indie comedy starring Danny McBride as a malfunctioning martial arts instructor, and I loved Eastbound & Down, a six-episode HBO series that Hill co-created with Ben Best and McBride, who played a broken-down wreck of a burnt out professional baseball player. Observe and Report stars Seth Rogen as Ronnie Barnhardt, a shopping mall rent-a-cop who could be Paul Blart's evil twin. An overgrown pudgy ball of unfocused adolescent rage, Ronnie sees his chance for redemption in the quest to apprehend a flasher who's been bothering people in the parking lot; the movie, which tends to wear its conceptual ideas on its sleeve, makes it clear that the flasher is Ronnie's doppelganger, but instead of harassing people with his unclothed swinging dick, Ronnie has mace and a baton and is trying to find a way against the mall's prohibition against loaded firearms. This is Hill's entry into big-budget, major studio feature filmmaking, and he's clearly set on maintaining his signature edge: a satirical approach towards blustery, lower-class macho bullies and the corrupted cultural images of masculine heroism from which they take their cues, that flirts dangerously with condescension. Bringing that sort of thing off in the context of a big commercial comedy that has to make it past the preview audience test groups would be some trick, especially since Hill's direction tends to be pretty rudimentary beyond his way with actors and his ability to set up a joke. Observe and Report also suggests that it might be some trick pulling it off without Danny McBride in the lead.

Hill's protagonists are such jerks, long on delusional self-assurance and short of self-knowledge, that they seem unendurable right up to the point where they finally betray their fear and vulnerability, which makes them harder to shake off. (Will Ferrell gave Hill and company a leg up in the business by lending his name, as "presenter", to The Foot Fist Way and his presence to half the episodes of Eastbound & Down, and he may be attracted to Hill's work because he sees these characters as the evil twins of the easily hurt boy-child characters he often plays.) The final episode of Eastbound & Down ends with a variation on the end of Five Easy Pieces, except that when McBride's failed ball player drives off and leaves his girlfriend in the lurch, it's because he can't bear to tell her to his face that the spectacular future he's promised her--in exchange for her agreeing to upend her whole life for him--isn't going to happen. In moments like that, McBride's ability to suddenly seem incredibly charismatic and touching while still looking much like the guy having an impotent fit while standing in line behind you at the DMV really shines. Rogen's work here is game and deeply felt, but there are moments in the movie--especially in a bedroom scene with Anna Faris and the movie's ending-- where Hill tries to take the comedy to some next level of potentially jaw-dropping shock laughter, and every time one of them arrives, Rogen's performance hits a speed bump. Without a Danny McBride to finesse the really daring gags and tonal shifts, these scenes play as if the moviemakers were in denial about what they were doing.

They do know what they're doing, in theory: Hill has protected himself against charges of being a Neanderthal by telling interviewers that his taking-off point is Taxi Driver. (He's also protected himself by a shrewd strategic gambit: although the angry white male Ronnie is implicitly racist in his attitudes, he has a Latino second-in-command, played by Michael Pena, who he regards as a friend, and although he's been given incompetent Asian underlings to mock and an Arab-looking nemesis (played by Aziz Ansari, of the Human Giant troupe) who he addresses as "Saddam", the movie has been all but scrubbed clean of black people, the better to avoid the question of how Ronnie might feel about them. And when Ronnie is dropped off in a "bad neighborhood" to be threatened by crack dealers, damned if their leader isn't white. As a matter of fact, he's Danny McBride.) Some of the actors know what they're doing, too. As the cosmetics-counter blonde who Ronnie zeroes in on as his dream girl, Faris does her picture-saving thing, giving a gleefully malicious cariacture of a yowling, unfeeling bitch whose monstrousness can't be attributed to Ronnie's deranged P.O.V., since for most of the movie he views her as a treasure. (Hill is a lot more comfortable risking charges of misogyny than he is the appearance of racism.) Celia Weston is terrific as Ronnie's booze-soaked mother, who, when asked, confidently assures him that, yes, he is the reason his father deserted them; she and Rogen develop a sweetly dysfunctional rapport. And Michael Pena, whose roles in such pictures as World Trade Center and Lions for Lambs didn't give him much of a chance to show off his comedy chops, is a revelation as Ronnie's lisping, strutting sidekick, whose departure from the movie at the two-thirds mark leaves a gaping hole in the screen that never gets filled back in.

One reason that Pena is so effective here is that, for much of the picture, he keeps you guessing whether his character is really deranged or if he's executing a massive put-on, and you finally get your answer. Part of the problem with Observe and Report is that when it's over, you're left wondering if the moviemakers intended to leave some of its uglier implications unchallenged, or at least open to interpretation. There are scenes where you may assume that the movie has disappeared into Ronnie's self-glorifying fantasy life, and when we don't get the scene where he's forced to wake up, it's the filmmakers' grasp on reality that comes into question. This is especially true when Ronnie is confronted by a real physical threat and, against all odds, comes through as a hero, and it's even truer when, wielding disproportionate force against a minor irritant and behaves like a dangerous lunatic, only to be treated as if he were really heroic. On the whole, I found Observe and Report a lot funnier, and much better acted, than Burn After Reading, which was the last movie I saw whose core message seemed to be that the filmmakers must be really smart guys to come up with such idiotic characters and have them behave with such consistent stupidity. But at least that movie ended on a note that was true to its premises, whereas Hill sets Ronnie up as a born loser who can't see what's in front of him, only to betray everything he's set up in the final reel. If he didn't do this out of fear that the movie would bomb if he didn't end on a triumphant note, it's hard to imagine what else he could have had in mind. He still manages to avoid seeming to condescend to his characters. Condescending to the audience may be another story.

Trailer Review: Observe and Report (Red-Band)

Paul Clark — Wed, 04 Mar 2009 17:00:00 GMT

One of my biggest misgivings about last year’s The Foot Fist Way was that, although leading man Danny McBride was some kind of comic genius, he was surrounded by a bunch of amateurs, which caused the comedy to suffer. Thankfully, director Jody Hill appears to have recognized the need to use more than one funny person in a comedy, judging by the cast he’s assembled for his follow-up, Observe and Report. Like a certain hit from this January, Observe takes as its unlikely hero a schlubby mall security guard, but this is no Paul Blart, which made this online-only red-band trailer a good way to go in order to distinguish it from its more family-friendly cousin (here’s a link to the green-band trailer). Observe appears to follow the template of the contemporary R-rated comedy, but I enjoy a lot about this trailer, especially the sight of Seth Rogen playing something other than an intensely verbal, pop culture-savvy slacker. And after a string of self-important dramas like Crash, World Trade Center and Lions For Lambs, Michael Peña’s career could really use some comedy.

Five Films for a Super Bowl Hangover

Nick Schager — Mon, 02 Feb 2009 16:00:00 GMT

The big one is over. Steelers fans are euphoric. Cardinals fans are dejected. And both sets of sports fanatics (as well as legions of others) are spending today suffering through some serious postgame, post-booze illness. While the country's refusal to consider today a national holiday has forced most to trudge to work nursing one mother of a headache and/or upset stomach, those fortunate enough (or sick enough) to be home are likely in need of some medicine, and at The Screengrab, we aim to please. Herewith, five films that'll help soothe that Super Bowl morning-after malaise.

Anchorman: The Legend of Ron Burgundy

For a fuzzy psyche, nothing quite goes down as smoothly as some inspired idiocy, and few recent comedies have delivered the absurdist goods as hilariously as Will Ferrell’s ode to ‘70s sexism, bad hair and bear-fighting. “Milk was a bad choice!” says Ron; Anchorman is an ideal hangover balm, says I.

Overboard

There are few things to outright love about this 1987 Goldie Hawn-Kurt Russell comedy, but like a pop song that gets under your skin after the 800th spin, repeated childhood viewings (thanks, New York’s WPIX!) confirmed that this rich-meets-poor trifle is something akin to a cinematic lullaby. Turn it on, and turn yourself off.

The Last Boy Scout

Action-movie cacophony isn’t exactly what a pounding head demands, but Tony Scott’s 1991 gem is so over-the-top ludicrous that one’s laughter usually drowns out the gunfire and explosions. Written by Lethal Weapon scribe Shane Black in an apparent aim to include every genre cliché known to man, it’s like taking a goofy 2-hour class in ‘80s slam-bang cinema.

Point Break

One-upping even The Last Boy Scout, which came out the same year, Kathryn Bigelow’s saga about undercover feds, surfing gurus and president mask-donning bank robbers is the apex of over-the-top action cinema, both for its abject ridiculousness and the fact that said silliness doesn’t hinder the film from delivering thrilling, expertly orchestrated set pieces. It’s two hours your weary, alcohol-addled brain will thank you for.

The Foot Fist Way

A slightly sluggish mind is perfect for fully enjoying Danny McBride’s little seen off-kilter comedy from last year, in which McBride stars as a local Tae Kwon Do instructor whose lack of self-awareness is only matched by his failure at every facet of life. The film’s consistently strange vibe will amuse, and at 87 minutes, it’ll still leave plenty of time in the day for a well-earned recovery nap.

Reviews By Request: The Foot Fist Way (2006, Jody Hill)

Paul Clark — Fri, 16 Jan 2009 20:00:00 GMT

For the next three weeks, I’ll be reviewing three movies you requested in last week’s column. Polling for future Reviews By Request columns will begin again on January 30.

Over the past few decades, there has emerged in American popular culture something that can be called the “comedy of awkwardness.” In this style of comedy, which draws heavily from British humor, the comedy comes not merely from a character’s strange behavior, but also the discomfort their behavior causes. Often, in comedies of this sort, it’s the surrounding characters’ dumbfounded reactions that generate the most laughs. Comedy of awkwardness has become an integral part of some of the most popular and acclaimed sitcoms in this country like The Office and 30 Rock, and it’s begun making inroads into movies as well.

However, to successfully pull off the comedy of awkwardness, one must walk a thin line. To begin with, the character who generates the discomfort has to think he’s acting perfectly normally. If there’s any sense that this person is aware of how crazy he looks, the comedy is lost. In addition, the audience has to get a sense that the people who surround the crazy character acknowledge, if only to themselves, how strange his actions are. Jody Hill’s The Foot Fist Way gets only the first rule right, while ignoring the second altogether. So in spite of a fine and wholly committed performance by Danny McBride in the lead role, the film never takes off as comedy, coming off not so much funny as simply odd.

The Foot Fist Way focuses on the character of Fred Simmons (McBride), a boorish one-time tae kwon do champion-turned-small town instructor. Fred presides over his dojo with the authority of a drill sergeant, barking out orders and insisting that his students address him as “sir.” Meanwhile, Fred’s life begins to fall apart when he discovers that his wife cheated on him with the manager at her new job. Soon, Fred falls apart and becomes consumed with rage and grief, surely the last emotions one wants to see from a man who makes his living instructing people- children, even- how to fight. Fred discovers that his wife’s boss’ name is Mr. Fisher, and when he assumes that a student, also named Fisher, is the boss’ son, Fred decides to take out his rage on the boy, with predictable results.

But let’s look at that particular scene. A grown man beating the hell from a young boy is not inherently funny, but there are comic possibilities for such a scene if done right. Unfortunately, The Foot Fist Way doesn’t deliver. Hill shows McBride fighting the boy in long shot, but never takes the time to show us how the other characters in the scene feel about this. Just one well-timed reaction shot from a disbelieving onlooker could have salvaged some laughs, but that reaction shot never comes. The whole film is like that- plenty of promise, but very little end result. There are a few scenes that work, such as Fred’s misguided attempts to seduce a pretty female student or a weepy monologue in which he schools a young student in life’s harsh realities, but many more that don’t. By the time the story has become a mano a mano between Fred and karate movie superstar Chuck “The Truck” Wallace (played by the film’s co-writer, Ben Best), the movie’s comedic potential has long since been squandered.

It’s a shame, since McBride’s performance is really very good, in large part because he’s completely convincing in the role. I’ve never taken a martial arts class, but I can imagine that many of the instructors are more or less like Fred, attracted less to its traditions than to the power teaching gives them. Tae kwon do is rooted in self-discipline, but my guess is that most students sign up for martial arts so they can learn to fight, and when one is teaching people who are clearly weaker and less skilled, there can be a temptation to prove one’s superiority by cutting others down to size. In many ways, Fred is the flip side of Chiwetel Ejiofor’s character in David Mamet’s Redbelt, who is more of an old-school purist. Fred, on the other hand, enjoys being in control and doesn’t know any better way to go about it than by intimidating others, and McBride effortlessly projects the arrogance of a man who harbors no doubts whatsoever that he can kick your ass, while also showing occasional deference to those who are more powerful than he is. It makes perfect sense that when Fred’s wife tries to patch up their marriage, Fred insists on telling her, “I’m the stronger man, and you’re the weaker woman.” Although considering what a ringer she's already put him through, is he trying to convince her of this, or himself?

If nothing else, The Foot Fist Way should be remembered as that movie that introduced Hollywood to the brilliance of Danny McBride. McBride had previously appeared as the scene-stealing Bust-Ass in David Gordon Green’s All the Real Girls, but with this film, he quickly made fans of Will Ferrell and Judd Apatow, and has since been cast in such high-profile films as Pineapple Express, Tropic Thunder, and the upcoming big-screen version of Land of the Lost. But while McBride’s comic skills are undeniable, there are also moments in The Foot Fist Way that hint at darker undercurrents, leading me to think that he might become a fine character actor if given the chance. The Foot Fist Way isn’t much of a movie, but it announces McBride as a talent to watch.

2008 in Review: Paul Clark's Favorite Movie Moments

Paul Clark — Fri, 26 Dec 2008 20:00:00 GMT

Starting tomorrow, the writers of Screengrab will be unveiling their lists of the top 10 films of 2008. But before that begins, I’d like to post a different sort of list of highlights from the past year. For those of you who’ve only started reading recently, I used to write a bi-weekly column called “The Movie Moment,” in which I’d explore in depth some of my favorite scenes from movies both old and new. This past spring, I had to put the column on indefinite hiatus for various reasons, but I wanted to bring it back for this week only so I could celebrate some of my favorite Movie Moments of 2008. However, I had such a devil of time trying to narrow down my list that I’ve decided to simply list all of the moments that made me laugh out loud, cry like a baby, bite my nails uncontrollably, or which otherwise rocked my world this past year. This list is by no means meant to be taken as comprehensive, but merely were the moments which readily sprang to mind while I was writing the piece. So without further ado, I give you…

2008: The Year in Movie Moments:

(in no particular order)

The little boy’s confession notes- In Bruges

“No-no-no. I kill the bus driver.” - The Dark Knight

The security guard makes his rounds - Man on Wire

Sidney’s musical vows - Rachel Getting Married

The kiss that launched a thousand lens flares - Silent Light (only one of several transcendent moments in the film- the swimming-hole scene or the epic rainstorm might just as easily have qualified)

Mike’s late-night visit (or really, anytime Merle Haggard’s “Mama Tried” is played) - The Strangers

Peekaboo nudity - The Romance of Astrea and Celadon

Harry unveils the machine - Burn After Reading (honestly, who could possibly enjoy THAT?)

Madame Gaudens’ confession - A Girl Cut in Two

Incident at the race track - My Winnipeg

Most hilarious random line of the year: “When it comes to women, you’re Michael Jordan. I’m… Bill Laimbeer.” - Baghead

The new army suits up for battle - Role Models

Alex takes a shower - Paranoid Park

Brandi forgets her cell phone - Stuck

Black Kold Medina puts on a show - Trouble the Water

Runaway penguin - Encounters at the End of the World

Jung-rae Kim diagrams his neuroses - Woman on the Beach

Alex’s sex surprise, both inevitable and strangely erotic - XXY

The director’s big exit - Tropic Thunder

Most unlikely tearjerking moment of the year: Fred Knittle sings “Fix You”, Young@Heart

Three-way fist fight: Seth Rogen vs. James Franco vs. Danny McBride - Pineapple Express

The Richard McGuire segment - Fear(s) of the Dark

Ninjas! - In the Name of the King: A Dungeon Siege Tale (yes, really)

And finally, my five favorite openings and finales of the year:

Perfect openings: “Put on Your Sunday Clothes”, WALL*E; Sunrise, Silent Light; The piano, The Silence Before Bach; The Jean-Claude Van Damme Stunt Spectacular, JCVD; The Legend of Po, Kung Fu Panda

Great final scenes (no spoilers): Synecdoche, New York, The Duchess of Langeais, Shine a Light, The Visitor, Burn After Reading

I would invite all of you to share some of your favorites in the comments section. After all, I’m surely missing at least a couple of really good ones.

Morning Deal Report: Steve Carell is Despicable

Scott Von Doviak — Thu, 13 Nov 2008 15:30:00 GMT

Steve Carell will lend his pipes to Despicable Me, a CG animated feature that will co-star Jason Segel, Kristen Wiig and Danny McBride. “Carell's title character is a deplorable man known as Groo who masterminds the mother of all heists when he plots to steal the moon,” Variety reports. Before you get your hopes up, be aware that the movie will be written by Horton Hears a Who scribes Cinco Paul and Ken Daurio.

Michael Moore may look more like Santa Claus with each passing year, but he still brings little cheer. His latest documentary will focus on the global economic crisis, according to The Hollywood Reporter. “The untitled movie will contain an end-of-the-empire tone, say those familiar with the project, and Moore no doubt hopes that this will give it a more general feel that will untether it from a specific political moment.” Way to rain on our parade, Mike!

Believe it or not, people will still work with David O. Russell. Per Variety, the master of tantrums “is in talks to direct Matthew McConaughey in The Grackle, a raucous comedy for New Line… McConaughey will play a barroom fighter in New Orleans who hires himself out for $250 to settle disputes for people who can't afford to hire a lawyer. Harsh language and quick fists are his weapons of choice.” Hmm, I think I see the project’s appeal to Russell.

Related:
Sicko: A Medicare Lawyer's View
David O. Russell: People Person

Video of the Day: Drunk History

Leonard Pierce — Wed, 17 Sep 2008 15:30:00 GMT

Here is what Derek Waters' friends do: they get really, really drunk and make confused attempts to explain major events in U.S. history. Here is what Derek Waters does: he films it. Luckily for him, he also happens to know a few well-known actors, like Michael Cera, and he gets them to re-enact these blotto history lessons. And lucky for us, too, because the results are paralyzingly funny:

That's just the first edition, with Cera as Alexander (not George) Hamilton. Subsequent, and equally funny, editions have starred Jack Black as Ben Franklin and Danny McBride as George Washington. Collect 'em all!

Video of the Day: When Woody Met Billy

Face/Off: Judd Apatow and "Pineapple Express"

Phil Nugent — Fri, 29 Aug 2008 15:00:00 GMT

["Face/Off" is an irregularly scheduled recurring segment in which two Screengrab regulars have an exchange of views on some recent fixture of the movie scene. In the exclusive behind-the-scenes photo below, taken at a typical Screengrab "pitch" session, Andrew Osborne [l.] and Phil Nugent [r.] persuade their delighted editor to allow them to revive this much-loved feature.]

PHIL NUGENT: Andrew, I might as well come right out with it. I grew up as one of the most socially maladjusted members of our society: the comedy geek. So I feel a certain kinship with Judd Apatow. In some ways that do not include material success and worldly achievement, we're even kind of alike. We share the same birthday and have both had dirty thoughts about Leslie Mann. He actually got to marry her, so he may have gotten to act on some of his by now. And as a fan, I go back quite a ways with him. And I'm not talking about no Freaks and Geeks, neither! I'm talking The Ben Stiller Show, baby! It was on that series and the longer-lived The Larry Sanders Show, both of which appeared at a time when I was about to be greeted at my door by a mob wielding flaming torches who had dropped by to suggest that my presence might no longer be welcome at grad school and so was sorely in need of a few chuckles, that Apatow developed his chops as a producer and screenwriter and started making the lasting connections that continue to appear in his work. And last year, when Knocked Up made him an official Hollywood player and Superbad made him a name brand, I was happy for him. After all, for a long time, this was a guy who was best known for creating TV shows (also including Undeclared) that inspired devoted cult followings but couldn't stay on the air for more than a year, or (as with the case of Sick in the Head and the other Apatow pilots that became staples of the "Brilliant but Cancelled" phenomenon) couldn't get on the air at all. Although the Internet has given us a great many wonderful things, I still think that the single best use of it that anyone has ever made came when it was used to publicly disseminate the notorious e-mail exchange between Apatow and Mark Brazill, the small crawling thing best known as creator of That '70s Show, and who thought that, by including a mash-up parody of The Monkees with a stereotypical '90s grunge band on an episode of The Ben Stiller Show, Apatow had ripped off his hackish notion of doing a similar show as a "real" sitcom. It's still a hilarious exchange between a clueless dolt with too much money and a genuine and humane wit (who, okay, probably also already had too much money). But I remember when part of the context of the whole thing was a world in which the dolt was seen as more successful. Not anymore.

Apatow has out his name on a lot of stuff since then, and some of it has been, well, a lot less successful than his best stuff. Pineapple Express was preceded into theaters by Step Brothers, which mostly serves as an announcement that it's time for John C. Reilly to, (A.) put some clothes on, (B.) get back to straight acting roles for a while, and (C.) put some clothes on! Last fall, Reilly was unable to hold together Walk Hard, which tried its damndest to sustain the parodic-skit nature of The Ben Stiller Show for the length of a feature film. One of the most discouraging things about Pineapple Express is that it reminded me of that e-mail exchange, but this time, it's Apatow playing the Mark Brazill role. The idea--and it's what we used to call real "high concept" back before someone decided that it would be the honorable thing to bury that phrase with Don Simpson--is a conventional action comedy with conventional L.A. locations and conventional gunplay and chases and explosive fireballs and shit, but with these stoned doofuses at the center. The movie works best when it suggests pure parody: when Seth Rogan and James Franco stay up late babbling about the plan they're going to implement the next morning, and wind up oversleeping by ten hours, and when they then walk off to begin the busy work of saving their asses, only to get distracted by playing leapfrog and trying to get a caterpillar high. (This lyrical interlude may be the only part of the movie that's as fully charming as the movie's trailer, which made phenomenal use of M.I.A.'s "Paper Planes", and which was edited in a way that suggested more visual freshness than you get from the film itself. I am of course familiar with the standard criticisms that have been made of Apatow and the work he's been sponsoring as a producer: that he's running a boys' club, that it's politically tone dead and too insular by half, that John C. Reilly really fucking needs to put some clothes on!! But this is the first thing of his that I've seen that strikes me as struggling to meet the conventional halfway, to just take some of his and his performers' quirkier interests and skills--which here basically just comes down to stoner antics--and trying to shoehorn them into a tired action-comedy formula that neither he nor the hired-gun director, David Gordon Green, could care less about even executing with any degree of skill. Yet you, my man, have gone on record as liking this thing! In the name of Cheech and Chong--have you heard they're threatening a comeback movie, which may be something else I'll decide to blame on Judd when I catch my breath--why, sir, why!?

ANDREW OSBORNE: Since you started your critique with praise, I’ll start my defense of the Apatowniverse with my own critiques. For one thing, I thought Superbad was funny but wildly overpraised, and actually (more than Pineapple Express) a prime example of the strained, one-joke dangers of a too-limited thematic range. Jonah Hill’s Seth, Michael Cera’s Evan and, of course, Christopher Mintz-Plasse’s McLovin were all funny and charming, but sophomoric boys club humor without a corrective balance of mature XY and XX perspective eventually just feels like hanging out with sophomore boys (which got old pretty quick even when I was fifteen). A related criticism and possible symptom of Apatow’s more facile bent is his tendency to work with the same dudes over and over again while leaving his female actors (with the notable, understandable exception of Ms. Mann) out of the loop. Busy Phillips was just as funny and awesome as James Franco, Seth Rogen and Jason Segel on Freaks and Geeks, but she’s doing TV guest spots ever since while her former male co-stars are headlining one Apatow project after another. Ditto Sarah Hagan, Linda Cardellini (who’s got a steady gig on ER, but still...) not to mention poor Carla Gallo from Undeclared, who at least got cameos in later Apatow projects, although one of them (“Toe-Sucking Girl” in The 40-Year-Old Virgin) I don’t remember and the other (“Period Blood Girl” in Superbad) actually made me feel embarrassed for her. (And, really, would it have killed them to find a place for Knocked Up’s hilarious Charlyne Yi in Pineapple Express?)

I mean, there may be any number of perfectly good reasons why Apatow’s boys keep showing up in movie after movie while the girls fall by the wayside, but it does raise certain troubling questions (except maybe in the case of Katherine Heigl, who got a nice career boost with Knocked Up, only to later denounce the whole notion of a hot chick hooking up with an ugly guy as sexist before reaffirming her feminist street cred by starring opposite dreamy James Marsden in 27 Dresses as a strong, independent woman whose life revolves around fantasies of Prince Charming whisking her off to a perfect wedding).

Yet here’s why I defend the Apatowniverse in general: for one thing, it’s rare for anyone to be associated with even a single outstanding TV show or movie, let alone two of the greatest TV shows in the history of the medium (Larry Sanders, Freaks & Geeks) and a slew of smart, funny, eminently quotable and wildly popular comedies like The 40 Year Old Virgin that aren’t just funny but also have a distinctive personality and philosophy (as opposed to high-concept, anything-for-a-laugh joke factories like the Scary Movie franchise).

Even relative misfires like Walk Hard are fairly innocuous, with occasional classic moments (like Jack Black, Justin Long, Paul Rudd and Jason Schwartzman riffing as the Beatles, a scene I could have watched for hours). But it’s the egalitarian humanity of the Apatow brand I find most appealing (and most troubling when it’s missing): in his best work, there are no real villains or laughingstocks: everyone’s an asshole, everyone is foolish, everyone gets a moment of glory. The laughter is with, not at. Mintz-Plasse may be a pencil-neck geek, but he is McLovin, dammit. Mann may come across as shrewish in Knocked Up, but she’s also righteously, hilarious indignant and vulnerable by turns.

There’s much less empathetic character development in Pineapple Express, of course: Craig Robinson’s walk-on performance as a bouncer in Knocked Up was considerably more nuanced than his larger role as a drug dealer in Express, Gary Cole and Rosie Perez (both generally excellent) are essentially wasted as cardboard cartoon characters and the less said about the film’s regressive sub-Long Duk Dong Asian stereotypes the better.

But Apatow’s other strengths are on full display (and by Apatow, of course, I mean his influence on collaborators like director David Gordon Green and writer/star Rogen). Most importantly, the movie had me laughing the whole time, with nary a squirm of boredom or impatience. The action scenes may have been artless when compared to real action movies...but, first of all, Express is a parody and, to be honest, with all the CGI excesses of most 21st century action movies, it’s nice to reconnect with the simple old school pleasures of, say, a simple, straightforward car chase (especially one with distinctive but suspenseful just-this-side of realistic elements like James Franco’s panicky attempt to navigate a speeding vehicle with one foot stuck through a windshield he inadvisably attempted to kick out).

Another Apatow trademark is a certain respect for his audience: unlike any number of movies that cynically recycle tired clichés, situations and phrases (“You the man, dog!”) as if we’re too dumb or lazy to notice, Pineapple Express makes a concerted effort to be as entertaining as possible, surprising us and/or tweaking expectations whenever it can. Rogen’s character doesn’t just survive a near-miss gunshot: there’s also the ickily amusing aftermath. Conversations veer off in loopy, unpredictable directions. And did I also mention it’s just plain funny?

Sure, That ‘70s Show had funny moments despite its flaws, too, and Judd Apatow may be something of an asshole (like many if not all rich, successful people)...and indeed, I’m even willing to believe the humor and humanity of his projects may drop and his asshole quotient may rise the longer he swims with the sharks of Hollwood...but I think it’s still way too early to equate him with a genuine douch-nozzle like Mark Brazill (or at least Brazill’s evil e-mail alter ego)...so let the Apatow backlash backlash begin!

PHIL NUGENT: Your point about the way that Apatow has failed to demonstrate the same stubborn devotion to such female talent as Linda Cardellini and Carla Gallo that he's shown, say, Seth Rogen and James Franco, is well taken, so much so that I regret that I, in my role as the guy trying to start some shit here, didn't mention it myself. When it comes to some comedy writers, I don't feel like complaining about a boy's-club atmosphere because I sort of dread the results if they were to try to write about women, just because they felt they should. (I might think more highly of them as artists and as human beings if natural curiosity compelled them to experiment in that direction, but politically mandated inclusiveness is no friend of comedy.) In Apatow's case, though, there's plenty of evidence that there's a much broader side of himself that he hasn't been exploring. It happens to be the same side that didn't pay the bills for many years. There are many ways to fail in show business; with Freaks and Geeks, Apatow failed the My So-Called Life way, with Internet petitions and reruns on basic cable and reviewers decrying the stupidity of an industry that would just throw away this gem. That's got to be one of the nicer ways to go down, but at the end of the day, you're still someone who couldn't provide job security for all the people who'd turned down other offers to work with you. (Of course, many of the people who are now rich celebrities thanks to their association with Apatow will be quick to tell you that before they met him they couldn't get arrested, but still.)

Looking at the flurry of activity that Apatow has initiated in the last couple of years--including getting projects green-lighted that were based on scripts that had been waiting in the back drawer for some time--I get the impression that he's been trying to create work for his "family", paying them back for sticking with him through the rough times. (Superbad was written so long ago that Seth Rogan had orginally conceived the Jonah Hill role for himself.) In the process, he may be spreading himself, and not just himself, a little thin. You mention Craig Robinson, who in his scene with Leslie Mann outside the club in Knocked Up was able to create a surprisingly full character in one cussword-filled monologue. I expect that he was much happier when he got the script for Pineapple Express and saw that he had a lot more screen time in it, but it comes to so much less. Apatow still has moments of startling inspiration in deciding how best to use these performers; he reportedly made the call that Franco should play the role in Pineapple Express that Rogen had, again, written with himself in mind, and the result is easily the best work that Franco has done in movies, probably the best he's been since, yeah, Freaks and Geeks. And the movie makes terrific use of my man Danny McBride, who in less than three months--the period of time bracketed by the release of The Foot Fist Way and Tropic Thunder--has emerged as the new bad-hair king of Hollywood. (I have a hunch that if Ben Stiller had invited Apatow to the read-through of the Tropic Thunder screenplay, McBride would have walked out of the room with Jack Black's part.) But in his recent productions, there only seems to be two kinds of casting--the outrageously inspired and the by-the-book routine. The cast of Pineapple Express consists of a few people who are squarely in the zone and several talented performers who look as if they're in denial about this being the final draft of the script.

Almost everybody I know loved Knocked Up while confessing to having had "a problem" with it. My own biggest problem with it was a little different from the usual ones I've heard expressed, such as that it gave short shrift to abortion as an option, or that it was implausible that a woman who looked like Katherine Heigl could ever get drunk enough to fuck Seth Rogen. My problem was that, while I had no objection to Rogen's character growing up enough to take on his share of responsibility for raising the child, I didn't think they should have gotten married. I couldn't imagine that union turning out in any way that wouldn't be hellish. Not because Rogen wasn't conventionally attractive enough for Heigl, but because Heigl, unlike everyone else in Rogen's circle, and indeed unlike just about everyone else in the whole movie, her own sister and brother-in-law included, didn't seem to have a funny bone in her body. It says a lot about the cult of standardized beauty that a lot of people felt comfortable saying out loud that Rogen wasn't good-looking enough for her but that I heard very few people ask what the hell he was going to do to keep from dying of boredom after they'd been trapped together for awhile. The fact is, movie audiences have traditionally accepted romantic partners in comedies who looked physically mismatched, such as Woody Allen and Diane Keaton, if both of them were funny; that's the real soul partnership. Heigl herself must have belatedly realized this, since her offscreen complaining about the movie has largely come down to the fact that she didn't get any laughs in it, but based on how eagerly Apatow has jumped to the task to serve funny women when he had them to work with, I have to believe that he sized her up as nice, pretty packaging and choose not to tax her. (You want to see what it looks like when a gorgeous-looking performer who's also gifted and funny is wasted by filmmakers who just want to exploit those physical assets, look at James Franco in thr Spider-man movies.) Since Apatow isn't one of those jackasses (like Al Franken) who's on record as believing that women just aren't funny--he probably gets a reminder of just how funny they can be every time he pisses off his wife--the casting of the dull but handsomely assembled TV soap star as the "normal" one in Knocked Up must be his commercial side talking; it's the part of him that probably thinks that the mass audience won't accept a romantic comedy in which the woman can hold up her end in the quirky wise-cracking department. In Pineapple Express, the commercial side of him is the part that thinks that more people will turn out to watch two comedians doing a stoner routine if somebody is firing machine guns at them, and I think that this time, the commercial side clearly outbalances the quirky, personal side. Which is an ominous development, in my view. Because if Apatow doesn't get back in touch with the side of him that once cared less about audience share and more about making the best use possible of his talents, he's never going to get around to making the movie I really want to see from him: a romantic comedy in which the woman is every bit as funny, maybe as indifferent to conventional definitions of success, and maybe even as much a challenge to conventional standards of attractiveness as the man.

ANDREW OSBORNE: First of all, let me offer you a hearty cyber-handshake for providing the definitive closing argument in the case of Heigl vs. Rogen. It’s so absolutely dead-on, I’m sorry I didn’t think of it myself, but I intend to correct that mistake by taking credit for the idea in every single future argument I have with anyone, for the rest of my life, who bitches about the Rogen/Heigel pairing in Knocked Up. I myself refused to wed 'til I found myself a comical lass who could banter with the best of ‘em...and, frankly, I can’t imagine any better qualification for spousal consideration than a solid sense of humor (which Heigl's Alison Scott definitely lacked, though Rogen’s character, Ben Stone, at least wound up with some pretty cool in-laws)!

And, since you brought it up, I feel the April 2008 Vanity Fair article, “Who Says Women Aren't Funny?” more or less gave the definitive closing argument in the whole tiresome case of “Women Vs. Humor.” As Nora Ephron says in the piece, ““There is no question that there are a million more funny women than there used to be...but everything has more women. There are more women in a whole bunch of places, and this is one of them.” Sounds good to me, though I also agree with the sociological wisdom of a later quote from humorist and Harvard Lampoon alum Patricia Marx: ““Maybe pretty women weren't funny before because they had no reason to be funny. There was no point to it—people already liked you.”

So, there are funny women out there, and I’d like to see Apatow do a better job of utilizing them, because his best stuff isn’t the bad boy buzz of exploding cars and gunplay (however entertaining some of those moments may have been in Pineapple Express, though I thought the entire “crazy cops” subplot in Superbad was tedious)...no, Apatow’s gift is capturing modern day relationships with spot-on, up-to-the-minute clarity: Franco and Rogen hanging out in Express, Jonah Hill and Michael Cera hanging out in Superbad, Busy Phillips and Linda Cardellini hanging out in Freaks & Geeks, etc., etc.

And, while I agree I’d like to see Apatow do MORE comedies where the male and female relationships are evenly matched in terms of comedy chops, I wouldn’t say he’s NEVER delivered those particular goods. Steve Carell was a scream in The 40 Year Old Virgin, but Catherine Keener was certainly no slouch in the funny/unconventional department (and, in the supporting cast, Jane Lynch went toe-to-toe with Rogen, Paul Rudd and Romany Malco without breaking a sweat). And Forgetting Sarah Marshall, which Apatow produced for his boy Jason Segal, featured pretty funny turns from Kristen Bell and Mila Kunis (the dirtiest name in show biz).

Were Keener, Bell and Kunis as funny as their respective romantic comedy co-stars? Well, no, not quite: by way of comparison, my ultimate celebrity crush, Alyson Hannigan, was far more outrageous and funny playing off Jason Biggs in American Pie (a movie that would fit quite snugly into the Apatow-verse, come to think of it). And, yes, in the first American Pie, Hannigan wasn’t exactly a romantic lead, but rather a funny supporting player, like Lynch in Virgin, Leslie Mann and Charlyne Yi in Knocked Up and Amber Heard in Express.

So, okay, point taken: let’s get Apatow, Tina Fey and Paul Rudd together for a remake of Barefoot In The Park, stat!

But in the meantime, I’m not even close to giving up on Judd Apatow (yet), because, while some of his projects may fare better than others, he’s never really burned me as a viewer, meaning he’s built up quite a lot of credit in the ol' Bank of Osborne.

And I can’t really fault the man for trying a bunch of different genres (romantic comedy, action, parody, etc.) and using his newfound (and, given the nature of Hollywood , no doubt ephemeral) power to launch a bunch of projects (some good, some not as good, same as with any producer) that would never otherwise get made. Nor can I fault the man for possessing commercial self-preservation instincts...though it’s not like he’s Michael Bay, for God's sake, or even the aforementioned Nora Ephron, who gives good quote, yet also hacks up soulless Hollywood hairballs like Bewitched and Hanging Up with depressing regularity. (And, if you think about it, “stoner action comedy” isn’t exactly a sure thing/sell-out commercial genre anyway...even with all the blanks and explosions, Pineapple Express was still a personal movie, in that it directly reflected the distinct sensibility of Apatow and his collaborators.)

So, in conclusion, yes, I think Judd Apatow certainly has the capacity to go to the Dark Side – but aside from an executive producer credit on the odious Will Ferrell “comedy” Kicking and Screaming, I don't really see any evidence that he’ll be picking out a secret Sith name anytime soon. His upcoming projects (including a biblical comedy, a Sherlock Holmes comedy and a semi-dramatic film about stand-up comedians) seem to indicate a healthy willingness on his part to experiment. But, most importantly, Apatow's name on a movie poster usually means I’ll be entertained, either a little or a lot...and there are VERY few names in Hollywood that inspire that kind of brand loyalty these days.

As for Pineapple Express, which got this whole discussion rolling in the first place, my definitive closing argument is simple: "it brought the funny" (as the comedy geeks would say)...

...and for a fellow comedy geek like Apatow, that's pretty much the point.

--Contributors: Phil Nugent; Andrew Osborne

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Tom Cruise Still Creepy, Still Not Funny

Scott Von Doviak — Sun, 17 Aug 2008 00:00:00 GMT

Aside from the controversies over Robert Downey, Jr. in blackface and the use of the word "retard," the big pre-release buzz about Tropic Thunder had Tom Cruise revitalizing both his career and his public image with his hilarious turn as foul-mouthed studio mogul Les Grossman. That said buzz originated with Team Cruise has never been doubted by me, but the entertainment media has been only too happy to nudge it along. It's good for business, after all; everyone loves a redemption story, particularly one that humanizes what has been a cold, calculating persona for some time. Tom Cruise with a paunch and bald wig? He has no vanity! He's ready to let loose and have some fun! He really doesn't take himself so seriously after all. That's the narrative we've had rammed down our throats, but is there any truth to it? Let's find out after the jump, but be warned, minor Tropic Thunder spoilers may ensue.

So here's the deal: Cruise has maybe ten minutes of screen time as bald, bearded, bespectacled blowhard Grossman. Despite the prosthetics, which include huge hairy forearms as well as the chrome dome and pronounced (but not too pronounced) belly, Cruise does not exactly disappear into the role - he's recognizably Cruise all the way. The nose knows, and besides, he doesn't even do a voice. Conveniently, for him as well as the movie's marketing team, he gets to have it both ways. He's having fun and doing an "outrageous" character, but there's never a moment we feel like we're watching an outrageous character - it's clearly Tom Cruise Industries up there on the screen.

In fact, if I didn't know better, I'd think director, co-writer and co-star Ben Stiller was having a little fun at Cruise's expense. After all, right here in the same movie we have Robert Downey, Jr. as a pompous, self-absorbed genius actor who undergoes an experimental process to appear African-American in the movie-within-the-movie. (Of course, since Downey actually is a talented actor, he disappears into both the role of Australian thespian Kirk Lazarus and that of platoon sergeant Osirus.) And we also have Jack Black as a desperate comic actor who dons a variety of fakey prosthetics for his multiple roles in The Fatties, Fart 2.

The joke is on somebody here, but I don't think it's Cruise, since he's buddies with Stiller, who actually thinks Cruise is funny - or at least that's what he told Entertainment Weekly. Unless I'm forgetting something, the last time Cruise made me laugh since Risky Business was his Scientology recruitment video leaked onto YouTube earlier this year - and that was the sort of nervous laughter I usually reserve for Charles Manson interviews. By my count, Cruise is the 12th funniest person in the movie, behind Downey, Stiller, Black, Danny McBride, Steve Coogan, Brandon T. Jackson, Bill Hader, Jay Baruchel, Matthew McConaughey, a kid playing a Vietnamese heroin mule, and even Nick Nolte, not generally regarded as one of our foremost humorists.

Cruise dances in character over the end credits, and we are reminded of Hollywood's second most famous Scientologist, John Travolta, and how his career revival in Pulp Fiction included a dance scene that echoed fond memories of Grease and Saturday Night Fever. Here I guess we're supposed to flash back to Cruise dancing in his underwear in Risky Business and remember why we used to love him. Honestly, I was more creeped out than amused. How hard would it have been for Stiller to find an actual bald, hairy fat fuck for this role? Jon Polito would have killed, or James Gandolfini. I mean, wasn't that the point of the Downey character - that it's probably a good idea to hire an actual black actor than an Australian in blackface? Instead it's just the latest chapter in the Tom Cruise psychodrama - the extended version of jumping on Oprah's couch.

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Screengrab Review: Pineapple Express

Andrew Osborne — Sat, 09 Aug 2008 13:25:00 GMT

On my way to the Somerville Theater last night, my lovely Polish bride noticed my eyes were mysteriously bloodshot...the result, I’m guessing, of recent sleepless nights courtesy of freaky New England weather patterns and our passive-aggressive cat Zuzu's stubborn desire for round-the-clock feeding, and not (I’m hoping) an icky dose of Knocked Up-style pinkeye.

More to the point, however, my ocular vessels were NOT dilated as the result of any quasi-legal pre-screening cheeba inhalation. In fact, I’ve been more or less estranged from the kind bud for many years now (though, as with any number of past relationships gone south, I still have fond memories).

So, no, unlike the Cheech & Chong oeuvre, you don’t have to be stoned off your ass to appreciate the manic lunacy of Pineapple Express. Though I’m sure a little ganja couldn’t hurt, it’s hard to imagine squeezing even more enjoyment from a movie so fanatically determined to entertain its (admittedly self-selecting) demographic.

Given Hollywood’s penchant for lazy, paint-by-numbers filmmaking, this gleeful desire to have as much fun as possible with every frame of film has become the hallmark of the Apatow brand in recent years, even when comedy's reigning “It” Guy leaves the directing to someone else (in this case, David Gordon Green).

Admittedly, the arrested development "Frat Pack" sensibility of the Apatow imprimatur isn’t (and isn’t intended) for all audiences, and the latest Seth Rogen/Evan Goldberg-scripted bromance about two potheads on the run from a vengeful drug dealer occasionally strains too hard, but for the most part, the screaming, gun-toting, nut-kicking neo-Stooge action stays just light enough on its feet to be funny (and surprisingly exciting) rather than shrill and exhausting throughout most of Pineapple's muscular running time, thanks in large part to the engaging smart-dumb (or is that dumb-smart?) chemistry of co-stars James Franco (as a big-hearted, low wattage pot dealer) and Rogen, reprising his trademark cynical bear routine as a shady process server who accidentally witnesses a drugland murder, then spends the rest of the story in a hemp-fueled panic, doing just about everything in his power to make the situation even worse for himself.

The film essentially flies or fails based on the viewer’s desire to chill with its addled protagonists (and, to a lesser extent, Danny McBride, the newest pledge in the Apatow frat house, who seems likeable enough given what the sports radio crowd would refer to as an inconclusive sample size). And even Freaks & Geeks-loving Francophiles and Rogen enthusiasts may balk at the Tarantino-esque levels of slapstick violence on display, though for what it’s worth, my wife (a Stooge-hater from way back who usually balks at such things) seemed to enjoy every gunshot, smash-up and kitty litter face plant...so much so, in fact, we may actually go back and see the movie again just to catch all the stuff we laughed over the first time.

(And maybe the second time around we’ll even try it baked.)

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