Tampilkan postingan dengan label Greg Mottola. Tampilkan semua postingan
Tampilkan postingan dengan label Greg Mottola. Tampilkan semua postingan

Jumat, 18 Maret 2011

Paul

Use the phrase “the new Simon Pegg and Nick Frost comedy” and immediately you find yourself with an elephant in the room. Two of them, in fact. ‘Shaun of the Dead’ and ‘Hot Fuzz’. Both razor sharp and wickedly funny riffs on all-too-familiar genres (the zombie movie; the crime thriller) and not only send up their pop culture touchstones but vigorously revitalize them.

‘Paul’ could easily come off as the lesser sibling to these terrific, out-of-nowhere contemporary classics. Which is why it’s important, right from the off, to point out the crucial difference, as obvious as it may be: Edgar Wright has nothing to do with ‘Paul’. Unlike ‘Shaun’ and ‘Fuzz’, he’s not in the director’s chair. Unlike ‘Shaun’ and ‘Fuzz’, he didn’t co-write.

Instead, Pegg and Frost share the writer’s credit, while Greg Mottola calls the shots. I’m going to make the only ‘Shaun’-‘Fuzz’-‘Paul’ comparison of this article and make the observation that, on the evidence provided, it seems to be Edgar Wright who gives the earlier films their bite (and let’s face it, between the laughs, both ‘Shaun’ and ‘Fuzz’ have something of a mean streak). Take him out of the equation and the comedy is a tad gentler, more warm-hearted.

But with lots of swearing.

Seriously, ‘Paul’ is a wonderfully sweary movie. In particular, the line “Yo, fucknuts, it’s probing time” has automatically become one of my favourite movie quotes.

‘Paul’ starts out as a sort of anti-‘Spaced’, a love-letter to its protagonists’ nerdiness, rather than a send-up of their social ineptitude. Scenes of Clive Gollings (Frost) and Graeme Willy (Pegg) – respectively the writer and artist of a graphic novel involving an alien with three tits – noodling nerdily around Comic-Con and being mistaken for a gay couple at their hotel are wincingly unfunny and get things off to a decidedly shaky start.

Things pick up big time when they hit the road in a hired RV and head along Route 375, the so-called “Extraterrestrial Highway”. Another slice of nerd heaven for our boys, with stop-offs at the Little Ale’Inn (where they piss off a couple of rednecks) and the Black Mailbox (which they discover is white). They also discover a little grey individual, an otherworldly type with the ability to heal by touch and turn invisible while holding his breath. Named Paul – you’ll find out why in the opening sequence – and voiced by Seth Rogen, he’s a foul-mouthed, cynical, sarcastic alien with a penchant for dope, booze and hard partying. He’s the single best thing about the movie.

If, like me, you were starting to wonder if the Seth Rogen bubble was on the verge of bursting, then be jubilant. Acting with his vocal chords only, Rogen does his best work since ‘Superbad’. Funnily enough, like ‘Superbad’ (another ostensibly low-class but actually quite sweet comedy), ‘Paul’ is directed by Greg Mottola. He’s the film’s other great asset. Directing in an almost classical style (but allowing for chases, shoot-outs and a moment of utter wrongness where Paul’s admonition to “take your hands off my motherfucking junk” elicited the biggest laugh at the screening I attended), Mottola instinctly taps into the Spielbergian homages writ large in the script.

Mottola also brings back Rogen’s ‘Superbad’ alumnus Bill Hader as one half of a spectacularly incompetent pair of Feds out to catch Paul and haul him back to Area 51. Rounding out the cast are Jason Bateman as their considerably more proactive colleague Agent Zoil (the matter of his first name is one of the film’s more groan-worthy puns) and the excellent Kristen Wiig as Ruth, an optically-challenged Bible-basher. Her anti-creationism worldview blown apart by Paul’s existence, she makes a swift u-turn and decides to reinvent herself as a potty-mouthed bad girl. The results are priceless. Jeffery Tambor and Blythe Danner are memorable in small roles.

Narratively, there’s nothing particularly original going on, and Pegg and Frost’s characters aren’t quite as on-the-money as their ‘Shaun’ and ‘Fuzz’ personas (or even their ‘Spaced’ personas), but there’s no denying that ‘Paul’ provides 90-minutes of laugh-out-loud feel-good entertainment.

Senin, 30 Agustus 2010

Superbad

Posted as part of Operation 101010
Category: comedies / In category: 8 of 10 / Overall: 68 of 100


Pop quiz: how many high school comedies are (a) not shit, and (b) genuinely funny?

Personally, I’m counting three: ‘Heathers’, ‘Mean Girls’ (la Lohan in excelsis) and today’s offering, ‘Superbad’. Perhaps the best title thus far from the so-called “Apatow train” – and, ironically, the one Judd Apatow had least to do with (producer duties only, no hand in the script or direction) – this lewd and lowbrow opus is well-written, perfectly played and funny as fuck.

The set-up is as basic as can be and hardly needs rehashing, but for the benefit of the uninitiated: best friends Seth (Jonah Hill) and Evan (Michael Cera) are about to graduate and go to different colleges and neither are any close to scoring with their respective crushes Jules (Emma Stone) and Becca (Marsha MacIsaac). However, two events coincide – their mutual friend and wannabe bad boy Fogell (Christopher Mintz-Plasse) gets a fake ID and Jules throws a party but needs someone to score booze for the guests – setting Seth and Evan off on a series of misadventures and landing Fogell in the company of two off-the-rails cops (Seth Rogen and Bill Hader).

Scripted by Rogen and Evan Goldberg and directed by Greg Mottola, ‘Superbad’ starts as it means to go on with Seth engaging Evan in an intellectual conversation regarding the best value porn site to subscribe to. Seth favours ‘the Vagtastic Voyage’ while Evan warns that with parental scrutiny of the bill, a more innocuously named site would be safer (“How about ‘Perfect 10’ – that could be a bowling site”) before opining that he finds pornography bargain basement and devoid of production values. “Well, I’m sorry that the Coen Brothers don’t direct the kind of porn I watch,” Seth snaps back, “but they’re kind of in demand.”

Ypu, this is the kind of movie we’re talking about.

I mentioned that ‘Superbad’ is lewd. Throw in rude and crude just to round it off. Twenty minutes in, Seth is regaling Evan (and us, the audience) with the tale of his pre-pubescent humiliation. Said faux pas involves the obsessive doodling of the male member, the secretive doing so during in class, the stashing of said artworks in a ‘Ghostbusters’ lunchbox and the discovery of his little pastime “just I was a finishing up a big veiny triumphant bastard”. Material of this is ilk is not big and not clever. It is, however, funny as a canister full of laughing gas.

Still, Mottola exerts enough control over the material, though, that he never lets things descend into ‘Porky’s’ style vulgarity. The characters are human. The situations are played for comedy in an organic and unforced manner; even the more slapstick elements never feel forced or overplayed. By the end, he even manages to find a human centre to the characters, never mind their potty-mouths and obsession with sex.

Notwithstanding that I err towards some recently expressed views on Acidemic as regards Michael Cera, I find him less annoying here than in other movies. That he’s part of an ensemble cast, the comedic high points and iconic moments generously partitioned out between them, helps. Jonah Hill achieves a Cartman-like level of foul-mouthed grotesquerie in the early scenes, but unlike Cartman there’s a barely-concealed vulnerability in evidence. Rogen and Hader make one of the best double acts in recent film history as the cops who virtually adopt Fogell … or, as they know him from his patently fake ID, McLovin (“We just cockblocked McLovin” is surely destined to live as one of the all time great lines). Mintz-Plasse as Fogell/McLovin plays a one-note character, but plays that note with such virtuosity the effect is magnificent. MacIsaac gamely pulls off the one scene that truly pile-drives into comedy-of-embarrassment territory, and Emma Stone plays the straight guy (uh, gal) with immense likeability and impeccable timing.

At the risk of incurring Mrs Agitation’s wrath, I have a bit of a cinematic crush on Emma Stone.

Ahem. Moving on …

‘Superbad’ does nothing new narratively, but it hits all of its marks in fine style and navigates a tightrope between non-PC mind-in-the-gutter ballsy humour and good-natured feelgood entertainment with such carefree aplomb that it’s impossible not to get swept along. Here’s to booze, chicks, pictures of dicks and the dude McLovin!