8/1/15 (Part Two): Remember That One Time at Camp?

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A.D. Miles, Amy Poehler, Ben Weinstein, Bradley Cooper, camp counselors, Camp Firewood, Christopher Meloni, cinema, co-writers, comedies, coming of age, David Hyde Pierce, David Wain, Elizabeth Banks, ensemble cast, film reviews, films, Gideon Jacobs, H. Jon Benjamin, horny teenagers, inspired by '80s films, Janeane Garofalo, Joe Lo Truglio, Judah Friedlander, Ken Marino, Kevin Sussman, last day of camp, love triangle, Marguerite Moreau, Marisa Ryan, Michael Ian Black, Michael Showalter, Molly Shannon, Movies, musical numbers, Nina Hellman, one day, over-the-top, Paul Rudd, raunchy films, romances, set in 1980s, sex comedies, silly films, Skylab, summer camp, talent show, The State, Wet Hot American Summer, Whitney Vance, writer-director-actor, Zak Orth

How you approach, and ultimately enjoy, David Wain and Michael Showalter’s Wet Hot American Summer (2001) will probably depend on a few different variables: how you feel about ’80s teen sex comedies; how you feel about summer camp; how you feel about short-lived ’90s sketch-comedy troupe The State; how you feel about parodies of ’80s films, in general; and, perhaps most importantly, how you feel about silly movies. If any of the above set off the kind of drooling response that would put a smile on ol’ Pavlov’s face, the safe best is that you will, in all likelihood, absolutely love this giddy little ode to obliviously horny camp counselors, their perpetually hormone-ravaged young charges and the inherent insanity of Reagen-era America. If not…well…this is probably gonna be as much fun as getting hung from the flagpole by your tighty-whities. Let’s see which side of the line you end up on: fall in for roll call, campers!

It’s the last day of camp at Camp Firewood (August 18th, 1981, to be exact), which means exactly one thing: it’s also the last chance for everyone, counselor and camper alike, to have an exciting, life-changing summer romance. Good thing that hooking up happens to be everyone’s number one concern (the safety of youthful swimmers? Not so much.): there will be no shortage of star-crossed lovers, awkward triangles, odd pairings and horny virgins at this little summer soiree!

In short order, we’re introduced to a ridiculously diverse group of walking stereotypes and quirky characters, all of whom we’ll get to know much better over the course of the day/run-time. There’s Beth (Janeane Garofalo), the dour, “who gives a shit” camp director and Henry (David Hyde Pierce), the disgraced college professor (associate professor, to be exact) who has a summer home near the camp; counselors Andy (Paul Rudd), Coop (co-writer/creator Showalter) and Katie (Marguerite Moreau), who are involved in one of those aforementioned awkward love triangles and incredibly disturbed Vietnam vet/mess cook Gene (Christopher Meloni) and his put-upon assistant, Gary (A.D. Miles).

We also meet perpetually bawling arts-and-crafts instructor Gail (Molly Shannon), who’s constantly being counseled by her own pre-teen wards; walking hard-on/closet virgin Victor (Ken Merino) and his best friend, the impossibly geeky Neil (Joe Lo Truglio); Susie (Amy Poehler) and Ben (Bradley Cooper), the “perfect couple” who also serve as the camp’s directors/choreographers/entertainment personnel; voracious counselor Abby (Marisa Ryan), who pursues both peers and campers with equal aplomb; ditzy valley girl Lindsay (Elizabeth Banks) and McKinley (Michael Ian Black), the stylish guy who ends up capturing Ben’s eye. Don’t forget Steve (Kevin Sussman), the curious fellow who seems to think he’s a robot and ends up saving the entire camp by (literally) summoning rock ‘n roll salvation from the skies.

The film, itself, is merely an excuse for all of the above (and many, many more) to get into one hilarious, goofball, silly or outrageous situation after the next: romances are formed and broken (one character notes how they were “just friends” that morning but had already become “more” by noon, all on the way to falling out of love by the evening…not bad for one day!); friendships are tested; guys try (and often fail) to get the girl(s); Beth tries to keep the whole place running despite nearly constant stress (as if a raft full of kids in a dangerously turbulent river isn’t bad enough, Skylab is falling from space…right on top of their heads!); a can of vegetables speaks and sounds an awful lot like Mr. Archer himself, H. Jon Benjamin…you name it, it probably happens.

As befits a film that features quite a few sketch/improv comedians (out of eleven regular cast members from The State, six are featured here (Showalter, Wain, Merino, Truglio, Black and Kerri Kenney), while Shannon and Poehler got their starts on SNL), Wet Hot American Summer is a nearly nonstop barrage of gags, sexual innuendo, over-the-top characterizations and restless energy, all culminating in the kind of talent show set-piece that delivers as much as it promises (the Godspell bit, in particular, is priceless, especially when introduced by Poehler as “some people who suck dick”).

The point of the film, as with any comedic parody, is two-fold: poke fun at the original source – in this case, teen sex comedies like Meatballs (1979) and Porky’s (1982) – and entertain/amuse on its own merits. In both cases, Wain and Showalter acquit themselves much better than anyone might reasonably expect. As a 1980s parody, WHAS is spot-on, nailing not only the obvious mise-en-scene (plenty of butt-rock classics on the score, feathered hair and mullets, endless references to kitsch/catch-phrases/cultural ephemera) but also the themes, clichés and stereotypes that seemed to freely flow through many films (especially comedies) from that era. WHAS takes its ’80s-worship to pretty ridiculous heights (obviously) but that’s just what the material calls for (deserves?).

Even divorced from the ’80s parody aspects, WHAS is a complete blast from start to finish. Credit a clever script (the film is incredibly dumb but never stupid: there’s a huge difference) but don’t fail to give each and every member of the incredible ensemble cast their fair dues: to a tee, the group manage to build on each others’ performances, becoming something akin to the Voltron of silly comedies. It’s hard to pick out favorites here, although Merino is a constant delight as Victor (full disclosure: Merino has been one of my absolute favorite comedians for some time now) and Paul Rudd is impressively all-in as the temper tantrum-prone Andy. Garofalo does her patented combo of stressed-out/checked-out, while Shannon gets lots of great mileage out of the running gag involving her “road to recovery” via pre-teen psychotherapy.

Of an incredibly game cast, however, perhaps none are more so than Law & Order: SVU mainstay Meloni. Trading the brooding tough-guyisms of Elliot Stabler in for the ridiculously unhinged Gene is a nice move and one that would hint at Meloni’s post-SVU slide into sillier comedy versus gritty police procedural. There’s a night and day difference, here, and many of the film’s biggest, funniest scenes have Gene right at their wacko little hearts.

Perhaps due to my belief that the film was nothing more than a really dumb and cheap parody, I studiously avoided Wet Hot American Summer when it first appeared in 2001, even though I liked The State enough to catch the odd episode, here and there. This, of course, is why “assume” usually makes an ass of you and me: not only wasn’t WHAS the insipid, stupid film I assumed it was, it actually turned out to be one of the better, consistently funny and endearing comedies I’ve seen in several years.

In fact, I ended up liking the film so much that I eagerly plowed through the recently unveiled prequel TV series, Wet Hot American Summer: The First Day (2015), in what felt like one sitting. To my even greater surprise, the series actually manages to one-up the already impressive film, bringing back the majority of the cast (the first film’s unstated joke about 20-year-olds playing teens is even funnier when the cast is now nearly 15 years older and playing younger versions of themselves…the meta is strong with this one, indeed!), along with a raft of great newcomers including the likes of Michael Cera, Jason Schwartzman and several cast members from Mad Men. It adds nicely to the “mythos” established in the original film, while also serving to answer some questions and smooth over some particularly odd headscratchers (we learn the full story of H. Jon Benjamin’s talking veggies, for one thing, and it’s definitely worth the wait).

Ultimately, a comedy really only needs to answer one crucial question: is it funny? Wet Hot American Summer is many things (silly, loud, crude, nonsensical, esoteric, giddy) but, above and beyond all else, it’s definitely funny. Regardless of where your preferences lie on the comedy meter, I’m willing to wager that Wet Hot American Summer will have plenty of opportunities to tickle your funny-bone. As we’re solemnly told at the end of the film, “the entire summer, which kind of sucked, was rejuvenated by the events of the last 24 hours.” Sounds about right, campers…sounds just about right to me.

11/16/14 (Part One): Let Your Voice Be Heard

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Alexandra Holden, bad fathers, celebrity cameos, comedy, Demetri Martin, directorial debut, Don Lafontaine, ensemble cast, Eva Longoria, father-daughter relationships, feminism, Fred Melamed, Geena Davis, In a World..., independent films, indie comedies, infidelity, Jason O'Mara, Ken Marino, Lake Bell, Michaela Watkins, Nick Offerman, Rob Corddry, sexism, Stephanie Allynne, Talulah Riley, Tig Notaro, voice actors, voice coach, voice-over artists, writer-director-actor

Despite this being the tail-end of 2014, there are a lot of things that our species has yet to accomplish: we can send a message from one end of the world to the other in seconds, yet we still have masses of people who starve to death every day…we can send a probe into deep space, yet can’t figure out the basic need for racial equality…anyone, anywhere, now has the opportunity to have their personal thoughts, artwork, opinions and beliefs be seen by a world-wide audience, yet we manage to marginalize women nearly to the point of invisibility. Never before have we been so attuned to the small details, yet so completely ignorant of the big picture…so close to the finish line and yet so very, very far away.

In a World…(2013), the extraordinary feature-length directorial debut of indie writer/actor extraordinaire Lake Bell, probably won’t create any massive kind of sea-change in “the battle of the sexes,” which probably says more about our inherent resistance to common sense than anything else. It’s too bad, really, because In a World…is just the kind of film that could start a bigger dialogue, if given a wide enough audience. A hilarious, sharply written, character-driven comedy that makes its points in the most reasonable way possible and comes to the same conclusion that all of us should have long ago, In a World… politely explains just how fundamentally stupid sexism is and the unfortunate ways in which both men and women keep falling into the same old traps. The solution, as simple as it is, might just shock the world: why not try treating everyone like equals and see what happens?

Carol (Lake Bell) is a voice coach whose main job seems to be helping celebrities like Eva Longoria “not sound like a retarded pirate” for various projects. Voice-work comes naturally to Carol: her father, Sam (Fred Melamed), an impossibly egotistical, massively obnoxious voice-over “superstar,” is about to receive a lifetime achievement award after long being regarded as one of the luminaries in this particular entertainment niche, second only to the legendary Don Lafontaine. The spectre of Lafontaine, who made famous the titular “In a world…” film trailer line so famous, hangs over the cast of characters like a lead weight: he’s the pinnacle that they all aspire to, the ultimate source of envy for jerks like Sam and his protegé, the equally obnoxious Gustav (Ken Merino).

With a new epic film series on the horizon (The Amazon Games, obviously modeled after The Hunger Games), the series’ producers decide that they want an equally epic teaser trailer: for the first time in ages, they decide to use the iconic “In a world…” line and they’re going to need the perfect person to pull it off. Turns out that Carol thinks she’s that person but there’s a hitch: women are completely marginalized as far as cinematic voice-over work goes. Not only don’t any of Carol’s peers, such as Gustav, take her seriously but her own father even disparages her attempts to break into the industry, telling her to stick to her “lowly” voice coaching work. Frustrated, Carol decides to flip off the naysayers and auditions for the trailer…and handily scores the gig! Gustav is furious, unable to handle the news that he lost a plum gig to a woman (even though he doesn’t know it was Carol who “scooped” him) but Sam takes it one step further: he demands to be considered for the gig, even though his daughter has been all-but handed the job already. Since he still pulls weight in the industry, Sam forces the producers to audition the applicants, including Carol and Gustav.

The drama involving the voice-over work is contrasted with a subplot involving Carol’s sister, Dani (Michaela Watkins), her neebishy husband, Moe (Rob Corddry) and the hunky director of The Amazon Games, Terry (Jason O’Mara): they all get thrown into the soup after Carol enlists Dani’s help with some voice-over research (Terry has the dreamiest Irish brogue, dontcha know?) and Dani and Terry end up spending an undue amount of time together. Throw in a romantic triangle involving Carol, Gustav and Carol’s endlessly faithful agent, Louis (Demitri Martin), and you have a recipe for some practically Shakespearian machinations involving love, betrayal, acceptance and the importance of standing up for yourself, regardless of what others think.

As an actor, Lake Bell is known for quirky character performances in indie films like A Good Old Fashioned Orgy (2011) and Black Rock (2012), as well as roles in bigger-budget, mainstream fare like What Happens in Vegas (2008), It’s Complicated (2009) and No Strings Attached (2011). There’s an odd quality to Bell’s performances that marks her as a singularly unique performer: there always seems to be something slightly off about her, something distinctly “out of synch” with whatever she’s appearing in, similar to any of Andy Kaufmann’s various “legit” acting performances. Bell was also part of Rob Corddry’s exceptional Children’s Hospital series, which saw her sharing the small screen with In a World…co-stars Corddry, Ken Marino and Nick Offerman, making her directorial debut a bit of a Children’s Hospital reunion, in a way.

In a World…works on a number of levels: it’s an above-average comedy, thanks to a pretty unbeatable ensemble cast composed almost entirely of comedians (the cast-list reads like a virtual “who’s who” of modern comics); it’s a nicely realized examination of a particularly difficult father-daughter relationship, complete with the requisite “young stepmother” to provide equal comedy grist; it’s a fascinating look into the world of voice-over acting, a subset of the film industry that many casual audiences probably have as little experience with as possible; and last, but certainly not least, it’s a subtle and cutting look at the modern face of sexism and the glass ceilings that still manage to keep women down, despite any number of advances made since the “bad old days.” In a World…manages to be all these things at once, maintaining a delicate balancing act that marks Bell as a formidable talent: much more experienced filmmakers would have dropped at least half of these balls…Bell juggles them with an ease that’s almost supernatural.

One of the most impressive aspects of Lake’s debut is how it’s able to engage on so many levels without ever losing sight of the inherent absurdity of these situations. Carol is exasperated and frustrated by the sexism of her chosen profession but she never gives up or gives in to anger: she plows through, resolutely, determined to prove her worth in the most old-fashioned way possible…by kicking complete ass at the job. For a modern society that prizes innovators and “boot-strap-warriors,” Carol is a bit of a patron saint: she sees something that she wants, ignores the naysayers, busts her ass and goes for it. The whole sexist system is still in place, mind you: the film doesn’t engage in needless feel-good aphorisms any more than it traffics in “revenge fantasies,” ala Horrible Bosses (2011) and its ilk. Rather, Carol’s stubborn refusal to give in and her steadfast desire to be heard makes her something of an Arctic icebreaker, charges ahead despite the endless resistance and pushback she experiences.

Most impressively, In a World…marks Bell’s full-length writing debut: the script is so tight, full of such great dialogue and scenarios that it’s hard to believe she doesn’t have more full-lengths under her belt. I previously called In a World…”Shakespearian” and it’s a comparison I’ll stand by: there’s something about the intricate, brilliant interactions between the various characters that instantly reminiscent of the Bard. By the end, Bell has managed to tie the various threads together in some truly satisfying ways, right up to the fist-raising conclusion that shows how Carol keeps kicking in the door to the boys’ club, finding ways to help women fight the system and find their own voices.

In a World…is that most amazing of constructions, in the end, a “message” film that succeeds as pure entertainment without ever losing sight of the big picture. Bell has lots of things to say here and never hedges her bets but it’s also plainly clear that she wants us to have a good time: there’s no reason that we can’t dance at the revolution, as long as we remember why we’re there. When a film makes you laugh out loud and think, at the same time, well…that’s something pretty special, no two ways about it. Here’s to hoping that In a World…marks the beginning of a brilliant, long directorial career for Bell: the world still has a helluva long way to go but the darkness looks like it’s getting brighter all the time.

3/17/14: Belly Laughs and Bathroom Breaks

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abandonment issues, absentee father, Bad Milo!, bathroom humor, cinema, demons, Duncan, Erik Charles Nielsen, fear of fatherhood, fertility doctors, film reviews, films, Gillian Jacobs, horror-comedies, Jacob Vaughan, Ken Marino, kooky psychiatrist, Kumail Nanjiani, Mary Kay Place, Milo, Movies, Patrick Warburton, Peter Stormare, puppets, pushy mother, Stephen Root, Steve Carell, stomach problems, stress, Toby Huss

There are some film concepts that just sell themselves easier than others. Tell people that The Godfather is about mobsters and at least a few folks will be interested. Tell folks that The Texas Chain Saw Massacre is about cannibals and, dollars to doughnuts, someone’s gonna take the bait. It’s not necessarily that the world is full of mobster and cannibal lovers (although the continued success of these types of films says otherwise) but these are concepts that are fairly easy to wrap our collective heads around. Despite the actual content of these individual films, when we hear the words “mobster,” “cannibal” or “zombie,” we have a pretty good idea of what’s in store.

Once things become significantly higher (or lower) concept, however, preconceived notions become a bit more difficult to manage. If I were to tell you that The Dark Backward is about a stand-up comedian who grows a third arm out of his back, what would you say? Or that Septic Man is about a man who becomes a monster after falling into a sewer system? How about The Visitor, which can best be described as a low-budget sci-fi Western with angels, eagles, super children and John Huston? Sometimes, the basic idea behind a film can tell us almost nothing about the film, least of all whether we will actually like it or not. As Exhibit A in this notion, I present the recent horror-comedy Bad Milo, which bears a pretty simple premise: a nice, normal, average guy has a cute and cuddly demon that crawls out of his ass whenever he gets stressed and proceeds to massacre the (various) sources of said stress. At first blush, Bad Milo seems to be squarely in the Troma camp of over-the-top gore and gross bodily functions. Pass this one by, however, and you’ll be missing one of the sweetest, most unassuming and funniest films yet made about impending parenthood, absentee fathers and irritable bowel syndrome.

In short order, we’re introduced to our hero, Duncan (Ken Merino), one of those modern-day schlubs that Steve Carell specializes in. He’s got a shitty, passive-aggressive boss named Phil (Patrick Warburton), a baby-obsessed wife named Sarah and a constant yearning to know the father who abandoned him and his mother (Mary Kay Place) when Duncan was just a tot. Duncan, as with most modern folks, has got a lot on his plate, although his specific problems are all best suited to a broad big-screen comedy: his mother and her boyfriend Bobbi (Kumail Nanjiani) are perpetually horny, his fertility doctor (Toby Huss) is a crass jerk, his psychiatrist (Peter Stormare) is a loony and his new office is a bathroom, complete with urinal (one of the film’s numerous high points is the moment where Duncan’s imbecilic office-mate stares in wonder at their new “digs” and hopes that the urinal still works). With all of this going on, it’s no surprise that Duncan has quite a few health issues, not the least of which is his near crippling stomach ailments. For lack of a better (or more elegant) descriptor, Duncan has a particularly terrible form of IBS, leading him to spend hours in the bathroom and driving a bit of a wedge between him and Sarah: it’s a little hard to get romantic, after all, when your significant other is always on the can.

Duncan’s life becomes even more complicated, however, when his idiotic cubicle-mate Allistair accidentally deletes months of his work. Duncan experiences the worst pains of his life, blacks out and reawakens to the knowledge that Allistair has been shredded by a “raccoon.” Were it that simple, however. After a hypnotherapy session with his shrink Highsmith goes awry, Duncan is unceremoniously introduced to Milo, the demon who happens to live in his bowels. Milo is a cute little cuss, looking akin to a Muppet crossbred with one of the Ghoulies, and he takes a shine to his “father” Duncan. Only problem, of course, is that Milo has a tendency to “emerge” whenever Duncan is stressed…which is, apparently, all of the time. As Highsmith tries to help Duncan control Milo, other forces begin to emerge that will test Duncan’s new-found sense of zen: his boss has been draining the company dry, Sarah is still looking for a baby and Duncan’s long-gone father, Roger (Stephen Root), is reluctantly back in his life, with a secret of his own and a big piece to the puzzle that is Duncan’s life. Will Duncan be able to tame Milo? Can he forgive his father? Should he? How slimy will his boss get? And, most importantly, will he ever settle down and accept fatherhood?

Although Bad Milo’s concept is entirely predicated around bathroom humor and violence, the film is actually much sweeter and more wistful than this would imply. For one thing, Ken Merino is such a completely lovable puppy dog that you’re inclined to follow him anywhere, regardless of the absurd or disturbing situations: he’s an incredibly gifted comedian whose work in the TV shows Reaper, Party Down and Burning Love are practically  master-classes in making a doofus lovable. Bad Milo is completely and totally Merino’s film and wouldn’t be half as successful (or good) without his contributions. This isn’t to denigrate the quite capable supporting cast, however, which features a veritable who’s-who of character actors. We get Mary Kay Place, Patrick Warburton (always a favorite), Kumail Nanjiani (his infuriatingly condescending manner of speech is perfect for the character of Bobbi), Peter Stormare (as weirdly intense as ever) and Stephen Root. Root, in particular, is great in what amounts to yet another notch on a mighty impressive belt full of roles. Although he’ll always be Milton, Root’s resume looks particularly impressive by anyone’s standards.

Bad Milo focuses on several pretty deep issues, not the least of which are the abandonment issues that can fester late in life and affect one’s chances of raising a family. Without being fully aware, Duncan has been gravely damaged by his father’s absence and is taking these invisible wounds with him into his own developing family situation. He’s got a lot of love to give but it isn’t until he’s forced to serve as “father” to Milo that he’s able to focus this love unto anything besides his wife. He is his father’s son, after all, and there’s always the omnipresent fear that the apple doesn’t fall far from the tree. Manifesting these feelings of guilt, anger and disappointment as a physical entity may not be unique to this film (the nutso ’70s-era oddity The Manitou got there first) but Bad Milo manages the nifty hat-trick of being both thrilling and sentimental.

In reality, Bad Milo is the furthest thing possible from a Troma film, although there are various elements/scenes that would fit in nicely in any of Uncle Lloyd’s old “classics.” The gore effects aren’t particularly gratuitous but they are plenty juicy and do we get more than the recommended daily allowance of Milo returning to whence he came (if you get my drift). That being said, I’m really not sure what one could expect out of a film that could easily (if reductively) be described as “a man must learn to live with his ass demon.” Above all, Bad Milo is surprisingly and genuinely sweet. Duncan and Sarah have a quite lovely relationship, ass demons and parenthood issues notwithstanding. Duncan’s mom seems to genuinely love him and his friendship with his shrink, while hard-earned, becomes quite genuine by the film’s end. The reconciliation with his absentee father is also quite nice, helped in no small amount by an understated Root performance that reminds of Bruce Dern’s work in Nebraska.

As a comedy, Bad Milo also ends up being genuinely amusing. In particular, Warburton is perfect as Phil, the biggest dickhead to ever graduate management school. His constant degradation of Duncan approaches the level of sociopathic (the bathroom office is so perfect that I almost stopped the film after that point: why risk ruining it?) and good ol’ Patty is just the jerk for the job. In a similar vein, Toby Huss is quite good as Dr. Yeager, a “professional” whose bedside manner consists of telling Duncan that he has “a trooper in his pooper.” In order to make the central concept work, we’ve really gotta feel Duncan growing frustration and Warburton and Huss help make this happen.

Ultimately, Bad Milo is about something that we can all relate to, regardless of the relative health of our bowels or our personal lives: it’s about the need to be heard in a world where your voice is increasingly marginalized. At every possible opportunity, Duncan is over-ridden, over-shouted, over-turned and ignored. When he finally manages to find his voice, it doesn’t necessarily take the most productive form (ass demons rarely are) but it’s a voice, nonetheless. By refusing to be ignored and stomped on, Duncan gives the rest of us poor morons some sense of hope, no matter how faint. As the film makes explicitly clear, it’s always better to let things out than to keep them inside. We all have our own Milos: some good, some bad and some indifferent. Embrace yours today.