GOATMILK: An intellectual playground edited by Wajahat Ali

THREE STARS ***

Introducing Alpa Chino’s Booty Sweat: A new energy drink.

Now, if you were to see a very well made, faux trailer promoting a cartoonish, hyper-sexualized rapper’s version of “Red Bull” known as “Booty Sweat” and you laugh, then this movie is for you. If this confounds you and leaves you flabbergasted with disgust and outrage, then please, for the love of God, go see Kit Kittredge. Ben Stiller’s new movie is an absurd, violent, gleefully politically incorrect and at times uproariously funny skewering of Hollywood, War movies and pretentious thespian egos.

The movie’s publicity has undoubtedly benefitted from recent protests by interest groups alleging the movie’s insensitivity and prejudice towards the mentally challenged. After seeing the movie, I assure you that these groups would benefit turning their attention elsewhere, since the movie derives laughs not from mental retardation or handicaps itself, but the absolutely inane and ill-conceived idea of a desperate, fading action star doing anything – yes, even playing a mentally challenged character – to win a coveted Oscar. Stiller, also co-writer and director, plays the familiar Stiller-shtick: a neurotic, dim witted, fading star whose insecurity and ego are tested by a more talented foil, in this case played hilariously by Robert Downey Jr. As Tugg Speedman, Stiller’s Stallone-esque action star decides to go “full retard” and star as “Simple Jack,” a man so dumb that he thinks he actually talks to animals. In Thunder, which ruthlessly parodies and satires the absurdities of Hollywood and the film industry, Simple Jack is so bad it is drubbed one of the “worst movies of all time,” forcing Stiller’s character to redeem himself by starring in a pompous, self congratulatory war movie.

The film centers around three protagonists: Stiller whose “Scorcher” action movies have gone to the “VI” numeral mark with subsequently declining revenue; Jack Black as a disturbed, manic, drug addicted comedian Jeff Portnoy, whose multiple roles in The Fatties and The Fatties: Fart 2 is clearly a spoof on Eddie Murphy and his Nutty Professor roles; and, finally, Robert Downey Jr. as five time Oscar winner, Kirk Lazarus, whose “Method” acting is so self absorbed and psychotic that he undergoes surgical pigmentation to play the role of an “African American” Sergeant.

The cast is rounded out by Brandon T. Jackson, a Lil Wayne-esque rapper trying to cross over into mainstream acting, Matthew McConaughey as Stiller’s sleazy Hollywood agent, Tom Cruise in a hilarious supporting role as an amoral, gluttonous and truly foul mouthed producer, Nick Nolte as…well Nick Nolte (you’ll see what I mean), and finally Danny McBride as the special effects pyro who scarred himself while working on Driving Miss Daisy.

The movie’s opening is, arguably, its strongest. Before the credits or even the logos, Stiller creates four very real and hilarious movie trailers, one for each actor’s latest movie, that parody gratuitous big budget action movies (Stiller’s Scorcher series), uninspired comedies relying on fart and poop jokes (Black’s The Fatties), pretentious, Oscar bait (Downey’s gay monk romance, Satan’s Alley), and of course a music video commercial for Alpa Chino’s Booty Sweat. The audience at San Diego’s Comic Con really dug these and the movie started off with a blast.

As the actors try to recreate their war movie, their “in over his head” director, played by Steve Coogan, already falls one month behind schedule after only the second day, forcing the heavily latex’d and filthy Tom Cruise, the film’s producer, to profanely and violently threaten and humiliate him via satellite in front of the entire crew. To gain “authenticity” and realism, the director abandons his crew, except for his leading actors, his technical consultant Nick Nolte, and the pyro Mcbride, and decides to rig a small, South East Asian island with multiple cameras, fake explosions and combat scenarios to immerse his actors in a natural setting. Unfortunately, the island is inhabited by a rebel commando army, and the director explodes – literally – after stepping on a land mine. Stiller and company – believing this was just a special effects stunt to scare them – proceed to enter the jungle with fake guns, oblivious to the fact they are being hunted by actual rebels.

The plot itself drags occasionally and the movie doesn’t sustain the big laughs consistently, nonetheless there is enough insanity and inspired characters, courtesy of Robert Downey Jr. and Tom Cruise that the movie never fails to entertain. Much publicity has surrounded Downey Jr’s “black face” but Stiller, who is rarely malicious in his comedy and mostly self deprecating and absurd, uses it as an opportunity to comment on those arrogant actors who truly believe, quite foolishly, they can play any role – even that of an African American. Kudos to Robert Downey Jr. who is firing on all cylinders this year especially after Iron Man for going full throttle and inhabiting the voice, mannerisms, walk, and appearance of blaxploitation action hero from the ‘70’s. Alpa Chino’s character, a real Black man, is there to constantly remind him and the audience that his actions are blatantly wrong and offensive. Jack Black is also refreshing in essentially a supporting role as selfish, drug addled actor trying desperately to score one last hit. His increasing remission fuels both his paranoia and obsession and yields some big laughs.

One wishes, however, Stiller would provide the Asian “bad guys” with some character and flair. Yet again, the Asian roles are cardboard stereotypes and are not invested with any comedic depth. Stiller, revisiting Zoolander territory, has an affinity for Asian caricature humor (Zoolander featured Indonesia’s Prime Minster as the assassination subject), but always fails to give them a memorable or distinct character – let’s hope this changes in the future.

Despite the rough patches, the movie allows Stiller to blow up stuff in a handsome fashion all the while lampooning the industry and his fellow actors, whose bloated ego and sycophantic “yes men” blind them to the inanities of their lifestyle choices and personalities. Oh and there’s Booty Sweat. How can one not laugh?