A Night at the Roxbury (1998)
Director: John Fortenberry Cast: Chris Kattan, Will Ferrell, Dan Hedaya, Molly Shannon, Richard Grieco, Loni Anderson, Elisa Donovan, Gigi Rice, Meredith Scott Lynn Screenplay: Will Ferrell, Amy Heckerling, Chris Kattan, Steve Koren Producers: Amy Heckerling, Lorne Michaels Runtime: 87 min. US Distribution: Paramount Rated PG-13: sex humor, language
By Nathaniel R. Atcheson (nate@pyramid.net)
When I was sixteen, I was driving a bunch of my friends around town, and it was way past my curfew. We were having a great time until I got pulled over by someone tailing me closely with his brights on. Stupidly, I stopped, and I saw someone get out of the car behind me. Suddenly, there was a large gentleman standing next to my open window. He asked, "You guys like skinheads?" and proceeded to punch me in the face, breaking my nose. He started pulling my friends out of the car, and I thought we were going to die. It is perhaps the most frightening thing I've ever endured.
And yet, this situation is much funnier than A Night at the Roxbury, which is a pathetic and limp excuse for a comedy. I'd rather get punched in the face by skinheads than ever sit through this film again, because, on top of being boring (there is *one* joke in this movie), it's really quite a pitiful experience. "Saturday Night Live" has never been a must-see show for me (I was born long after the original "classic" episodes with the original "funny" cast), but now I submit that an SNL skit is a worse choice for a film than a video game (both groups have their anomalies, which include Wayne's World and Mortal Kombat). A Night at the Roxbury is creatively defunct and lacking in the most crucial arena: comedy.
I did chuckle in the beginning, however, as director John Fortenberry introduces us to Steve and Doug Butabi (Chris Kattan and Will Ferrell). It's funny for a few seconds that they swing their heads in unison to music emanating from nowhere. It's sorta funny to watch them walk down the street and deliver crude pick-up lines to women who hate them. It's mildly amusing to see that they still live at home (in the same room), and work retail in their father's silk plant shop. But, you see, an SNL skit is usually about five minutes -- and that's normally four minutes too long. This film is apparently runs 87 minutes, and that means that 86 of those minutes are spent either 1) looking at the Butabi brothers swing their heads again, 2) listening to Dan Hedaya and Chazz Palminteri deliver awful lines, or 3) watching a pointless and insipid plot grind its gears and expire into a pathetic lump of screenwriting cliches.
The plot, should you give a flying rat's ass (I only use that line because it's put to such good use in the film), centers around our beloved brothers trying to get into the biggest club in town. You guessed it -- it's the Roxbury! You see, Richard Grieco gets them in (yes, Richard Grieco is in this movie, drowning in makeup and looking ultrasupercool). It turns out that the club's owner (played by an unbilled Palminteri) really likes the brothers, and wants to use their ideas with his next club. In addition, we have a subplot in which the a social climbing bimbo (Molly Shannon) wants to marry Steve, and so the brothers have a fight which leads to Doug moving into the guest house of their father's estate.
Like I said, the film is funny for about one minute. After that, you start to realize the original reason for this concept being a skit: it doesn't have depth, or characters, or anything that would make you want to sit in a theater for 87 minutes. A Night at the Roxbury serves best as a reminder that "Saturday Night Live" and its producer, Lorne Michaels (who is responsible for this film and many others) should stop wasting their money and ours.
I don't know how talented Kattan and Ferrell are, but neither is particularly loathsome here. I didn't hate watching them, but, as I said, it just gets boring. The two men also co-wrote the film, and I don't entirely blame them -- to stretch this concept from five to 87 minutes must have seemed like an impossible task. Apparently, it was. I doubt they had much choice in the matter, and the fact that they at least wrung one minute of laughter out of the refuse pile is . . . well, it's pretty sad.
The rest of the acting is either unfunny or just plain bad. In addition to Grieco (does anyone even remember "21 Jump Street?"), we have a cameo from Loni Anderson, who has no lines. Then there's Hedaya, who always acts the same; here, his sameness is intensely annoying. Palminteri is one of those actors I just don't like, so his "Did you grab my ass?" running joke is about as funny as the book of Revelation. Molly Shannon seems to have some spunk, but she mostly just comes across as a nuisance. Mixed in with all these performances is this God-awful story, which even takes itself seriously in one scene towards the end (when the Butabis make up).
There were a few other people at my screening of A Night at the Roxbury, and most of them laughed about as frequently as I did (however, the Token Laugher sat right behind me, which was kind of irritating). There are really funny movies out there -- funny movies with depth and insight. There are also funny films that don't aspire to anything, but keep the jokes coming so constantly that you don't really care. A Night at the Roxbury attempts no depth, and just isn't funny beyond its premise. If anyone ever tells me that they're planning on seeing this film, I'll suggest that they save themselves the trouble by finding some skinheads instead. And I won't be kidding.
* out of **** (2/10, D-)
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Nathaniel R. Atcheson
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