MADE Written and Directed by Jon Favreau With Vince Vaughn, Jon Favreau Jean Cocteau R 95 min.
In this appealingly off-center black comedy Vince Vaughn plays something very close to the perfect jerk. The gap between who Ricky is and who he thinks he is, between his self-confidence and his self-awareness, between his level of intelligence and his level of hubris, is blinding. And Vaughn handles the role with the sure-footedness and bursts of improvisational inspiration of a Kobe Bryant going coast-to-coast for a layup. It's a gutsy, antagonizing performance sewn with just enough seeds of endearment to keep it from ricocheting off the screen.
Still, it wouldn't work without the low-key finesse of costar Jon Favreau as Bobby, a down-to-earth plug who balances his buddy's spectacular asininity with his own plodding good sense. Favreau, who also wrote and directed Made, is a sort of latter-day William Bendix (of the ‘50s sitcom Life of Reilly.)
Vaughn and Favreau made an impact five years ago in Swingers, which was also written by Favreau. Here he doesn't try to extend the same characters, but they're clearly related. Bobby and Ricky are a pair of losers who scrabble at the fringes of society, finding different ways to fail at a number of low-end pursuits. They're boxers, laborers, petty criminals. Neither of them are too bright, but Bobby at least has a solid head on his solid shoulders. He's in love with Jess (Famke Janssen), a lap-dancer in the stable of a West Coast crime boss named Max (Peter Falk). He `drives' (bodyguards) her until his jealous, protective heart gets him canned by Max for decking a customer who gets out of line.
Max likes Bobby. When he has to fire him from one job, he offers him another – a trip to New York to deliver a package. Max doesn't like Ricky, who has managed to lose a van from his carpet-cleaning business, but he agrees to let Bobby take him along on the operation, which is first class all the way. Why a canny guy like Max would send two shmoes first class to New York and put them up in a ritzy hotel and give them a chauffeured limo and a hefty per diem in order to do a drop that could perfectly well be done by his efficient New York people, headed by Ruiz (Sean Combs), is a question best not examined too closely. It's simply a vehicle, in the tradition of the classic comedy team movies of Laurel and Hardy or Abbott and Costello, designed to get these mismatched louts, this Yin and Yang of ineptitude, into a set of situations where they can do their worst, and best.
The cleverness of Made is certainly not in the plotting. There's no `wow!' twist, no layers and levels peeled away for a socko revelation. This movie works in its dialogue, and in the rapport of its characters. Vaughn's performance is dazzling, an edgy, obnoxious tour-de-force that makes you wince while it makes you laugh. Favreau, from his director's and writer's seat, is content to cede the limelight to his buddy, and to let his own character provide a cautious touchstone that gives the audience a place to park its sympathies. Combs lends a savvy New York cool, and stares incredulously as Ricky tries to impress with his gangsta hipness; `Man, what is all this 21 Jump Street stuff?' he asks. Falk is wise and wizened, a made veteran who can shift from compassionate to threatening on a dime. The beautiful Famke Janssen doesn't get much to do outside of her lap-dancing, but little Mackenzie Vega as her daughter is adorable, and the rapport between her and Favreau provides one of the movie's satisfying emotional chords.
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