2.5 stars. Rating: PG-13, for teen misbehavior, sexual content and plenty of implied raunch
By Derrick Bang
In a recent issue of Entertainment Weekly, Josh Schwartz, who
brought us television’s Gossip Girl
and The O.C., cited several
kid-friendly classics as inspiration for his big-screen directorial debut.
It’s an impressive list, ranging
from Adventures in Babysitting and Home Alone to The Goonies and Sixteen
Candles. Any director would be proud to land in their company.
Alas, that’s unlikely to happen
with Fun Size, thanks to the
bewildering and frequently distasteful level of raunch contained within Max
Werner’s screenplay.
Werner, a longtime writer for
TV’s The Colbert Report, seems to
have misplaced his target audience. Parents aren’t likely to appreciate exposing
their young children to this script’s sleazier elements — the PG-13 rating is
well earned — but, at the same time, the film certainly isn’t cheeky enough for
teens. In that respect, Fun Size is
neither fish nor fowl, and probably won’t please anybody.
Which is a shame, because the
core story’s heart is in the right place, and some of the elements in Werner’s
screenplay are quite funny. They’re simply overshadowed by sniggering sex jokes
that land like lead balloons.
Really, what were Paramount and
Nickelodeon thinking? Victoria Justice is well known as a wholesome presence on
the latter’s Zoey 101, iCarly and Victorious; dumping her into a storyline that tries to milk humor
from (for example) the image of a giant mechanical chicken humping a car —
don’t ask — seems the height of miscast folly.
Justice stars as Wren, a mildly
geeky teen hoping to enjoy an exciting Halloween with best friend April (Jane
Levy). With some luck, they might score an invite to the party hosted by hunky
Aaron Riley (Thomas McDonell): definitely the social event of the season.
Wren’s home life is a shambles,
thanks to a bratty younger brother who never talks — Jackson Nicoll, as Albert
— and a mother, Joy, who is trying to recapture her youth by dating a loser
half her age. Joy is played by Chelsea Handler, who’s definitely in search of a
smuttier movie. (Schwartz and Werner try to oblige.)
The family dysfunction results
from the recent death of Wren’s father. Albert’s self-imposed silence dates to
that tragedy, as does Joy’s loss of confidence. As a result, Wren frequently
winds up looking after Albert: a near-impossible task, given the little guy’s
determination to function as an ambulatory disaster zone.
Oh, and we’re introduced to
Albert as he sits, naked, on the pot. Charming image.
Wren’s Halloween plans are
shattered when she’s forced to take Albert trick-or-treating, so that Joy can
attend a party with her boy-toy. Naturally, Wren loses track of the kid, who
subsequently embarks on a series of adventures while his sister tries to find
him again.
The Adventures in Babysitting vibe emerges at this point, and at times
Werner hits the right notes.
Albert’s silence is a great
narrative gimmick, since it allows his new chance acquaintances to make
assumptions based on their own unresolved issues. The displaced little guy
immediately bonds with Fuzzy (Thomas Middleditch), a Quickie-Mart worker bee
still mooning over the girl who dumped him long ago; a plan for revenge is
hatched, which Albert seems to embrace. (Hard to tell, since he doesn’t say
anything.)
Wren and April, meanwhile, have
hooked up with geeks-to-the-core Roosevelt (Thomas Mann) and Peng (Osric Chau),
both wearing costumes so square that April — proud of her cleavage-baring “sexy
kitty” outfit — prays not to be seen by any of the cool kids. Roosevelt has
long been sweet on Wren; the question is whether she’ll notice, amid her
doe-eyes for Aaron Riley.
Joy, meanwhile, is having her own
problems at what looks like a frat party gone rancid.
And so it goes, as the night
progresses, with Wren and her friends somehow just missing Albert on several occasions, as various complications
further stir this tempestuous pot.
Justice nails her character’s
appealing blend of intelligence, sensitivity and goofy charm. Clearly, Wren
should be one of her school’s popular girls, but she probably sabotaged that
standing by raising her hand too many times in class, and by joining too many
extracurricular clubs.
Nicoll is adorable as Albert,
although it takes a few scenes to look beyond the kid’s acting-out antics, in
order to spot the sad little boy within. He has a wonderfully expressive face,
which is crucial, since his body language needs to convey a (real or imagined)
wealth of emotions.
Levy is just snarky enough as our
heroine’s much more daring best friend, and Mann is appropriately nerdy as the
shy but resolute guy who can’t find the courage to tell Wren how he feels about
her.
Chau isn’t well directed, and Peng
therefore winds up as little more than an ultra-dork thrown into the story
merely to look and sound stupid. Middleditch, similarly, can’t give a credible
line reading to save his life; the film grinds to a halt every time Fuzzy
unleashes another of his lame monologues.
Handler, as mentioned, belongs in
a different movie. So does Johnny Knoxville, whose late-entry appearance as a
candy-stealing scumbag builds to an uncomfortable subplot that also has no
business being in this story.
On the other hand, Riki Lindhome
makes the most of her brief appearance as the costumed Galaxy Scout, an
animé-inspired gal who becomes one of Albert’s new friends. And Kerri Kenney
and Ana Gasteyer are absolutely hilarious as Barb and Jackie, Roosevelt’s two
moms.
Indeed, the scenes with Roosevelt
and his mothers perfectly capture the gently satiric vibe that should have
characterized the entire film. Kenney and Gasteyer mercilessly send up the
overly holistic, Berkeley-style atmosphere that makes California such an easy
target for the rest of the country; Werner doesn’t miss an exaggerated note,
from Barb and Jackie’s multi-lingual fluency, to their vegan lifestyle.
Werner similarly understands how
to draw humor from the “calamities” guaranteed to humiliate teens trying to fit
in, such as when Wren, April, Roosevelt and Peng accidentally head their car
into the downtown “cool cruising zone” ... just as their broken radio spews an
opera aria, at full volume. Could anything
be more mortifying?
Such moments, when Schwartz and
Werner make things work, merely amplify the thudding misfires when the story strays
into smuttier territory. Fun Size —
which is a terrible title, just in passing — disappoints more than it delights;
I rather doubt it’ll grace anybody’s resume with pride.
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