Two stars. Rated R, for profanity, crude humor and fleeting nudity
By Derrick Bang
It’s pretty sad when the star of
a film is overwhelmed and out-funnied by her co-stars, and that’s definitely
the case with Snatched.
Amy Schumer is by far the weakest
link. Goldie Hawn, as her mother Linda, is funnier. Bashir Salahuddin, as a
desk-bound U.S. State Department clerk, is much funnier. Joan Cusack, as a
retired special ops agent, darn near steals the show ... and she doesn’t speak a word.
Mind you, Hawn, Salahuddin, Cusack
and a few others are tiny bits of spice in very thin gruel. It’s hard to
believe that Katie Dippold got paid for this miserable excuse for a script,
particularly since it sounds like Schumer ad-libbed all of her dialog (scarcely
an improvement). But, then, Dippold’s previous big-screen solo credit was
2013’s execrable The Heat, so clearly
we shouldn’t have expected better.
Dippold seems to have become the
go-to scripter for today’s two hottest foul-mouthed female comics, which makes
sense; in terms of their big-screen personas, Schumer is basically a smuttier
version of Melissa McCarthy (which is saying quite a lot). Schumer hasn’t yet
met a situation that she couldn’t debase with a vulgar reference to sexual or
bodily functions, and hey: If crude, tasteless potty humor is your cup of tea,
you’re bound to have a good time with this flick.
Not that it features much else
that could be considered entertainment value.
Schumer stars as Emily Middleton,
a useless semi-adult introduced as she’s dumped by her musician boyfriend.
Concerned less about her derailed love life and more about her two
non-refundable tickets to an Ecuadorian tourist trap, Emily rattles
unsuccessfully through her meager list of friends, and finally — as sloppy
sixths or sevenths — persuades her mother to come along.
Such a trip is far outside
Linda’s comfort zone, she being the type of stay-at-home, overly protective
single mother whose idea of excitement is a pottery class. But Emily prevails,
and the two unattached gals are off to paradise.
Which seems the case, at first
blush, when Emily is picked up by the handsome and breezily suave James (Tom
Bateman). They enjoy a swooningly romantic first date, despite warnings from
savvier fellow vacationers Ruth (Wanda Sykes) and Barb (Cusack), who insist
that suspiciously hunky guys aren’t to be trusted.
Nonsense, Emily scoffs,
particularly after James offers to take her and Linda on a road trip to
“explore the local culture.” Before the latter has a chance to say “I told you
so,” they’re kidnapped by a thoroughly nasty fellow named Morgado (Oscar
Jaenada), who intends to ransom them for $100,000.
At which point, director Jonathan
Levine loses whatever minor control he had of the film.
Jaenada doesn’t play Morgado for
laughs; he’s a genuinely dangerous thug who tosses Emily and Linda into a
grotty, scorpion-laden cell. This abrupt shift in tone seriously damages
subsequent efforts at larkish humor; as a result — we’re about halfway through
the 90-minute film, at this point — all the rest of Schumer’s earthy one-liners
fall flatter than her under-supported cleavage.
The truly funny bits come
elsewhere, notably when Emily’s agoraphobic brother Jeffrey (Ike Barinholtz) —
apprised of the situation when Morgado calls with the ransom demand — tries to
get help from the U.S. State Department, and winds up with the hilariously
unconcerned Morgan (Salahuddin).
Barinholtz isn’t the slightest
bit amusing; like Schumer, he tries too hard and delivers too little. They
should take lessons from Salahuddin, who underplays all his scenes with
straight-faced, by-the-book blandness, which makes Morgan the funniest take on unaccommodating
civil servants since the DMV sloth in last year’s Zootopia.
Emily and Linda, meanwhile,
manage an improbable escape; this allows a panicked phone call to Ruth and
Barb, who promise an unlikely rescue. Emily and Linda subsequently fall in and
out of Morgado’s clutches, allowing for a detour while they place their faith
in Roger (Christopher Meloni), an amateur explorer who vows to guide them
safely through the Amazonian jungle. (Filming actually took place in the
“jungles” of Oahu.)
Meloni’s presence is oddly
superfluous, his character never really coming to life; he just sorta vamps for
time, for about 10 minutes. That’s in keeping with much of this film, which is
filled with a lot of dead weight ... a pretty damning statement, when it’s so
short to begin with.
As often is the case with movies
that feature comics-turned-film stars — particularly when such projects are
helmed by weak-willed directors — a static camera frequently holds far too
long, while Schumer flails, flusters and fumbles her way through a line that
she obviously thinks is a laugh riot. Then everything pauses, as if to allow
spasms of side-splitting audience laughter; the only contrived element missing
is a rim shot from Chris Bacon and Theodore Shapiro’s lackluster score.
More than anything else, films
such as Snatched are sad: a sad waste
of (some) talent, and a sad waste of time (mostly ours). This one’s unheralded
arrival — post-Guardians 2, but
definitely pre-summer — suggests that 20th Century Fox also didn’t have much
faith.
Which is a rare display of common
sense from corporate Hollywood.
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