One star. Rated PG-13, for crude humor, cartoonish violence and brief profanity
By Derrick Bang
On the evening of October 4,
1997, the Charlotte, North Carolina, regional office of Loomis Fargo & Co.
lost $17.3 million during a slapdash scheme orchestrated by vault supervisor
David Scott Ghantt, his girlfriend Kelly Campbell, her friend Steve Chambers
and his wife, Michelle, and four other participants.
 |
| After David (Zach Galifianakis, foreground left) fills the getaway van with countless stacks of money, his confederates in crime — from left, Eric (Ross Kimball), Steve (Owen Wilson), Kelly (Kristen Wiig) and Runny (David Ratray) — stare at the haul in utter disbelief. Enduring this misbegotten comedy prompts an entirely different kind of disbelief. |
In early March of 1998, all eight
were arrested by the FBI, in large part because Steve and Michelle Chambers had
spent so much of the loot quite brazenly. Subsequent prison sentences ranged
from eight to 11 years, and the entire affair became known as the “hillbilly
heist,” because of the blindingly stupid behavior of almost everybody involved.
Now, close to two decades later,
what was the second-largest cash robbery on U.S. soil — at the time — has
“inspired” a new comedy by director Jared Hess, best known for overly broad
farces such as Napoleon Dynamite, Nacho Libre and an episode of the TV
series The Last Man on Earth. Not to
mention additional big-screen flops such as Gentlemen
Broncos and Don Verdean.
It’s further telling that the
scripting credits for this new film — which cite Chris Bowman, Hubbel Palmer
and Emily Spivey — make absolutely no mention of the 2002 book Heist: The $17 Million Loomis Fargo Theft,
written by Charlotte Observer investigative journalist Jeff Diamant. Why bother
sourcing the official record of what obviously was an incredulously juicy saga
to begin with, when hack film writers can deliver an inferior script instead?
Better still, why bother with the
script, when Hess willingly tolerates a free-wheeling shoot that feels as if 90
percent of the dialog was ad-libbed?
After all, isn’t that why one
hires comedic personalities such as Zach Galifianakis, Kristen Wiig, Owen
Wilson and Jason Sudeikis?
Ah, but here’s the rub: Not one of those stars is anywhere near as spontaneously
sharp, fast or funny as s/he seems to think. Every line in this film feels
stiff, forced and tin-eared; very few earn laughter. Worse yet, Hess holds his
camera far too long on each dialog exchange, exposing the noticeable pauses
that occur when actors haven’t yet figured out their next line.
Or, alternatively, can’t remember
a legitimately scripted riposte.
We also endure the usual
flatulence jokes and exposed butt cracks that pass for humor these days, along
with — the height of humor — a bout
of diarrhea in a swimming pool. Seems awfully easy to write moron comedy
movies.
To put it bluntly, Masterminds is a train wreck of near
epic proportions: a 94-minute slog that absolutely butchers what could, should
and would have been a great heist comedy in better, less narcissistic hands.
