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06/06/03

1 hr. 35 mins.
Starring: Michael Douglas, Albert Brooks, Ryan Reynolds, Lindsay Sloane, Robin Tunney, Candice Bergen, David Suchet, Emmy Laybourne
Directed by: Andrew Fleming

Rating: * 1/2 stars (out of 4 stars)

Sure, the temptation always presents itself when comparing and contrasting an original film with that of its updated remake. Some will probably feel that this is a cheapened and unfair practice to measure a couple of completely different films although they may share the same thematic inspiration for existing. But if giddy filmmakers feel compelled enough to revisit a previous formula that worked marvelously the first time around only to exploit that predecessor’s success later on then it’s fair game for folks to judge the merits of the copycat film any way they see fit. Well, the opportunity knocks on the door here when contemplating director Andrew Fleming’s lackluster updated version of 2003’s The In-Laws with that of Arthur Hiller’s hilariously memorable 1979 offering by the same name. To put it in delicatessen terms, Hiller’s Peter Falk-Alan Arkin screwball comedy was a tasty and robust roast beef sandwich worth every delicious bite. As for Fleming’s Michael Douglas-Albert Brooks collaboration, this lukewarm lunacy barely meets the standard of a half-bitten stale bologna and cheese on rye.

Unfortunately for Fleming (1999’s Dick), the millennium-based madcap motivation behind his project The In-Laws seriously lacks the inspired off-the-wall energy and slapstick simplicity that was so wickedly wry and spontaneous in Hiller’s dandy neurotic narrative. There are several reasons why Fleming’s stilted and jumpy showcase doesn’t carry its weight in genuine wackiness. For starters, Hiller’s twenty-four year old gagfest featured the outrageous combination of a couple of comical Hollywood heavyweights in the form of durable and wily veterans Falk and Arkin. As gifted as Brooks and Douglas are in the ha-ha department, they couldn’t match Falk and Arkin’s comedic pace or timing even if they continuously sprayed seltzer water down their baggy pants. Secondly, the deadpan Arkin and the jittery Falk competently traded spunky and nonsensical verbal and physical exchanges courtesy of the infectious witty writing. The manic and bouncy dialogue (“Serpentine, Shelly, serpentine!”) definitely brought a dose of zaniness to the pithy proceedings. Despite the average production values and dry sense of delirium, Hiller’s action-comedy was relentlessly high-spirited, goofy, unpredictable, and just flat out funny in its defining off-the-cuff presentation. Whereas Hiller’s hoot-of-a-movie was refreshingly spontaneous and cheeky, Fleming’s stiff and manufactured dud is flashier in style and kinetic movement yet distinctively stillborn in terms of its needlessly schlocky and forced laughs. Let’s face it-there’s nothing entertainingly raucous or joyously snide about Fleming’s insufferable merging of these particular daffy In-Laws.

If Douglas and Brooks aren’t inadvertently ripping off “The Odd Couple Meets Marital Mayhem” then they are shamelessly mugging in front of the camera as potential conflicted fathers-in-law connected solely through the upcoming chaotic wedding ceremony of their soon-to-be hitched offspring. The premise loosely echoes the shenanigans in the 1979 edition where the quirky personalities of the lovebirds’ papas clash instantaneously amid the anxious preparation of their kids hopefully looking forward to exchanging their sacred wedding vows.

So who are the proud and panicky patriarchs? Well, there’s nervous Nellie podiatrist Jerry Peyser (Brooks) who’s going to be giving away his lovely daughter Melissa’s (Lindsay Sloane, Bring It On) hand in marriage to serious-minded Mark (Ryan Reynolds, National Lampoon’s Van Wilder). Mark’s father is Steve Tobias (Douglas), a cavalier cad who recklessly toils as an international spy for the CIA. With Jerry’s penchant for being a nebbish foot doctor and Steve’s rascal-minded CIA operative prancing all over the place, the proverbial stew is brewing for the warranted yucks to come loud and steady. Yeah, right!

Thus, as expected, the so-called kooky pairing of the tacky twosome takes its toll as the excitement rolls onward in predictable farcical fashion. When Jerry finds out what the unorthodox Steve does for a living, he stumbles into a covert operation involving the smuggling of megabucks pertaining to a shady arms dealer named Jean-Pierre Thibodoux (David Suchet). As if the pending wedding was nerve-racking enough, the entangling development regarding Steve’s hush-hush assignment and Jerry’s reluctant participation in this adventurous scuttlebutt becomes increasingly complicated in its topsy-turvy magnitude.

Arther Hiller’s 1979 edition of The In-Laws had the innate ability to make the chuckles come naturally with the flow of nutty-induced fodder it presented to the audience. The laughter was unassuming and understated based upon the gradual build up of the precarious protagonists’ predicament. However, Fleming sloppily pours on the overstuffed craziness by bluntly knocking us over the head with overdone violent chase scenes that have no meaning behind them or other action-oriented sequences that are profusely blustery but banal. The tame jokes quickly slide down uncomfortably much like raindrops bouncing off a retiree’s beer belly. When the film isn’t stocking up on the unconvincing banter mustered up by the mismatched teaming of Brooks and Douglas, it further dampens the moment by prying its humorous vibes out of sheer desperation with the lame visual gags. Hence, having Brooks’s Dr. Jerry emerge from a hot tub in a slinky thong is designed to get an immediate riotous reaction. But this is not challenging comical material here; it’s pure laziness on behalf of the filmmakers to create a silly-minded moment at any harried expense. And when Brooks and Douglas tumble from a high-rise building window or furiously race across the waves in a water scooter, the limping physical comedy displayed doesn’t even stack up to a random old Three Stooges rerun.

The In-Laws (the 2003 installment that is…) hastily outmaneuvers itself because it doesn’t have the confidence to settle down and let the inherent uproarious blueprint of its hilarity unfold naturally for the moviegoers to reasonably appreciate in stride. Instead, the streamline of arbitrary gay jokes is brought to the forefront. Plus, the over-abundance of action-packed vignettes being featured is more aimlessly rowdy than it is rambunctiously clever. It’s as if Fleming was so afraid that his flick wouldn’t go over well with a calm cohesive pulse so he had to jazz it up a notch by incorporating a series of high-wire happenings as a way to create a comedy surge to compensate for its otherwise anemic leanings. Overall, the movie stammers along and the excessive mockery feels more exhausting than it does stimulating to say the least.

Brooks, a previous Oscar-nominee for Broadcast News, simply demonstrates thin patchwork here as his trademark neuroses fails him considerably thanks to the baseless material he’s saddled with. As one of this generation’s funniest, innovative and insightful performers, Brooks is reduced to being a bone-headed bystander in a substandard action-oriented comedy-of-errors. Douglas seems notoriously out of his element as the carefree kook and indifferent danger man out to ruffle the nerves of his newfound cohort Brooks. When the script is smart and keenly cynical, Douglas can be effectively wry in the way he delivers his comedy chops (i.e. War of the Roses, Romancing the Stone, Wonder Boys, etc.). The bad news here is that Douglas’s obnoxious Steve Tobias is noticeably misplaced as the globetrotting adventurer of intrigue and mystery. Somehow the movie seems to struggle with its jubilant showing of parlaying Douglas as a lovable narcissistic boob. In truth, Douglas had more flexibility with his stint in the recently released wish-washy dysfunctional dramedy It Runs in the Family.

Interestingly enough, some of the lesser supporting characters outshine the befuddled leads. Specifically, Robin Tunney (Supernova) has a wonderful turn as novice spy gal Angela who is under the tutelage of her veteran partner Steve that she secretly adores personally and professionally. Both Reynolds and Sloane show no real spice as the bland honeybunnies. And Suchet’s villainous Thibodoux is the typical cartoonish over-the-top rival that’s a shoo-in to steal the scenery in a fruitless frenzied fable of this ilk. Candice Bergen makes an appearance as Steve’s glib and flustered ex-wife. Strangely, Bergen has been typecast as the colorful hard-nosed matriarch (as in 2002’s Sweet Home Alabama) yet the film never gives her anything to do beyond having the same significance and impact as the furniture props that sits there dutifully on the set.

Suffice to say, there’s nothing really “relative” about The In-Laws. This is a jumbled jaunt that gleefully flashes its hyperbolic hokum without regard to offering reflective characterizations or an involving storyline for that matter. It’s too bad that Hiller, Arkin and Falk couldn’t carry out a covert mission to rid the world of this reductive remake that threatens to stain the memory of their original frothy joyride of insanity.