John Travolta, Tim Allen, Martin Lawrence, William H. Macy, Tichina Arnold, Jill Hennessy.
Directed by Walt Becker.
Screenplay by Brad Copeland
Lifelong friends run into mid-life crises ranging from low-level malaise to marital breakdown. They decide to embark on an adventure together, taking themselves out of their comfort zones in an effort to reclaim their youth or at least rediscover their spirit. Hilarity ensues, buddies bond, and the men emerge walking funny but with the realization they have a lot to live for.
If you're old enough to relate to this premise, it will likely remind you of City Slickers. The bad news: Wild Hogs is no City Slickers. The good news: While utterly lacking in subtlety, surprise, or nuance, Wild Hogs has some genuinely funny scenes, and a decent enough cast (particularly the reliable William H. Macy) to mostly distract its audience from its mediocre script.
Doug (Tim Allen) is a dentist with a spacious home and a loving, supportive wife (a woefully under-used Jill Hennessy). His only real problem: His tween-aged son doesn't think he's cool. Doug begins to examine his life (and spreading waistline) and wonders if he might need a little more adventure.
Bobby (Martin Lawrence) is a plumber whose yearlong writing sabbatical has just been brought to a forceful close by his overbearing wife (a woefully stereotyped Tachina Arnold). The complete lack of respect for him in his household, coupled with a catastrophic toilet-incident his first day back on the job, get him looking for a chance to reassert his manhood (or maybe just get out of town).
Dudley (William H. Macy) is a geeky computer programmer whose inability to talk to women has kept him a pining bachelor. He's ready to do something drastic�like get a tattoo of the Apple Computer logo on his right bicep, or maybe even get his shiny Harley dirty on the back roads of America.
Woody (John Travolta) is the friend who has it all together, except for the fact that his supermodel wife has left him and he's free falling over the edge of bankruptcy. Woody isn't ready to tell his friends about the left-turns his life is making, but he is ready to goad them into a motorcycle trip from their Cincinnati homes to the Pacific Ocean. Given that all four men live for their Saturday rides on their Harleys, Woody doesn't have a hard time convincing them that a road trip is just what they need.
Screenwriter Brad Copeland has until now been primarily a sitcom writer (My Name Is Earl, Arrested Development) which may explain the episodic feel of Wild Hogs. Once the guys hit the road, they ride from mishap to mishap with lulls not unlike commercial breaks in between. They throw away their cell phones. A gay cop (Scrubs' John C. McGinley) misunderstands the nature of their male bonding. They run out of gas and wish they still had their cell phones. They argue with each other over the correct disposal of human waste in the woods. And so on. Some of these episodes are laugh-out-loud funny, others are groan-out-loud lame. Either way, they just keep coming.
The second half of Wild Hogs centers on the heroes' run-in with the Del Fuegos, an easily angered New Mexico biker gang led by Cro-Magnum-esque Jack (an over-the-top Ray Liotta). The film finally hits on all cylinders during its final act, when a supremely well-choreographed conflict between the guys and the gang works by making the most of physical comedy and the least of dialogue. Add in a perfect cameo by a biker movie icon and a hilarious epilogue while the end credits roll, and you've got a strong to finish to an otherwise middling trip.
Wild Hogs is directed by Walt Becker, whose resume is dominated by the Van Wilder films, so perhaps it should come as no surprise that this movie is sporadically characterized by a National Lampoon-like vulgarity. The problem lies in the fact that Wild Hogs also tries, rather clumsily and with only the sketchiest character development in place, to operate at some deeper and more mature levels. Macy and Marisa Tomei make the most they can of their sweet but flimsy love story. But when Becker and Copeland want to explore any given character's angst, they bring the silliness to a screeching halt to have one actor say to another, "You look a little down." While the experience level of the cast saves the movie from disaster, it also hints at what could have been had the filmmakers developed a more even tone and a less lazy script. Wild Hogs ultimately can't live up to the promise of its premise and its participants.
Still, the movie is almost certainly guaranteed to make you laugh. In fact, at the screening I attended, there was more audible laughter in the theatre than I've heard in a long time. If you're patient, and you can overlook some sophomoric misfires in a movie that clearly should know better, the final 20 minutes of Wild Hogs will reward your endurance. It's a wildly uneven ride, but it finishes well.
Sure, the humour is broad and slap sticky, and many of the situations sophomoric and preposterous, but I still found myself smiling throughout �Wild Hogs.� It has a lot to do with the comedic talents of its four stars, from William H. Macy�s nerdy computer programmer, to Tim Allen�s uptight dentist, Martin Lawrence�s pussy-whipped husband and John Travolta�s egomaniacal millionaire. Even the premise about middle-aged friends travelling across the country on their motorcycles in order to rediscover their youth starts off promising enough but admittedly fizzles out during the middle section.
The opening sequences set up the background for our quartet. Doug (Allen) feels unappreciated by his teenage son, even though he has a wonderfully understanding wife (Jill Hennessy). Bobby (Lawrence) is stuck in a dead-end job and wants to write the ultimate how-to book, if only his overbearing wife (Tichina Arnold) will give him a moment�s rest. Dudley (Macy) is a bachelor and too terribly shy to approach a woman. It seems that Woody (Travolta) has the best life of them all, with a supermodel wife and a successful business. We soon learn, however, that he�s nearly bankrupt and that his wife left him � information he neglects to tell his friends when they meet during their weekly motorcycle gatherings. Instead, he convinces them to take a road trip to the Pacific Ocean a la �Easy Rider� in order to regain their �cojones.�
City boys roughing it up in the wild gets complex for these Hogs (Wild Hogs is the name they gave themselves), especially after they encounter a hilarious motorcycle cop (John C. McGinley) who mistakes them for a gay foursome. It seems the officer wants to join in on their shenanigans, which leads to some funny but decidedly stereotypical situations. Real trouble, however, occurs when the guys decide to stop at a bar run by a �real� biker gang called The Del Fuegos. Its leader, Jack (Ray Liotta), is so offended by these �weekend� road warriors that he not only bullies the foursome, but he takes one of their bikes. Unbeknownst to his friends, Woody goes back to the bar and not only retrieves the bike, but blows up the bar as well. This brings us to a small town where a showdown between the bad guys and our heroes takes place.
There are situations that are distasteful and vulgar, including the requisite toilet humour that seems to be de rigueur in male-bonding movies of late. But there are also some moments of sweetness, such as when Dudley begins to woo the town�s restaurant owner (Marisa Tomei). Most importantly, the chemistry between the four stars seems genuine and fun, making the proceedings entertaining and light-hearted.
�Wild Hogs� is what it is: no brains, but enough heart to make it worth checking out.
What these four Cincinnati dudes have in common is their age, friendship and tireless (no pun intended) devotion to one another around a bar table. And, oh yes, their rides of choice. That would be their hogs -- late model Harleys tuned to perfection -- the real bondo holding this midlife quartet together.
In recognition of their camaraderie, dentist Doug Madsen's (Tim Allen) good natured wife Kelly (Jill Hennessey) named the group and sewed their logo on black leather jackets: The Wild Hogs. Which is not enough to fill them with a sense of purpose or a breakout from the routines of life, but it's catchy and spices up a dream or two about living in the wind.
When just divorced wheeler-dealer Woody Stevens (John Travolta) learns that he's broke and his life as he knew it is all but torn apart, the group's sedentary boredom is about to change. Concealing his personal need for an escape to greener pastures, Woody proposes a road trip to his hog mates for the rush of freedom it would give them all. Though they shrug the idea off at first, it gains traction as they think about their domestic ruts and dissatisfactions. In the case of plumber Bobby Davis (Martin Lawrence) it's a getaway from the hastle of a shrewish wife; and computer screw-up Dudley Franks (William H. Macy) just wants to do something about his inability to relate to women.
The zany crew gases up and takes off for the Pacific.
On the way they encounter the "Del Fuegos," (transl.: from the fires) a bike club of sociopathic rowdies headed by Jack (Ray Liotta), a bully retard who sees these weekend types as decrepit posers unfit to travel "their" highway. After unfairly appropriating Dudley's hog, he and his group of ruffian crazies intimidate our foursome, scaring them into going back home.
But this just doesn't set well with Woody. Against the sane protests of his compatriots, he returns to the Del Fuegos' barn cum clubhouse, pulls the gas lines off their bikes so as to make it impossible for them to chase after him, and retrieves Dudley's ride, leaving a gas soaked parking lot behind.
Not long afterward, when Woody sees the explosion in his rear view mirror, he's the only one who realizes that the Wild Hogs are in a lot of trouble.
Missing the last chance to fill up, the Hogs find themselves pushing their machines through the charming town of Madrid (emphasis on 1st syllable) where Dudley sputters his way into love with restaurant owner Maggie (Marisa Tomei) while the crew waits for the gas station to open. For that short while they become part of the fabric of a small town's good life, enjoying the interlude for several minutes too long.
Amidst their climactic standoff with Jack and his gang of tyrannizing showboaters, there's a little surprise at the end which I can't, of course reveal here. All I'll say is that it's a convenient Deus Ex Machina, which Greek dramatists and scholars will know all about. If you need an explanation it's best we move on.
Writer Brad Copeland dreamed it up and director Walt Becker gave it gas. Not exactly high test, but enough comedic octane for four rad guys to tickle our pistons if we're not overly mature about it. It's about an eight on the family-tested shenanigan scale.
The previews for this film looked absolutely horrid. I was embarrassed for the major stars in the picture. Travolta, Allen, Lawrence are extremely talented, that said however, they�ve also lured me into a flop before. Still, William H. Macy in the mix did draw my interest and make me re-think, just for a second before I decided not to go. So, I didn't screen this film.
Soon after that, I heard that this silly little film broke Disney box office records for March. What? This little film? Then, my parents wanted to see it. Before I knew it I was in the theatre with my sister, her husband and our parents. And you know what? Heck if we didn't all have a good time.
The opening scenes are a bit dicey and the ending isn't really all that punchy -- but the in betweens keep the laughs rolling smoothly. It�s well paced with plenty of fun stuff and no slow moments. It's the closest thing to "City Slickers" since, well "City Slickers II" -- both of which are excellent comedies! (If you haven't seen 'em -- rent �em!) That said, Hogs is not as good as City Slickers. Let me just make that clear. Slickers works the funny bones and on a deeper level as well. Hogs is quite content with just being a silly fun, good time. And though the climax isn't as powerful as I would have liked -- Hogs hosts a very fun kicker during the credits that helps make up for it.
Almost a family film, Hogs is mostly clean, but does get mildly racy here and there.
Btw, not that this film accurately displays the ride, but it�s still a great thing to take a bike across the United States -- I did it coast to coast on a little 125. It�s a beautiful country with beautiful people.
Aimed squarely at the aging Baby Boomer market, Wild Hogs is an inconsequential comedy about a quartet of motorcycle-riding weekend warriors � John Travolta, William H. Macy, Tim Allen and Martin Lawrence � a far better cast than this wheezy-rider flick deserves.
After quickly establishing their milquetoast jobs and conventional Cincinnati lives, the movie sends them off on Harley-Davidsons � note the product placement � for a road trip aimed at reminding themselves they still have pulses.
If only the film did.
Ostensibly, their goal is to reach the West Coast, but they blunder onto a New Mexico biker bar. There a gang called Del Fuegos, headed by a nasty guy named Jack (Ray Liotta), sees through their suburban trappings and bullies them into a showdown.
The screenplay by Brad Copeland (Arrested Development) seems clueless about how to muster laughs, beyond a few anti-gay jokes that surely had the cast cringing. Director Walt Becker demonstrates none of the edge of his 2002 hit Van Wilder, not that it was any cinematic achievement.
Macy plays a bachelor nerd named Dudley and at least he � improbably � attracts Marisa Tomei, the owner-waitress of a diner that the Del Fuegos threaten to smash to smithereens. Naturally, he and his compadres have to prove themselves, before they can drive home and hang up their biker gear for good.
The mind reels at the inane sequels being readied if Wild Hogs brings home the bacon.
Wild Hogs � in which John Travolta, William H. Macy, Tim Allen, and Martin Lawrence play emasculated suburbanites taking a cross-country motorcycle trip to rediscover their masculinity � doesn't even sound like a real movie when you describe it to people. They give you that yer-shittin'-me stare, as though it were even possible to make up such a scenario outside of the office of The Player's Griffin Mill, who had to endure Buck Henry pitching him The Graduate 2. Then the disbelieving wonder if the actors � who also include Ray Liotta, Marisa Tomei, Tenacious D's Kyle Gass, American Choppers' Paul Teutul Sr. and Jr., and sex-talker Dr. Drew Pinsky � even shot their scenes together or were filmed on separate soundstages. The thing appears to have been cast by a random generator.
Wild Hogs imagines itself as an amalgam of St. Elmo's Fire, The Wild Bunch, and Deliverance � or so says smarmy, hammy Woody (Travolta), whose supermodel wife has left him bankrupt and homeless. It's Woody who persuades his pals to ditch their day jobs for a week on the road, traveling from Ohio to California in strip-mall-purchased leather pants and perfectly polished Harleys. He's the leader, for no other reason than that he's John Travolta � larger than life and getting a little bigger every day (evident during a scene in which all four men doff their togs for a skinny-dip that's anything but and everything butt). The other men, all desperately trying to find characters within their caricatures, are just along for the joyride, empty vehicles coasting in his wake. It's especially dispiriting to see Macy, as a shy computer-programming klutz, stumbling around in a movie that renders him little more than a buffoonish punch line.
Wild Hogs, written by a man who's done some Arrested Development episodes and directed by the guy who made Van Wilder, also fancies itself a sorta-sequel to Easy Rider; hence the last-scene cameo from one of that movie's stars, who shows up to apologize for the bad behavior of a biker gang that's lost sight of what it means to "be free." In that respect, Wild Hogs would have you believe that it's also a successor to Albert Brooks' Lost in America, in which an ad man ditches his comfortable, conformist existence to drop out and discover the countryside. But Brooks' film was a heartfelt send-up of the coddled yuppie who believes he was born to be wild. It was shot through with honest desperation, which made the jokes not only resonate but also redemptive. At least he knew he was being an ass. Wild Hogs cannot be bothered with context and care, with giving its protagonists something resembling soul and self-awareness. In fact, it comes off as surprisingly mean-spirited, down to every last we-ain't-gay joke.
Doug (Allen) is a successful dentist with a pretty wife (Crossing Jordan's Jill Hennessy) and a cute kid who doesn't think his old man's cool. Bobby (Lawrence) is a hen-pecked plumber up to his rubber booties in convenience-store bathroom shit. Dudley (Macy) is a nervous schlep who embarrasses himself by pouring coffee into his laptop when trying to pick up women. And Woody � well, about him we know nothing save for the fact that he's lost all his clients (what kind, we have no idea), his wife, and his home. We're also told that Doug and Woody have been friends since high school, though they often act less like old pals than absolute strangers who keep from each other the kinds of secrets best friends share over a cold beer and an open road. Male bonding? More like severance.
It would give too much credit to Wild Hogs to try to fathom its intentions. It doesn't deserve a trenchant discussion about the restlessness of the middle-aged man who believes rebellion can be purchased at a Harley-Davidson franchise or the deep-seated homophobia of Middle America. Maybe it was supposed to be about those things, but it wound up as nothing but a collection of lame and lazy jokes. The filmmakers can't even be bothered to let these guys find adventure, instead filling the empty miles with, at most, a campout that ends with a burned-down tent and a horny gay state trooper.
Only Macy comes out of this thing unscathed; at least he's not merely cashing the check, not simply mugging for the audience to wring giggles out of a bone-dry script. The movie does him no favors � he's thrown from his bike repeatedly, bound with duct tape and hung from a post, and humiliated a dozen different ways � but Macy, who can handle Mamet and maudlin with admirable aplomb, has guts and brains enough to stare down anything tossed at him, even when he's forced to do it bare-assed. That's more than you can say about the other guys, who look like they're just taking a cross-country trip to cash a check they haven't earned.
Well, this is an awful movie.
So why did I give it two stars?
Because, despite the fact that this script is driven entirely by a lowest-common-denominator approach to getting middle-aged men in the theaters, the movie has two single minutes that are simply brilliant.
This moment occurs toward the end of the film %u2013 during the last 10 minutes, in fact. It's a nod to people who respect the genre of real biker films, and it's one of the greatest cameos, ever.
That said, had that scene been left on the cutting-room floor, this film would have rated one star. If that.
Somewhere, a bunch of studio honchos sit around and think of what will get certain demographics in the theaters. They already know that PG-13 horror movies will bring in scads of teen-age girls who enjoy getting scared in groups and clinging to the arms of their boyfriends.
I can just see this group talking about what will get middle-aged men and their spouses into theaters.
First, you start with the stars who appeal to this demographic. So you write a script for Martin Lawrence, Tim Allen, John Travolta and William H. Macy.
Lawrence plays a hen-pecked husband, Allen plays a dentist who thinks he's become boring, Travolta is a guy who's going bankrupt and has broken up with a model, and Macy is a computer geek who is terrified of women.
Then you include items and brands that middle-aged men use and admire, and presto! You have a movie. Maybe not a very good one, but a movie nonetheless.
Back to the characters, who all have nice motorcycles, which they regularly ride to a bar (where they chat with Paul and Paulie Teutul, of "American Chopper" fame).
The buddies decide to take their bikes for a real ride so they can enjoy the freedom of the open road. Lawrence's character lies to his wife so she'll think he's attending a conference. Along the way, the focus of their trip seems to be on body functions and homophobia %u2013 none of these "jokes" are original or funny.
Naturally, they get crossways with a bunch of real bikers led by Ray Liotta.
There's a sense of meanness in this movie that I'm seeing more and more in comedies of late, and I despise it. Characters punch each other and ridicule each other for no reason other than cruelty. Adam Sandler's films are the major culprits of this form of "comedy," but this one is more mean-spirited than it needs to be.
Note to directors: When you use scenes involving a bull, ensure that all your clips include the same animal, or at least a similar animal. Watch as the animal's horn length changes back and forth during the same scene.