Identity Theft and The Heat (both 2013)

It’s awesome to see Melissa McCarthy becoming a box-office star. Here are two of her recent releases I just caught, nicely paired…

“Identity Theft” mashes neat freak and slob road-trip comedy “Planes, Trains, and Automobiles” to numbers geek meets vulgar conman “Producers,” and hopes for gold. We get copper. You can guess the roles McCarthy and co-star Jason Bateman each go for. Plot: Bateman’s mega-nerd has his identity stolen by a freakish woman (McCarthy) in Florida, leaving him poor, jailed, and near fired. At the suggestion of police –- nothing here is plausible –- he goes to extradite the woman back to Denver. Again, nonsense. So, bat shit crazy thief Diana (McCarthy) makes our hero’s life hell with boorishness, screaming fits, a sexual romp with a trucker, and more. Bateman’s Sandy -– yes, we girl’s name jokes -– implodes under the hellfire of crassness until … he comes to appreciate Diana for who she really is, a victim worth loving. Look, I laughed to hell many times, especially when McCarthy puts on a shunned wife act, but when the movie goes for big tears with a syrupy ending, I cringed. The film does not deserve it, nor does the audience. Why can’t Diane just stay crass? Also, the violent bounty hunters ... why? C+

“The Heat” pairs her McCarthy against Sandra Bullock, a better foil than Bateman, as two LEOs out to capture a drug lord in a female-heavy spin on “Lethal Weapon.” The plot is inconsequential as director Paul Fieg (“Bridesmaids”) lets the genre staple of mismatched, bickering cops rule the film. McCarthy is a Boston cop with a gift for Riggs-like man-handling, while Bullock as a tight-wad FBI agent is more Joe Friday in “Dragnet.” How the women size one another up, bicker, and then get drunk together is goofy ’80s hilarious, and just when the relationship skates too close to tears, we get riffs on runaway cats and a gory CPR scene to puke by. McCarthy is more interesting with her cop storing an arsenal in her refrigerator, sexually using needy men, and making mincemeat of a john (Tony Hale, marvelously dweeby) cheating on his wife. It’s a role and film many women may cheer: A satire that turns macho man theatrics on their head. To think the studio was scared of financing this. Twits. Of the men, Tom “Biff” Wilson knocks off laughs easily as a “42-year-old” police chief. that said, over length hurts. A-

Extract (2009)

Mike Judge’s “Office Space” is a classic comedy for anyone who works at a desk and stores paper clips as if they were nuts for winter. “Extract” is another work comedy from the man who also gave us “Beavis and Butthead,” but set in the blue-collar arena. Jason Bateman is Joel Reynolds, owner of a company that makes baking extract. Running a business is the American Dream, right? Not for Joel. His desperate plan to sell out and retire with his wife (Kristin Wiig) is undone thanks to a bizarre factory-floor accident, a goofball bartender pal (Ben Affleck), and the arrival of a hot con artist (Mila Kunis). Judge makes small comedies about real people – oddballs and eccentrics, sure – but people we all know, and love and hate, including the gabby neighbor. His targeting of the privileged is ruthless, while his needling of common folk is rarely mean. Funny? Yes. But “Extract” is scaled as a TV movie, even if the warped marriage comedy thread playfully echoes “American Beauty.” B

Paul (2011) and Spaceballs (1987)

Within a few days of each other, I watched “Spaceballs” and “Paul,” two comedy-spoofs that kick the shins while kissing the feet of George Lucas and Steven Spielberg in their full 1970s “Star Wars” and “Close Encounters of the Third Kind” glory. Hell, this blog title is named after “Close Encounters,” so I and my fellow sci-fi geeks are a happy target, too. So on we go…

Every child of the 1980s has seen “Spaceballs,” Mel Brooks’ spoof of “Star Wars” with rips at “Star Trek,” “Planet of the Apes” and “Alien” tossed in as extras. I knew this film before I knew several of the targets, being 13 in 1987. But space battles are not what Brooks is satirizing here. Rather, he targets the crass commercialization of those films, especially Lucas’ still-insatiable thirst for dollars: The way selling childish Ewok action figures became more important than crafting a nuanced child-like imaginative finale to the hallmark trilogy of Generation X’s youth. “Spaceballs” even stops midpoint to hawk its own release on VHS, a wiser joke now with present-day instant downloads and DVD releases within 8 weeks of a theatrical run.

The plot is “Star Wars” simple: A space cowboy named Lonestar (Bill Pullman) must rescue a princess (Daphne Zuniga) from the evil Dark Helmet (Rick Moranis, stealing the film even with his face covered most of the time). Brooks plays two parts: A “Wizard of Oz”-like lizard alien named Yogurt, spoofing Yoda, and a clueless president, modeled after, dare I say, Ronald Reagan. But it’s not a laugh riot. With none of Gene Wilder’s sharp gags and line delivery from “Producers,” Brooks’ comedy flounders far more than it soars.

Brooks relies on Jewish jokes, and one penis gag after another. Those get old fast. Much of the time, “Spaceballs” just sits there, almost proudly being dull as the heroes really are an unmemorable bunch of slouches. If that joke is on purpose, it back fires. Or one wonders if Brooks’ is just coasting. My theory: He doesn’t love “Star Wars” enough to really tear into it, and have giddy dirty fun as he did in “Blazing Saddles” or “Young Frankenstein.”

Brooks might enjoy “Paul,” with its dick and smoking pot jokes and the “I’m not gay” gay humor that play throughout. Realized in spring 2011, “Paul” plays along similar lines of “Spaceballs,” but stays on Earth with a classic two pals in a road chase plot. It’s more interesting, and has better lead actors. Even better: Some big sci-fi stars pop by spoofing our image of them. And we have Jason Bateman finally (finally!) playing a bad-ass fed prick, with a black suit and a gun. He’s no pocket protector nerd here. He rocks the part.

Our focus is on two Brit sci-fi nerds (Simon Pegg and Nick Frost, who previously teamed in “Shaun of the Dead” and “Hot Fuzz”) who are in the States for Comic Con at San Diego, and then a road-trip in an RV to see Area 51, the famed Black Mailbox and all the other alien invasion hot spots dotted along America. Running from a couple red necks ala “Deliverance,” our heroes see a car crash on the desert highway. The driver: A little green alien. Just like in all the History Channel specials, big raisin head, big black eyes, wee frail body. But this guy sports the demeanor of Seth Green, the actor who made me hate “Green Hornet,” but like such fare as “Superbad.” Speaking of that, Greg Mottola, the guy who directed “Superbad,” is in charge here.

This is a love letter to all films sci-fi, and other American hits: “E.T.,” “Star Wars,” “Close Encounters of the Third Kind,” “Blues Brothers,” “Thelma & Louise,” the list goes on. But there’s also a tweak of all those films, as our green guy here dismisses “E.T.” hi-jinks, and smokes a joint with his road trip buddies. There are plenty of great jokes here, but some of the film – including a bit with a Christian fanatic (Kristin Wiig) – drag. At 90 minutes, “Paul” might have been great, at more than 110 minutes, and with an ugly punch of graphic blood, this alien sticks around longer than it should. Closing on a high note: Bateman’s character sarcastically rips into his minions, each a sci-fi fanatic. “You’re a grown man, right?,” he mocks them, and us in the audience. Ouch. But clever.

“Spaceballs”: C+ “Paul”: B

Couples Retreat (2009)

I find nothing more dreadful than watching married couples bicker, especially in a comedy. It is a chore. Seriously, it's like visiting my parents. Yet, Vince Vaughn, Jon Favreau and director Peter Billingsley (Ralphie!) give us “Couples Retreat,” a dull romp about four couples who vacation in Bora Bora for R&R, but get instead stuck with awkward therapy sessions. Screaming matches and door slamming ensue. Fun? No. Every laugh was dumped in the previews, even the kid and toilet display scenes. Sure “Retreat” looks good. It made me miss sunny getaways. What I don’t miss: The “Swingers” boys rehashing their ancient bromance hi-jinks, which peaked a decade ago. These guys actually create a dude who sells video games for a living (really?) for no other reason than to set-up a “Guitar Hero” gag late in the film. And Jason Bateman again as a tightwad who must learn to have fun? Zzzz. With “Retreat,” “The Break-Up” and “Four Christmases,” Vaughn has created a new film genre: Romcom Torture Porn. D+

Mr. Magorium’s Wonder Emporium (2007)

Aimed at an audience too young for the spooks of “Willy Wonka and the Chocolate Factory,” the jawbreaker-bright “Mr. Magorium’s Wonder Emporium” stars Dustin Hoffman as the 243-year-old owner of a magical toy store where planes, balls, books, sock monkeys and dolls come alive. The set-up: Magorium is ready to “move on” (die, that is) and sees in his store clerk (Natalie Portman) a successor to his trade. He just needs to make her believe. Directed by Zack Helm, the film recalls “Romper Room” and other tyke-pitched fare, which is adorable. And yet, it is grinding. I felt for Portman. At the climax, she conducts and dances her way through an over-baked sparkle-filled scene and looks miserable. “Star Wars” prequels miserable. That said, she didn't look ready to cry. Thank heaven or wherever (as the movie says), for Jason Bateman. Playing a Gene Wilder role (accountant) perfectly straight, he steals the film, sock monkey in tow. C+