The Screengrab : chris farley

Screengrab Review: "An American Carol"

Leonard Pierce — Fri, 10 Oct 2008 15:45:00 GMT

This week, as the election nears, I decided to treat myself to two movies that I ordinarily wouldn't see under any circumstance. Not just because they looked terrible -- although they did -- but also because they were movies that, in a very literal sense, were not made for me. These movies are less artistic endeavors than they are salvos in the culture war, and if they were aimed at me, it was not as a consumer, but as a target.

But hey, so what? I go see a lot of movies that aren't really meant for me. I've reviewed Tyler Perry movies, which aren't meant for me. I've reviewed Disney animated movies, which aren't meant for me. I'm a big fan of Stan Brakhage, and his movies weren't really made for anyone. I'm a professional, damn it, and as a professional, I can take whatever to the other side in the culture wars dish out. The first tasty bowl of arsenic: David Zucker's An American Carol.

The film, as you may know from Phil Nugent's earlier piece on it, is a high-dudgeoned but low-minded spoof in which a stand-in for Michael Moore (portrayed by a stand-in for Chris Farley) is interrupted in his quest to ban the Fourth of July by a visitation by three ghosts, who attempt to dissuade him from his wicked anti-American ways. Why wasn't his movie released at Christmastime? Why would anyone want to ban a calendar day? Why would you send John F. Kennedy to attack a prominent liberal? I figured if I started asking myself questions like that, I would just go insane. Instead, I focused on whether or not the movie was actually funny. I hope I will be believe when I say that, all ideological considerations aside, it wasn't. It's not that you can't be funny from a specific political point of view; in fact, satire (which, really, An American Carol is too dumb to qualify as, but still) depends on a moral standing ground from which to attack. It's that these jokes lack any kind of universality, humanity or relatability: the only way you can think it's funny is if you agree with where it's coming from. Or, to put it another way: the new, right-wing David Zucker believes it's funny to have Michael Moore slapped around by Bill O'Reilly. If you happen to agree, you might be modestly amused; if you don't, the joke will fall even flatter than it actually does. The old, non-political David Zucker knew better: he just thought it was funny when people get slapped.

Above and beyond the question of its partisan demands, though, is the fact that An American Carol just isn't very funny, even if you're a conservative. Its jokes are lazy, obvious, and predictable even by the subzero standards of modern farce, and while moviegoing audiences have proven time and time again that they'll go to a movie that critics don't like because they genuinely enjoy it themselves, there's very few people who will go to a movie out of spite, which is really the only reason to see An American Carol. This is evidenced by the fact that with half the country or more still self-identifying as conservative, the movie completely tanked at the box office; as Phil reported, though, Zucker and a few of his far-right pals are claiming that its disastrous performance is due to some kind of liberal conspiracy. If I can be allowed one moment of ideology, that's the great strength of the paranoid right: if you succeed, it's because America loves your values; if you fail, it's because liberals sabotaged you. All I can say is, they did a hell of a screw job on this one.

Hollywood Conservatives Face 'New McCarthyism', Goblins, Unicorns

David Spade: The Real Love Guru

Phil Nugent — Fri, 03 Oct 2008 14:00:00 GMT

Did you have a guy in high school who always seemed to effortlessly attract all the girls you were interested in, and you never could figure out why? I had a guy like that, and I'd just like to take a moment to mention that I recently had a very enjoyable conversation with one of my relatives who still lives in the old country who called to ask if I still remembered that guy, and to let me know that the indictments are expected to be handed down any minute now. Turns out I had it pretty easy next to J. R. Moehringer, who in the current issue of Los Angeles magazine reveals that, in his high school class, that guy was David Spade, the former Saturday Night Live waste of space whose movie career includes the Chris Farley team-up Tommy Boy (which Moehringer, in exchange for lord knows how much money, calls "much loved") and his own star vehicle Joe Dirt, which up to September 10, 2001, was probably the single worst thing to happen in the twenty-first century. "We graduated together in May 1982," he writes, "and even back then, when we were pubescent boys, I knew Spade was the greatest ladies’ man of all time. He was voted Most Artistic, but the entire student body at Saguaro High School knew he was the campus Casanova, a walking stalk of catnip for every cheerleader and homecoming queen. I can still close my eyes and see Spade in a burst of vivid colors—royal blue Ocean Pacific shorts, black-and-white-checked Vans, beige puka shell necklace. I can see him flying across the gray quad on his skateboard, pirouetting around the caramel-legged girls in their short shorts and miniskirts, making them swoon and tee-hee and sigh his name." Moehringer's article is a profile of his own teenage pal, with a special angle: the author's desperate desire to crack the secret of Spade's appeal to women. (He also breaks the news that Spade may be plotting a sequel to Joe Dirt, to be called Joe Dirtier.) Moehringer, who is not afraid to make controversial, near-surreal claims, such as his insistence that Spade does not look "elfin", was at one point moved to turn to no less an authority on what turns on hot women than Courtney Cox Arquette. Well, says Bruce Springsteen's old dance partner, women like men who are funny. Maybe they do, but what's that got to do with David Spade? (At this point, it would probably be a good idea to remember who she's married to.)

"After graduation I continued to watch from afar as Spade cut a fearsome swath through society’s cheerleaders and homecoming queens—i.e., models and actresses. Now and then I would read in a magazine about his latest romantic conquest, and I’d turn to whoever happened to be sitting beside me at whichever bar. See this guy? I’d say, flourishing the magazine. I went to high school with this guy, and this guy is the greatest ladies’ man of all time." According to Moehringer's scoreboard, Spade's appearances in the gossip pages with Heather Locklear, Krista Allen, Julie Bowen, Lara Flynn Boyle, Sara Foster, Teri Hatcher, Gena Lee Nolin, and Kristy Swanson officially trump the record of his nearest competitor, Justin Timberlake, who gets surprisingly little for having not only introduced Britney Spears to the art of love but having apparently driven her mad with grief from their breakup. In the tone of someone who really means it but would appreciate it if you'd assume that he's kidding if he sounds too ridiculous, Moehringer describes his failed attempts to probe Spade for his great secret; the closest Spade actually comes to giving it up comes when he concedes, "The more they don’t know—helps." In the end, it may be best if the great secret dies with him. Moehringer begins to see Spade in Byronic terms as a man, like Casanova in his final days, hounded by his own legend and his inability to persuade these women to back up off him for a minute. "A short time later I read in the gossip magazines that he’d spent the weekend with Jennifer Aniston. Weeks after that I saw a photo of Spade walking on a floury white beach with a stunning Australian actress named Nicky Whelan. He didn’t look happy. He looked tired, as if the white sand were quicksand...A man should be consistent, reliable, take care not to be a flaky show-off asshole. But all that virtue won’t make him a virtuoso unless he also possesses that ineffable something, that intangible quality, which eludes description, which can’t be shared any more than it can be explained. Whatever it is, Spade has it, and it might be getting stronger as he gets older, which is his curse as well as his blessing." The Screengrab is honored to bestow upon this article its coveted Parker Tyler Memorial Award for Weird-Ass Read of the Week.

Trailer Review: An American Carol

Paul Clark — Wed, 27 Aug 2008 16:00:00 GMT

I’ve heard some conservatives speaking of “the humorless left,” but if this trailer tells me anything, it’s that humorlessness can be found on both sides of the aisle. How else to explain this laugh-free, broad-as-a-barndoor jeremiad against America-hating liberals, embodied here in the person of a Michael Moore surrogate played by Chris Farley’s little brother Kevin? Granted, Moore kind of brings this upon himself, but I think that’s part of the problem- Moore’s tactics have become pretty embarrassing even to those who agree with his politics, so not only is it all too easy to single him out as a symbol of left-wing America, but it’s fairly inaccurate as well. But then, cheap shots are this trailer’s stock in trade- liberals hate America and deserve to be repeatedly socked in the face on for ideological reasons, while only conservatives truly love and respect what this country stands for (could the Trace Atkins song in the trailer be any more on the nose?). All of which goes to show you that there are few things more depressing than an unfunny comedy, especially one populated by has-beens (Kelsey Grammer, no doubt trying to rustle up funds for his next misbegotten Broadway show), crackpots (Jon Voight), and all-around attention whores (Bill O’Reilly). And this guy directed The Naked Gun? How the mighty have fallen…