In Defense of Year One

I love comedy. I love comedy movies, stand-up, improv, slapstick, parody, satire and everything in-between. Growing up, my dad tuned into Bob & Tom's morning show and quoted Bobcat Goldthwait. Family togetherness is watching the latest American Pie flick with my folks every Thanksgiving; when George Carlin died, I cried bitterly, not because he was "the guy who came up with that list of the seven words you can't say on TV," but because a small piece of my childhood nostalgia went with him. Rest in peace, George.

Given my history with/affection for comedy, it probably comes as no surprise that I intend to defend Year One, the latest in the repertoire of fat funnyman Jack Black and the skinny, gawkish Michael Cera. Size-wise, this seems to be an instant recipe for success: "The fat guy and skinny guy comedy team is like the spaghetti and the meatballs," the author of the I May Be a Lunatic (imaybealunatic.com) blog aptly notes. "It's the ball and the bat. It's the hot dog alongside the hamburger [...] Kevin James, make another film with Will Smith, you guys were great together in 'Hitch'." In this sense, "Year One" is spot-on - Cera plays the straight man to Black's chubby dementedness, both vaguely unimpressed with this arrangement until they realize that they need each other.

The plot of "Year One" also relies on a tried-and-true formula: Biblical tales, woven together by the common theme of Black and Cera (henceforth known as "Zed" and "Oh") being kicked out every society they stumble into. Initially a bad hunter (Zed) and a passive, effeminate gatherer (Oh), the pair charms and fumbles their way into the peripheral of the murderous Cain (David Cross), who guilts Zed and Oh into running off with him after he infamously slays his brother Abel (an underused Paul Rudd) - who then sells Zed and Oh to slavers, who are then attacked by Sodomites. Christopher Mintz-Plasse (yes, yes, he was McLovin, and don't you forget it) also hams it up as Isaac, who narrowly escapes being offed by his father Abraham (Hank Azaria) so he can hang out in the sin cities (Sodom and Gomorrah, natch) with his new buds. Also, Zed is possibly the Chosen One, and Oh is in love with a pretty girl from his village.

The movie isn't perfect, of course. Black's penchant for anachronisms - rallying support for women's rights at one point; in Year One, get it? Har har - is stilted, and Cera's love interest (Eema, played by Juno Temple) seems particularly out of place because she's too pretty and polished. While her female co-star, Maya (June Raphael) shows off an impressive thatch of pit hair for a gag (pun intended), the extent of Eema's role seems to be a strategically placed twig in her artificially bleached mane and being smaller than Michael Cera. Yawn.

On the other hand, "Year One" has its charms. Everyone in the theatre squirms when Cera's character finally gives in to his carefully held bladder and urinates - while suspended upside down - all over himself. There is also a "chase scene" between two chariots going maybe five miles an hour that is worth waiting for. Also, like "Family Guy", "Year One" is great at drawing out a bit where it isn't funny anymore, and then it keeps going, and then it's hilarious. Exhibit A: Cross taking out Rudd with a big rock, over and over again.

I maintain that "Year One" is underrated, and propose two reasons for this: Bad advertising, and something I like to call, "The Will Ferrell Effect".

"It's all in the packaging!"

Comedy movies don't get the respect they deserve. As an NYU film student friend of mine has revealed, comedy screenplays are sold for a fraction of dramas, likely because they only bring in a sliver of the revenue. There's a formula, certainly - "Year One" definitely falls into the "2-4 guys go on a cuh-razy adventure and also score some chicks because they learn to be themselves, and also there's a bit with a goat" category.

And yet, there are variances. Jack Black has made a name for himself as a pudgy, funny dude, but that's the only similarity between "Year One" and, say "School of Rock". The latter is cleaner, cuter, and probably doesn't have any material that could be deemed "blasphemous". Comedies may seem like a dime a dozen, but the craft takes all kinds. Jack Black's schtick is slap-happy; Cera is the face of awkward, quiet, I'd-swear-his-entire-part-was-improv comedy, tossing off observations like, "She's a self-loathing gatherer" in a way that looks like his douche bag friends have stolen the camera he was going to use to send a video to his ailing grandma, and have made him put on his sister's bra.

Similarly, David Cross and Paul Rudd fall into the pool of 'underground' comedians, alongside dudes like Patton Oswalt and chicks like Maria Bamford. They know that their entire appeal lies in being edgy, that the kiss of death for their craft - and subsequently, their careers - is playing the leading man in a rom-com (also known as "pulling a Dane Cook"), and/or headlining a family comedy, a la George Lopez or Bill Engvall. The film is meant to be both satirical and sardonic, but the only thing the trailer reveals is that Jack Black is dressed in another kooky costume. Hey, let's bring the kids, they liked that panda-in-board shorts movie! No, Dad. No.

"The Will Ferrell Effect"

Part of the appeal for guys like Ferrell is that they appear fearless; of Ferrell, Josh Levin of Slate Magazine admires how "he flaunts his hairy, paunchy body without a hint of shame". There isn't a movie that goes by without a flash of pasty skin; a musical number (usually a sing-along to a classic rock medley); or Ferrell's character elaborating on some ridiculous backstory (or all of the above).

Formulaic? Sure. But if all you're watching for is to see Ferrell, or Jack Black, go through the motions, then I daresay you're doing it wrong. The stuff in-between is the true comedic gold; it's fine to bring kids to Ferrell's take on "Land of the Lost" because there are dudes dressed in lizard costumes and one of them sounds like Leonard Nimoy, but the chemistry between Will and his co-stars is key. In a well-advertised schtick, Ferrell's displaced scientist character glowers at Matt Lauer (playing himself with a similar aplomb that Stephen Colbert does on network television every weeknight) and tells him that he can "suck it" for making fun of his time travel hypothesis. Okay, it's a funny line. However, the really funny part is watching Matt Lauer's face as he tries to guess how Ferrell, well-known for his improv, will fare going off-script. Because it's not a question of whether he will or not - that's a given. It's a question of how.

There's a sense of camaraderie between comedian co-stars, a notion that they're trying to make each other laugh as much as they are trying to make a movie. Romantic comedies tend to have at least one or two of these scene-stealers - they're the real comedy, giving everyone a breather from the cloying, unconvincing love affair of Some Hot Girl and Dane Cook (sorry, dude, too easy). Unfortunately, it's not enough a lot of the time. For fare such as "Year One", the script itself is only one 'level' of comedy - Jack Black's not just doing "the fat funny guy" schtick, as much as he is performing a clever homage-cum-social commentary on how misunderstood said fat, funny guys are. Also, Larry the Cable Guy is smarter than he looks. No, really.

"The Aristocrats!" joke isn't funny because of the punch-line, after all - it's the stuff in its gooey center. Jack Black gets a bit shafted as the one guy in the "Year One" group who isn't renounced for particularly edgy comedy, sort of a 1990s Jim Carrey, before he metamorphosed into a "Yes Man". (That is, once he threw off the kid-friendly cutting up and got over himself with "Truman Show"-era stuff. Adam Sandler seems to be going through a similar process.) At the same time, like Ferrell, you have to know what to look for: That beat of silence as the initial joke is drawn out just a bit too long for comfort and everyone on-screen starts blinking too much to keep themselves from cracking up.

Jack Black's best stuff is unscripted. In that sense, the best bang for your movie buck is to set up a camera and let him take his shirt off.