Despicable Me 4: More Minions

He shares a name with the current Russian and former Soviet military intelligence agencies, so Gru ought to be evil. Of course, most of America knows he started out as a supervillain, but he defected to the good guys. His villainous background still comes in handy, to catch his old supervillain rivals. This time, he battles his former school bully, who has a thing for cockroaches. As usual, Gru cannot count on the dubious help of the Minions in Chris Renaud & Patrick Delage’s Illumination-produced Despicable Me 4, which opens tomorrow pretty much anywhere that has a movie screen.

For 99% of the people interested in this film, all you need know is Minions cause Minion chaos and it is still funny. There is also a story, if you care.

Working with the Anti-Villain League (AVL), Felonious Gru returns for his evil prep school’s reunion, hoping to bust his former classmate Maxime Le Mal and his femme fatale sidekick, Valentina. Somehow, he pulls it off, even though the Minions are not much help. However, Le Mal quickly escapes from AVL, swearing vengeance.

Consequently, AVL chief Silas Ramsbottom (freshly reinstated after a short-lived retirement) creates new identities for Gru and his family, installing them in a safe-house next door to young Poppy Prescott, an aspiring super villain and Gru’s biggest fan. Some of the Minions stay with Gru, but Ramsbottom brings most of them to AVL headquarters.

He has a grand scheme to transform them into superheroes, who will known as the “Mega-Minions.” Obviously, this is a terrible idea, as the initial test subjects prove. Inevitably, their super-heroics cause more damage than they prevent.

The Despicable Me films featuring Gru have evolved into a rather sweet family story, with the reformed villain happily married to AVL agent Lucy Wilde and doing his best to parent their three adopted daughters and baby Gru Jr. Yet, that remains a comparatively minor theme compared to the slapstick minion madness.

Basically, the minions still combine the most annoying characteristics of five-year-old children and a plague of locusts. They cannot help creating mayhem. It is just their nature. However, that gives Renaud, veteran franchise writer Ken Daurio, and co-screenwriter Mike White bountiful opportunities to create crazy gags. The Minions constantly devise new and amusing ways to knock each other over and break things.

As a result, it is easy to overlook the artistry of the animation amid the maelstrom of lunacy. There are several scenes that are actually quite impressive, including Gru’s final showdown with Le Mal atop a vertigo-inducing skyscraper.

The Trip to Greece: One Last Jaunt

Greece is the birthplace of the marathon and EU austerity budgets, but neither represents the style of Steve Coogan and Rob Brydon’s culinary tours across Europe. It is only five-star restaurants and hotels for them, but if the formula works, why fiddle with it? The British comedic actors return for one more jaunt playing hyper-meta versions of themselves in Michael Winterbottom’s The Trip to Greece, which actually opens today in a handful of cities and also releases on-demand.

Coogan has won seven BAFTA Awards—and don’t you forget it. However, the caricature he has created of himself is somewhat lonely and regretful, especially compared to the uber-meta Brydon, who is a happily contented husband and father. Throughout the series, he has been totally fine to receive second-billing to Coogan, especially since it gives him the liberty to deflate his friend’s self-important pretensions.

This time around, they will be reviewing the finest restaurants in Greece, but they are well aware they have done this several times before (in Spain, Italy, and the North of England), as their jokes will attest. Turkish viewers might possibly object to the title, since they retrace Odysseus’s trek, starting at the site of ancient Troy in Turkey. Mortality will also cast a shadow over this Trip, because Coogan will constantly call his fictional son for news on his ailing fictional father.

Of course, the heart and soul of the latest Trip remains their improvised banter and one-upping celebrity impersonations. They revisit greatest hits, like Michael Caine and Roger Moore, but they probably get their biggest laughs doing Mick Jagger and Keith Richards.

Tribeca ’17: The Trip to Spain

Seriously, does anything go better with spicy seafood than Roger Moore impressions? They’re in Spain, you see. The Moors, Roger Moore. Get it? You will if you join Steve Coogan and Rob Brydon for another culinary jaunt in Michael Winterbottom’s The Trip to Spain, which screens again today at the 2017 Tribeca Film Festival.

Steve Coogan is still Steve Coogan and Rob Brydon is still Rob Brydon. Coogan was always the more famous one, but that is especially true now that he is riding high on the success of the ridiculously overrated Philomena. However, despite his professional frustrations, Brydon appears to be the happier one. It would be more accurate to say the loving father and sort of faithful husband is somewhat happy, whereas the emotionally unfulfilled Coogan is really just miserable. Of course, we are talking about their Trip franchise analogs, not the real comedians, right?

Regardless, Brydon and Coogan are together again, following up their restaurant tours of Italy and the North of England with a saunter through Spain. This time, Brydon will do the newspaper reviews, while Coogan takes notes for a self-indulgent book. Of course, Coogan brings up Philomena every chance he gets. His digs at Brydon also seem less good-natured, but his Welsh counterpart largely lets them roll off his back. After all, this is a good gig for the working-class celebrity.

Once again, the two bickering friends mine comedy gold from their dueling celebrity impressions. Coogan is also quite the good sport allowing Brydon and Winterbottom to deflate his pomposity for comic effect. There is no question Coogan and Brydon dominate this Trip, just like they did previous installments of the UK television series/US film franchise. However, Kyle Soller scores a lot of laughs in his scene-stealing cameo as Coogan’s ex-American agent.

All three Trips are consistently funny films, but they also offer a bittersweet, deeply humanistic portrayal of middle-age and its related insecurities. Frankly, the trilogy makes us willing to forgive Coogan for What Goes Up, whereas Brydon still has plenty of good credit accrued from his voice-work in the Julia Donaldson animated specials (The Gruffalo, Room on the Broom). Recommended like the return of a slightly balmy old friend that always raises your spirits, The Trip to Spain screens again tonight (4/24), as part of this year’s Tribeca Film Festival.

Northern Soul: Heroic Crate-Digging

Sure, there had been celebrity radio DJs like Alan Freed, but the idea of going out specifically to hear a DJ spin live really gained traction with the localized explosion of popularity of American soul in the North of England. The more obscure the platter, the better. In fact, many top DJs concealed the identity of their best records, in order to keep them out of the hands of the competition. John Clark and his mate hope to be the next big thing, but they will have some growing up to do first. The characters are fictional, but the music, venues, and amphetamines are true to life in Elaine Constantine’s Northern Soul (trailer here), which opens today in New York.

Clark is your basic anti-social under-achiever, but when he hears his first Northern Soul record at the youth center, it hits him like a lightning bolt. John is the one who played it. He was given a limited tryout window, but most of the crowd is not as hip as Clark. At least a fast friendship is forged when Clark weighs into the ensuing melee on John’s behalf. Soon, the somewhat older emancipated youth is tutoring Clark in music and fashion. They become a DJ’ing duo and hatch a scheme to hunt down obscure soul gems in America.

However, it eventually becomes apparent John is the big talker, whereas Clark is the doer. It is also clear the latter is a self-sabotager, who cannot hold his amphetamines as well as Clark. Consequently, inevitable tensions threaten to tear their partnership asunder. On the plus side, Clark might finally be getting somewhere with Angela, the pretty nurse he has long carried a torch for.

Interestingly, the interracial nature of their halting relationship never seems to be an issue, which is all quite nice. However, the question of white appropriation of African American music is never addressed either, which is more problematic. Of course, we are expected to infer the white Northern Soul fans are drawn to the music because of their status as economic underdogs, much like Roddy Doyle’s Commitments.

Clearly, Constantine profoundly digs the Northern Soul sound. She also gets credit for forthrightly depicting the rampant drug abuse corrupting the scene. There is a lot of grit and Fame-like resiliency permeating her film, but the narrative is not blindingly original. In fact, Northern Soul weirdly parallels Jason Lei Howdon’s Deathgasm, except for the whole demon apocalypse thing.

Regardless, Elliot James Langridge certainly looks like a pasty-white, poorly socialized record collector. He also gets effectively bug-eyed and clammy as Clark’s speed intake increases. Frustratingly, the charismatic presence of Antonia Thomas is largely wasted in scenes where Angela coyly smiles at Clark from afar. Conversely, Josh Whitehouse is so convincingly annoying as John, you will want to hit him with a two-by-four, but that is what he is supposed to be going for. It is a strong ensemble, but fans should understand Steve Coogan is Northern Soul just enough to justify his name on the poster. Still, his casually contemptuous high school teacher is instrumental setting up Clark’s big teenage defiance scene.

This should almost go without saying, but the soundtrack is awesome.  Lou Pride’s “I’m Com’un Home in the Morn’un” is especially catchy as established DJ Ray Henderson’s secret “cover-up” song. If you like Northern Soul, Northern Soul delivers as promised. It just comes with some melodramatic excesses here and there. Overall, it is quite evocative of an era and a musical phenomenon. Recommended for all manner of Soul and R&B fans, Northern Soul opens today (10/2) in New York, at the AMC Empire.

The Trip to Italy: Pasta on the Menu

D.H. Lawrence and E.M. Forster found inspiration in Italy. So did Byron and Shelley—a fact Rob Brydon will hardly let Steve Coogan forget. He will quote both poets at length when the celebrity impersonating duo embark on another road-trip in Michael Winterbottom’s The Trip to Italy (trailer here), which opens this Friday in New York.

Italy might just be the only Winterbottom film that resembles any of his previous work. Clearly sticking with the game plan that proved so winning in The Trip, he turns Coogan and Brydon loose to eat and riff with abandon. Playing somewhat fictionalized and exaggerated versions of themselves (or so we can only hope), the comedians obsess over their careers and complicated personal lives, while touring through Italy for a series of magazine articles.

Just about everyone who saw the original Trip know it as the Michael Caine impression movie (or television show, as it was presented in the UK). There is not the same pitched impersonation battle this time around, but Brydon gives his Al Pacino and Tom Hardy good workouts. Arguably, the Italian Trip is not quite as funny as their tour through the north of England, but the food is considerably more tempting. The second time around will also resonate more with cineastes, who should enjoy their visits to the famous locations seen in John Huston’s Beat the Devil, Jean-Luc Godard’s Contempt, and William Wyler’s Roman Holiday.

Admittedly, both Trips are rather light when it comes to narrative, but it is rather fascinating to watch Coogan and Brydon portray their own somewhat unsympathetic meta-analogs. While Coogan played a rather soulsick Coogan the last go round, he makes a good faith attempt to redeem himself and reconnect with his fictional son in the new outing. In contrast, Brydon goes from being the more likable one to a bit of a cad this time.

If you do not feel like visiting Italy after watching the latest Trip, you were not watching with your eyes open. Winterbottom and cinematographer James Clarke make it look spectacularly beautiful. Brydon and Coogan also land an impressive number of laughs, which Winterbottom wraps up in a surprisingly effective bittersweet bow. Recommended for fans of British comedies and foodie films, The Trip to Italy opens this Friday (8/15) in New York at the IFC Center.

Philomena: Mean Nuns and Wisecracking Muckrakers

At least the Irish nuns of Roscrea convent are not cannibals, but that is about all they have going for them. In the early 1950’s, they took in “shamed” young women, forcing them to serve five years of indentured servitude, even after their children had been “sold” to adoptive parents.  For decades, Philomena Lee had searched in vain for her son Anthony, but she will finally get some answers when she teams up with a disgraced Labour press flack slumming as tabloid freelancer.  Prepare to laugh a little, cry a little, and learn a little bit about yourself with Stephen Frears’ shamelessly manipulative Philomena (trailer here), which opens tomorrow in New York.

A few hours after finally learning she could have a half brother out there, Lee’s daughter pitches her story to Martin Sixsmith.  Hung out to dry by the Labour Party over some petty kerfuffle, he is looking to grind out a few human interest pieces.  As an Oxford educated hipster atheist, he instinctively looks down on the simple, devout Lee.  However, he recognizes the elements of a juicy tear-jerking expose.

With his new scandal sheet picking up the tab, Sixsmith follows Anthony’s trail from Ireland to America, with Lee in tow.  Yet, a few phone calls and an internet search in the airport are all Sixsmith really needs to crack the case.  Renamed Michael Hess by his parents, Lee’s Anthony became a high-ranking insider in the Reagan and H.W. Bush administrations.  He was also a closeted gay man, who tragically died of AIDS.  It turns out it isn’t just the nuns who are meanies. Republicans are not very nice either, because they did not indiscriminately shovel our cash at AIDS causes.

Steve Coogan and Jeff Pope’s screen adaptation of Sixsmith’s book is so preoccupied with score-settling, it is frankly rather embarrassing, like that obnoxious relative at Thanksgiving dinner who insists on revisiting each and every perceived slight. If truth be told, they share Sixsmith’s initial contempt of Lee, portraying her as a tacky rube, devouring trashy romance novels and desperately clinging to her blind Catholic faith, despite all the dirtiness done unto her by the Sisters.  Lee deserves better than she gets from Dame Judi Dench shticky Oscar trolling performance.  Even when Dench’s Lee offers her unsolicited forgiveness to the nasty old nun most responsible for Roscrea’s problematic past, what should have been a heavy moment is reduced to a few trite exchanges.

For a film wrapping itself in the “feel good” mantle, Philomena is surprising mean-spirited.  If you do not share its politics, you are necessarily morally and ethically suspect.  If you were not educated at the right schools, you must be an unsophisticated simpleton, like Lee.  If you have faith, you are by definition an idiot.  Yet, it is the Church that is narrow-minded and judgmental.  Essentially, Philomena is an echo chamber for those who share its prejudices.  It gins up plenty of outrage, but it is hollow in the middle.  Not recommended, Philomena opens tomorrow (11/22) in New York at Paris Theatre uptown and the Angelika Film Center downtown.

NYFF ’13: Alan Partridge

Alan Partridge could be described as the Ted Baxter of North Norfolk, except he is more self-centered and less self-aware.  The alter-ego of comedian Steve Coogan is wildly popular in the UK, but more of a cult thing here in America. Regardless, cinema obviously represented the next logical step for the name brand franchise established through radio, TV, books, and webisodes. North Norfolk’s smarmiest broadcaster finally gets the attention he craves with Declan Lowney’s Alan Partridge (a.k.a. Alan Partridge: Alpha Papa, trailer here), which screens during the 51^st New York Film Festival.

As fans know all too well, Partridge currently hosts Mid-Morning Matters on North Norfolk Digital with Sidekick Simon. Initially, the shallow blowhard thinks little of it when a Clear Channel-like conglomerate acquires the station, rebranding it the “SHAPE.” However, when Partridge agrees to speak to the new management on behalf of his nervous colleague, Pat Farrell, he learns either he or his supposed friend will face the corporate axe.  Of course, Partridge unsubtly stabs Farrell in the back.

The pink-slipped Farrell takes the news rather badly, returning to the station with a shotgun for a spot of hostage taking. Assuming the best of his two-faced pal, Farrell demands Partridge act as the go-the-between as a police stand-off ensues. Finding himself in the media spotlight, Partridge is determined to capitalize on this career opportunity, but as always, he fumbles and bumbles at every step.

If you like Partridge, the Partridge film delivers plenty, but the laugh lines are pretty much exclusively reserved for Coogan’s signature Character. It is often very funny, but it very definitely stays within the Partridge Zone.  After all, satisfying the existing fan-base is the most pressing objective for any TV franchise crossing over to the big screen, which should certainly be the case here. Fear not, Partridge never develops a conscience or any sense of decorum.

Co-written by Coogan and his frequent collaborator Armando Iannucci, with Neil Gibbons, Rob Gibbons, and Peter Baynham, the film raises the stakes from previous Partridge outings, what with the hostage crisis and all, while staying true to its roots.  Naturally identified as conservative in past incarnations (because that is so conducive to success with the BBC), the big-screen Partridge wisely eschews politicized humor in favor of broad physical comedy and the comeuppance of public humiliation.

Coogan still clearly enjoys the Partridge shtick and Lowney maintains a snappy energy level throughout. Although Colm Meaney gets second billing as Farrell, he does not have much opportunity to exercise his considerable comedy chops (ironically showcased quite nicely in Terry George’s hostage comedy renamed The Stand-Off, post-Tribeca). It is Partridge’s show and don’t you forget it. Enjoyably shameless overall, Alan Partridge is recommended for series fans when it screens again next Monday (10/7) at Alice Tully Hall as a main slate selection of the 2013 NYFF.

What Maisie Knew: Henry James Modernized & Sweetened

This must have been a hard pitch.  One would suspect Henry James’ novel of narcissistic, self absorbed parents of privilege would hit close to home for many decision-makers working in the movie business (studio or indie, it hardly matters anymore).  Yet somehow, the poor little rich girl will indeed wrestle with her parental issues in Scott McGehee & David Siegel’s What Maisie Knew (trailer here), which opens this Friday in New York.

Beale and Susanna are Maisie’s parents, if we can really use that word.  He is a dodgy art dealer and she is an over-the-hill rock star angling for a comeback.  Both are more interested in their careers than their daughter.  When they think of Maisie, it is mostly as a potential club to bludgeon each other with during their divorce proceedings.

Since he is able to present a more stable front, Beale wins considerable custody rights.  However, this is not all bad.  He is also taking her nanny Margo as his trophy wife.  She actually cares about Maisie, willingly giving her the time and attention she cannot get from her parents.  Meanwhile, Susanna marries the working class Lincoln, apparently to have a live-in sitter for Maisie. Like Margo, he quickly develops a paternal affection for his step-daughter that the ragingly insecure Susanna perversely resents. Hmm, does anybody see the potential building blocks of a more functional family unit in here somewhere?

Poor Mrs. Wix.  Maisie’s frumpy second nanny really gets the shaft from screenwriters Nancy Doyne and Carroll Cartwright’s adaptation.  While the James novel rebukes the shallow indulgence he considered endemic in society, McGehee and Siegel’s WMK seems to suggest blonds make better parents.  The proceedings are also marked by a heightened class consciousness, with the nanny and bartender showing superior character than Maisie’s privileged biological parents.

Regardless of what James might think of his novel modernized and transported to New York, McGehee and Siegel have an unbeatable trump card in their young lead.  As Maisie, Onata Aprile is completely unaffected and wholly engaging.  She covers a wide emotional spectrum, carrying the audience every step of the way. 

Likewise, Joanna Vanderham is charismatic and surprisingly vulnerable as Margo, while Alexander Skarsgård’s understated nice guy Lincoln is likable enough.  Julianne Moore labors valiantly to humanize the self-centered and psychologically erratic Susanna, but Steve Coogan is largely stuck playing a caricatured straw-man as the arrogant Beale.

Maisie’s cast and co-director definitely stack the deck, but at least they do it thoroughly and compellingly.  Viewers will absolutely care about the bright and precociously self-aware Maisie, which is the acid test for any film focused on a young protagonist. The upscale New York locations also add a dash of élan.  Anchored by several well turned performances, What Maisie Knew is surprisingly satisfying.  Recommended kind of affectionately for fans of literary melodrama, it opens this Friday (5/3) in New York at the Angelika Film Center.

Sundance ’13: The Look of Love

Paul Raymond was like the British Hefner, except he was significantly richer.  It turns out real estate and dirty magazines were a highly profitable combination.  Who knew?  Yet, despite the money and the parties, Raymond’s story is rather sad, at least according to Michael Winterbottom’s big screen treatment, The Look of Love, which screens during the 2013 Sundance Film Festival in Park City.

Initially a burlesque impresario, Raymond’s first foray into publishing was a failure.  The timing was better for Men Only in the early 1970’s.  Much like Hefner, Raymond planned to turn control of his companies over to his daughter Debbie.  Unfortunately, as the audience quickly understands from the flashback structure, this will not come to pass.

Matt Greenhalgh’s screenplay unambiguously argues doing coke with your daughter does not constitute good parenting.  Actually, Look’s inclination to pass moral judgment is rather refreshing.  Yet, it clearly wants to have its cheesecake and eat it too.  There are plenty of scenes of Raymond’s naughty stage shows and photo-shoots.  However, the real estate side of his empire gets decidedly short shrift.  It might not be as cinematic, but it is important.  At the height of his family tragedy, Raymond was declared the wealthiest man in the UK, but Look never really explores his considerable business acumen.

Reuniting with Winterbottom again (following the thoroughly entertaining Trip), Steve Coogan is quite masterful in the dramedic lead, vividly portraying Raymond’s recklessness and remorse.  Unlike obvious comparison films (such as Boogie Nights), Look boasts several strong women characters, including Raymond’s first wife Jean and his longtime lover, Fiona Richmond, both of whom were once involved in the risqué side of his business.  One might even go so far as to say Tamsin Egerton projects empowered confidence as Richmond, the sex symbol who eventually has enough.  As Ms. Raymond #1, Anna Friel’s mature, self-possessed sexuality also works quite well on-screen.  Conversely, Imogen Poots’ lost little rich party girl persona becomes rather exhausting.

It is hard not to enjoy Raymond’s breezy first act success story, but since we know more or less how it ends, the third act plays out like a grim end-game.  As a period production, Look gets the groovy details right and if you dig David and Bacharach, you will have plenty to hum along with here.  Look is a fascinating morality tale, but it just could have used a bit more pep down the stretch.  Recommended reservedly for Coogan fans and those obsessed with the early adult smut industry, The Look of Love screens again Wednesday (1/23) in Salt Lake, Thursday (1/24) in Sundance Resort, and Saturday (1/26) in Park City, as part of this year’s Sundance.

Coogan vs. Brydon: The Trip

One is Welsh (and don’t you forget it). The other is from The North, but much of the time they sound like their roots are strictly working class cockney. Prepare for a pitched battle of Michael Caine impressions. There will also be gourmet food. British comedians Steve Coogan and Rob Brydon play British comedians Steve Coogan and Rob Brydon, respectively, in Michael Winterbottom’s pseudo-fictional road-movie buddy-comedy The Trip (trailer here), which opens this Friday in New York at the IFC Center.

Coogan is one of the biggest stars in the UK. Just ask him, he’ll tell you. Divorced with a son he should see more of, Coogan’s personal life is pretty much a mess. His girlfriend has called a timeout and returned to America right before he is scheduled to take a culinary tour of the North of England on behalf of a major magazine. Stuck with a gig he only accepted because he thought she would enjoy it, Coogan invites along his old kind of chum Brydon in her place.

Hardly a big star, Brydon gets paid to make silly voices on the radio. However, the working class comic knows perfectly well there are worse ways to make a living. Happily married with a little girl, one hopes Brydon’s life is only thinly fictionalized. In contrast, we soon wish the moody Coogan portrayed in The Trip is largely an invented persona. They have one thing in common though. Both have very definite ideas on how Michael Caine should sound, which they demonstrate, repeatedly. Recognizing good material, Coogan and Brydon frequently return to the well and it is still funny each and every time.

Edited to feature length from the original six-part British mini-series, Trip is consistently droll, even when not plundering the Sir Michael comedy store. Stylistically very different, Coogan and Brydon play off each other quite well. Their mostly improvised bickering banter is always razor sharp, but never overly caustic. Coogan even offers a spot of credibly understated drama as his own rather miserable self. Yet, the film will not afford him the opportunity of blaming his parents, presenting them as warmly supportive and not at all embarrassing (at least by parental standards) when Coogan and Brydon pop in for a quick visit.

Throughout Trip, viewers also get a driving tour of the North, which looks quite picturesque through cinematographer Ben Smithard’s lens. Still, one suspects 111 minutes of the Lakeland district might be just about right, unless you have reservations at some of the elite restaurants Coogan and Brydon visit. Witty without getting too cute or annoyingly self-referential, The Trip is surprisingly entertaining, definitely recommended when it opens tomorrow (6/10) on two screens at the IFC Center.

Tribeca ’11: The Trip

Prepare for a pitched battle of Michael Caine impressions. There will also be gourmet food. British comedians Steve Coogan and Rob Brydon play British comedians Steve Coogan and Rob Brydon, respectively, in Michael Winterbottom’s pseudo-fictional road-movie buddy-comedy The Trip, which screens at the 2011 Tribeca Film Festival (currently underway in Chelsea and the East Village).

Coogan is one of the biggest stars in the UK. Just ask him, he’ll tell you. Divorced with a son he should see more of, Coogan’s personal life is pretty much a mess. His girlfriend has called a timeout and returned to America right before he is scheduled to take a culinary tour of the North of England on behalf of a major magazine. Stuck with a gig he only accepted because he thought she would enjoy it, Coogan invites along his old chum Brydon in her place.

Hardly a big star, Brydon gets paid to make silly voices on the radio. However, the working class Welsh comic knows there are worse ways to make a living. Happily married with a little girl, one hopes Brydon’s life is only thinly fictionalized. In contrast, we soon wish the moody Coogan portrayed in The Trip is largely an invented persona. They have one thing in common though. They both have very definite ideas on how Michael Caine should sound, which they demonstrate, repeatedly. Recognizing good material, Coogan and Brydon frequently return to the well and it is still funny each and every time.

Edited to feature length from the original six-part British mini-series, Trip is consistently droll, even when not plundering the Sir Michael comedy store. Stylistically very different, Coogan and Brydon play off each other quite well. Their mostly improvised bickering banter is always razor sharp, but never overly caustic. Coogan even offers a spot of credibly understated drama as his own rather miserable self. Yet, the film will not afford him the opportunity of blaming his parents, presenting them as warmly supportive and not at all embarrassing (at least by parental standards) when Coogan and Brydon pop in for a quick visit.

Throughout The Trip, viewers also get a driving tour of the North, which looks quite picturesque through cinematographer Ben Smithard’s lens. Still, one suspects 111 minutes of the Lakeland district might be just about right, unless you have reservations at some of the elite restaurants Coogan and Brydon visit. Witty without getting too cute or annoyingly self-referential, The Trip is surprisingly entertaining, definitely recommended when it screens again Tuesday (4/26) and Saturday (4/30) during this year’s Tribeca Film Festival.

Teen Angst: What Goes Up

A burned out New York Times reporter falsifies a series of stories out of whole cloth—not exactly a shocking premise. Yet we are not supposed to judge Campbell Babbitt too harshly, because his motives are noble, well sort of. Aside from the fact that he has one of the greatest movie names in recent years, it is hard to get a handle on the troubled and troubling protagonist of Jonathan Glatzer’s pseudo-comedy What Goes Up (trailer here), opening this Friday in New York.

Babbitt has broken one iron-clad rule of journalism after another. The first was falling in love with a woman he was covering: “Angela,” the anonymous mother of young son murdered in a senseless street crime. When the crusading Angela takes her own life out of despair, Babbitt cannot bring himself to report the truth, fabricating multiple stories about her campaign against crime.

A complete basket case, Babbitt’s irritated editor assigns him the kind of human interest story he seems to specialize in: New Hampshire’s Christa McAuliffe, the first teacher in space. However, in this fictionalized treatment, McAuliffe’s high school has already suffered the untimely loss of one teacher when the broken-down Times scribe arrives. In a twist of fate, the late teacher was Sam Calalluci, an old friend of Babbitt’s.

Sensing a story, Babbitt exaggerates his relationship to Calalluci to win the trust of his grieving homeroom class. It works only too well, as his class of misfits adopts the morally comprised reporter as their new mentor figure. However, he is only too willing to get close to one student, Lucy Diamond, played by teen-aged “It-Girl” Hilary Duff, in one of Up’s several highly questionable subplots.

Up sees itself as a meditation on the reality and perception of real life heroes, which becomes painfully obvious from the ubiquitous presence of David Bowie’s “Heroes” in the soundtrack. Of course, the inevitable fate of Christa McAuliffe and the rest of the shuttle crew hangs over the film, putting a damper on the would-be comedic moments. It is a reality Glatzer never brings himself to deal with, ending the film shortly before the tragic launch.

Clearly, Glatzer and co-screenwriter Robert Lawson want to say much about the nature of heroism, but Up’s tone is so wildly inconsistent, the picture is ultimately a complete muddle. Steve Coogan seems to specialize in films that feature pivotal high school stage productions, but unlike Hamlet 2, he is allowed to keep his British accent here. In fact, he is quite convincing as the world-weary Babbitt. Unfortunately, he is often forced into smarmy situations which border on the outright criminal. Aside from Coogan and a surprisingly effective Duff, Up’s promising cast is largely wasted on stock characters, like the shrewish Penelope Little, played by SNL alumnus Molly Shannon.

At times, Up tries to be a thoughtful examination of the need to be inspired, particularly at a young age. However, it often degenerates into exploitative scenes of teenaged sexuality. While it has one or two interesting moments, Up just does not work as a film. It opens this Friday (5/29) in New York at the Quad.