Ted 2
We pretty much know what to expect from Seth MacFarlane by now, don’t we? Crude, often sophomoric gags heavy on pop culture references, celebrity cameos and non sequiturs, with some musical numbers worked in to boot.
By that scorecard, Ted 2 is definitely a Seth MacFarlane movie and, like most of his work, sometimes it’s really, really funny.
We catch up with the “thunder buddies” to find John (Mark Wahlberg) has gotten divorced and Ted (voiced by MacFarlane) is getting married. But after only one year of marriage, Ted and Tami-Lynn (Jessica Barth) are not happy. They make the hasty decision that a child is the answer, but find some roadblocks to parenthood, both anatomical and otherwise.
Ted’s frequent buzz is killed when he learns that, in the eyes of the state, a teddy bear come to life is not really a person, and he’ll have to fight for his civil rights. That news spurs a team-up with a rookie lawyer (Amanda Seyfried) and a quest to prove that Ted has the right to take the inspired last name of “Clubberlang” and become a legally recognized husband and father.
The obvious parallels with current equality issues are commendable, but MacFarlane has no intention of going soft. Jokes about race and sexual orientation are plentiful, making sure we know everyone is fair game, including Seyfried, the good sport target of several “big eyed” barbs.
There are some downright hilarious moments (especially John on bad weed and the gang’s trip to Comic Con) but Ted 2 still feels about fifteen minutes too long. When you talk with friends after the film, you’ll probably quote enough scenes to make the entire thing seem like a non-stop gut buster, but it isn’t.
There are several stretches where the laughs are light, plus one very promising parody of Planes, Trains and Automobiles that sadly goes nowhere. And, it should go without saying that if you’re easily offended, Ted 2 will easily offend you.
Even more than the first go round, John and Ted’s new adventure wants to be a foul-mouthed Big. It doesn’t always work, but if you don’t mind a bit rougher recess, play on.
Me and Earl and the Dying Girl
Whatever its flaws and familiarities, Me and Earl and the Dying Girl delivers a heartfelt, understated but affecting punch.
The “Me” of the title is Greg (the ageless Thomas Mann), who describes himself as “terminally awkward, with a face like a little groundhog.” Greg treasures the anonymity he’s carved out by being superficially accepted and forgotten by every clique in his school. He and his best friend Earl (RJ Cyler), whom he considers more of a co-worker, hide out at lunch in the history teacher’s office, and make movie parodies (A Sockwork Orange, Pooping Tom) in their spare time.
Then Greg’s mom (Connie Britton) insists that he befriend Rachel (Olivia Cooke), who’s been diagnosed with leukemia.
Yep, it’s a quirky coming-of-age dramedy with cancer overtones. Who’d have thought this would become such a popular concept?
Regardless of the well-worn terrain, the film offers a bright, often unpredictable charm mixed with a wonderfully morbid sense of humor. All performances are solid, especially that of Molly Shannon as the bubbly yet grieving and usually drunk mother.
Director Alfonso Gomez-Rejon cuts a new career path with this indie dramedy, but he and screenwriter Jesse Andrews (adapting his own novel) miss a pretty important point.
No matter who you are or how many friends you had or how many parties you went to, you probably remember your high school self as socially awkward. Nothing fuels a coming-of-age film quite like this idea, when usually the protagonist (and maybe the writer, and nearly every teen in history) is just burdened by narcissism and self-loathing. It’s a small but important distinction, and one that very few coming-of-age tales get right. Getting that tiny point right is the difference between a work of genius like Napoleon Dynamite and a self-congratulatory confection like The Perks of Being a Wallflower.
Me and Earl and the Dying Girl is considerably better than most films that miss that point, but it still misses it. The perfectly likeable protagonist believes himself to be terminally awkward and what he needs is for the one-dimensional (if truly likeable) characters around him to show him he’s actually pretty great. That is, to placate his narcissism while soothing his self-loathing as they gain nothing themselves.
Most of us remember some coming-of-age film from our own adolescence with needless but genuine nostalgia and affection. Me and Earl and the Dying Girl can be that movie – The Breakfast Club or Grease or Mean Girls for this generation. But, like most teens, it can’t quite get past itself to become great.
Max
No doubt you’ve seen the photos of military service dogs lying in despair beside a casket or headstone, silently grieving for a fallen handler. Heartbreaking.
At its core, Max is a film with a worthy goal – salute these dogs and the work they do. But that goal gets lodged between an after school special adventure and some pretty blatant armed forces recruitment.
The canine Max is a Belgian Malinois Shepherd and a dedicated Marine, serving in Afghanistan alongside his handler Kyle (Robbie Arnell). Kyle’s family members, including former Marine dad (Thomas Haden Church), loving helpmate mom (Lauren Graham) and disgruntled teen brother Justin (Josh Wiggins), are shocked when Kyle is killed in action, and subsequently agree to adopt Max after he’s deemed too distraught for continued service.
Director/co-writer Boaz Yakin (Remember the Titans) provides one dimensional characters full of shallow dialogue, with clearly marked heroes and villains amid swelling music in case you miss any Lifetime channel melodrama. From there, the film suddenly becomes a race for three kids on bikes with a hero dog to bring down a weapons dealer who’s in cahoots with the local sheriff.
Wait, arms dealer? Yep, and there might be drugs involved, too!
Okay, if you’re aiming no higher than ‘tween sensibilities and ‘just say no,’ I get it, and who can dislike this dog? There’s even one surprisingly tender scene where Justin comforts an anxious Max during a fireworks show, a nicely subtle reminder of the different battles many veterans face once they return home.
But that last act…oh my. Any hint of subtly is forgotten via a highly contrived finale intent on marking military service (and more specifically, actual battle) as a required rite of passage for manhood. All that’s missing is the dramatic voiceover.
There’s probably a nice family film buried somewhere deep in Max, but once the bullets start flying and the bridges start exploding, you’d need a bloodhound to find it.
Read more of my reviews at MaddWolf.com!