David Wain's A Futile and Stupid Gesture may have premiered at the Sundance Film Festival just days ago, but the biopic of National Lampoon co-founder Doug Kenney is already available on Netflix. And while the streaming giant's approach to marketing remains an enigma (just look at the campaign for Duncan Jones's Mute), I'm never going to complain about getting the opportunity to watch movies almost instantaneously. Having viewed bits and pieces of National Lampoon documentary Drunk Stoned Brilliant Dead in the past, I was curious to see how a live-action treatment of the material would work. I have a fascination with the coke-fueled comedy that dominated the 1970s, and of course, I'm a huge fan of Animal House and several of the supporting players in this story.
While Wain's biopic may lack a complex, nuanced analysis of Doug Kenney's tortured psyche, I don't really think that's the point. Wain delivers an irreverent, madly entertaining look at the oddball geniuses who twisted comedy and permanently altered the American cultural landscape, and it's a breezy delight. With such a wealth of funny and ridiculous material, it'd be pretty difficult not to make this story compelling on some level. But Wain's inspired, outrageously meta approach makes it all look effortless, blending unique styles and conjuring up a sense of relentlessly energy to great effect. Led by the top-notch performances of Will Forte, Domhnall Gleeson, and Martin Mull, A Futile and Stupid Gesture is a both a warm-hearted, spirited look at a group of comedic masterminds and a clever deconstruction of the biopic format.
It's an interesting choice for Wain and screenwriters Michael Colton and John Aboud to rely on the idea that the audience is totally unfamiliar with the life of Doug Kenney. For example, Martin Mull plays an older version of Kenney, narrating the film and providing commentary on the action. Except here's the catch- Kenney died in 1980. National Lampoon fans (and anyone who did a Google search after watching the trailer) will know this, but the film plays with that device until the very end. It's a choice (Forte, as younger Kenney, says as much in a funny moment at the end), but it's one that seems to define this film's approach to its subject. The rules are thrown out the window, and the film has no qualms about acknowledging all of the ways that it twists the story and casts actors who don't exactly look like their real-life counterparts.
With the exception of a few flashbacks to childhood trauma, A Futile and Stupid Gesture mainly serves as a chronicle of the rise and fall of Kenney, told in a madcap style with so many fourth wall breaks that it feels like Scorsese to the extreme. It begins with Kenney and partner Henry Beard (Domhnall Gleeson) at the Harvard Lampoon, where a fear of tedious adulthood leads to the formation of National Lampoon magazine. From there, Kenney and Beard change the very nature of American comedy with their raunchy and incisive parodies, assembling a team of weirdos and outsiders to craft the latest cultural sensation. But as National Lampoon grows out of control, evolving into radio, television, and eventually movies, Kenney is forced to confront his own demons and keep everything afloat. Which, well, doesn't exactly work out.
It's undoubtedly a difficult task to make a great movie about the trials and tribulations of the National Lampoon gang, but I have to imagine that it's equally hard to make this story boring. Doug Kenney's life exists at the cross-section of comedy, politics, entertainment, and American culture in the 1970s, and his friends and co-workers are some of the funniest people in modern history. A Futile and Stupid Gesture may not be the dark and haunting examination of a reckless genius that some Lampoon fans and critics were hoping for, but how can anyone fault a movie that's this easy-going and consistently engaging? While the film's defiant attitude towards anything resembling seriousness could turn off some audiences, it makes for a rewarding and lively viewing experience. Wain doesn't shy away from showing the self-destructive tendencies of these comedic visionaries, but it's ultimately a joyous ode to what made them so lovably wild in the first place. And in the end, that's kind of the point of the Lampoon- these guys couldn't help but make jokes about everything, evidenced by the fact that every serious conversation is prefaced by someone saying "What's the bit?"
That balance between genuine pathos and manic energy is executed brilliantly by the film's ensemble cast, which is filled with familiar faces and comedy superstars. Will Forte obviously has the most to do as Kenney, the movie's primary subject, and he pulls off the role with a perfect blend of boyish exuberance and profound insecurity. The film seems to have a simple set of attributions for Kenney's ailments, but Forte keeps the character from ever veering too far into muddled territory. Forte is matched by the ever-terrific Domhnall Gleeson, who is marvelous as idiosyncratic co-founder Henry Beard. Their banter is wonderful, and Gleeson beautifully walks a thin line between charismatic wittiness and wise maturity. From there, the film is peppered with rich supporting turns for character actors and more famous faces. Thomas Lennon and Neil Casey are scene-stealers as some of Lampoon's more outrageous characters, Joel McHale actually does a pretty solid Chevy Chase impression, and Emmy Rossum brings some much-needed normalcy to the mayhem as longtime Kenney partner Kathryn Walker. And of course, there's Martin Mull, playing an acid-tongued version of Kenney that never existed.
A Futile and Stupid Gesture is a briskly paced, infinitely amusing look at the life of a unique American genius, and its wonderfully weird depiction of this insane true story really hits the spot. The filmmakers have a clear sense of love and adoration for the material, and you can feel that triumphant passion at every moment. It's certainly not perfect- despite its self-referential, "Scorsese lite" style, A Futile and Stupid Gesture doesn't reinvent the wheel, and there are times where I wish it had dug a little deeper in its analysis of Kenney and the Lampoon as a whole. It's also the kind of movie that probably could have used a more refined sense of visual composition, but that's a whole different discussion. Nonetheless, Wain's tongue-in-cheek approach is a blessing, and the film is a consistently charming blast. The buzz on this one may be quiet coming out of Sundance and in the thick of Oscar season, but it's a clever ride worth taking.
It's undoubtedly a difficult task to make a great movie about the trials and tribulations of the National Lampoon gang, but I have to imagine that it's equally hard to make this story boring. Doug Kenney's life exists at the cross-section of comedy, politics, entertainment, and American culture in the 1970s, and his friends and co-workers are some of the funniest people in modern history. A Futile and Stupid Gesture may not be the dark and haunting examination of a reckless genius that some Lampoon fans and critics were hoping for, but how can anyone fault a movie that's this easy-going and consistently engaging? While the film's defiant attitude towards anything resembling seriousness could turn off some audiences, it makes for a rewarding and lively viewing experience. Wain doesn't shy away from showing the self-destructive tendencies of these comedic visionaries, but it's ultimately a joyous ode to what made them so lovably wild in the first place. And in the end, that's kind of the point of the Lampoon- these guys couldn't help but make jokes about everything, evidenced by the fact that every serious conversation is prefaced by someone saying "What's the bit?"
That balance between genuine pathos and manic energy is executed brilliantly by the film's ensemble cast, which is filled with familiar faces and comedy superstars. Will Forte obviously has the most to do as Kenney, the movie's primary subject, and he pulls off the role with a perfect blend of boyish exuberance and profound insecurity. The film seems to have a simple set of attributions for Kenney's ailments, but Forte keeps the character from ever veering too far into muddled territory. Forte is matched by the ever-terrific Domhnall Gleeson, who is marvelous as idiosyncratic co-founder Henry Beard. Their banter is wonderful, and Gleeson beautifully walks a thin line between charismatic wittiness and wise maturity. From there, the film is peppered with rich supporting turns for character actors and more famous faces. Thomas Lennon and Neil Casey are scene-stealers as some of Lampoon's more outrageous characters, Joel McHale actually does a pretty solid Chevy Chase impression, and Emmy Rossum brings some much-needed normalcy to the mayhem as longtime Kenney partner Kathryn Walker. And of course, there's Martin Mull, playing an acid-tongued version of Kenney that never existed.
A Futile and Stupid Gesture is a briskly paced, infinitely amusing look at the life of a unique American genius, and its wonderfully weird depiction of this insane true story really hits the spot. The filmmakers have a clear sense of love and adoration for the material, and you can feel that triumphant passion at every moment. It's certainly not perfect- despite its self-referential, "Scorsese lite" style, A Futile and Stupid Gesture doesn't reinvent the wheel, and there are times where I wish it had dug a little deeper in its analysis of Kenney and the Lampoon as a whole. It's also the kind of movie that probably could have used a more refined sense of visual composition, but that's a whole different discussion. Nonetheless, Wain's tongue-in-cheek approach is a blessing, and the film is a consistently charming blast. The buzz on this one may be quiet coming out of Sundance and in the thick of Oscar season, but it's a clever ride worth taking.
THE FINAL GRADE: B+ (7.6/10)
Images courtesy of Netflix
Images courtesy of Netflix
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