Count the flying feces: Gross-out prevails
The occasion was the premiere of Universal's "The Nutty Professor II: The Klumps," a comedy that seems destined to win this summer's gross-out derby.
This may come as disturbing news to the Farrelly brothers, who seemed to be champs of this genre, but their entry, "Me, Myself & Irene," plays like a Doris Day movie relative to "Scary Movie" or "Nutty II."
All the Farrellys could come up with was a chicken affixed to some poor guy's posterior, which seems downright bland compared with the penis protruding from "Scary Movie" or the fusillade of fart, erection and feces jokes offered up by Eddie Murphy and crew.
Now I'm not going to embark on one of those "moral compass" lectures -- we'll be hearing enough of them at the upcoming political conventions.
I actually like gross-out movies, some of them, anyway, but I'm beginning to wonder where the genre is taking us.
From these latest effusions, it's clear they're not competing for laughs, just jolts. We're seeing wit fade before the onslaught of what Mel Brooks used to call "dolt and filth."
And all with the blessing of those once-stern taskmasters at the motion picture code. "Scary Movie," penis and all, got an R, while "Nutty II" mysteriously was awarded a PG-13.
EACH SUMMER, a new boundary is crossed. "There's Something About Mary" introduced semen as a comedic prop. "Scary Movie" broke the penis barrier. "Nutty II" demolishes just about everything else. Suddenly, early gross-out entries like "Animal House" seem like "Mary Poppins."
One could legitimately argue that inhibitions have been vanquished from other arenas as well. Monica Lewinsky and friend helped make those two delightful words, "semen stain," commonplace on the TV news and in the halls of Congress.
In Joe Eszterhas' new book, "American Rhapsody," entire sections of deathless prose are attributed to Bill Clinton's member. Rap lyrics routinely incorporate epithets that would embarrass a vice cop.
While it may be unfair to point the finger at gross-out movies, it's nonetheless relevant to fret about their impact on the art of comedy.
There was a time when directors like Capra, Sturges or Wilder held down center stage in the movie business. They and their colleagues delivered laughs in the context of some serious issues. Some of their efforts even bordered on -- perish the thought -- satire.
TODAY, THERE'S growing evidence that the fart jokes are driving out legitimate comedy.
"My Best Friend's Wedding" was a hit, but was that the end of a cycle rather than the beginning? "Analyze This" was sharp; Steve Martin's "Bowfinger" downright inspired. Where are their equivalents this summer?
You have to feel sorry for the likes of Jim Carrey and Robin Williams and, indeed, Eddie Murphy, outstanding comedic talents all. Yet you sense their desperation. Williams keeps turning up in mawkish roles. Carrey seemed wasted in films like "The Cable Guy" and "Man on the Moon."
Isn't anyone out there writing for them?
In his book, "Conversations With Wilder," Cameron Crowe quotes the great old filmmaker ruminating about the problems of doing comedy.
"You have to be serious to direct a good comedy," Wilder said, reminding us that in comedy, the main characters are usually in pain. The shrewd storyteller knows, however, when to toss his protagonist a "rare victory -- one he did not expect," he said.
WILDER FELT a certain rivalry with the other masters of the craft working in his time -- Joe Mankiewicz and Norman Krasna, among them.
There were some 104 writers toiling away under contract at Paramount back then, many of them superbly talented. He recalled, "We did 50 movies a year back then, but we wrote 150."
I have a feeling there were some damned good laughs even in the rejects. Some good laughs, but nary a flying fece.
