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Creating high-concept cinema can be an art form but is also an exercise in logic. A wholly unique premise can find its own plot if guided by a creative mind. This has been the case with the freshest of classics, such as The Truman Show, Inception, or even Snakes on a Plane. It’s important to note, however, that a high concept does not make great cinema in and of itself.
Take Peter Farrelly’s 2003 comedy about conjoined twins with an identity problem (Stuck on You) or his 2001 film about a man who’s hypnotized so that he only sees women’s inner beauty despite them being unattractive on the outside (Shallow Hal). For decades, the filmmaker has been making these irreverent comedies from outlandish ideas that someone might have when they’re waiting in line at the DMV. Aside from a couple of winners (literally and cult-wise), Farrelly has hardly managed to get past the idea stage in most of them.
via YouTubeWith his latest film, Ricky Stanicky, Farrelly, who directs and co-writes (with seven other individuals), can’t ever bring justification to the elevator pitch. But in all honesty, I’m not really sure it’s possible for the plot to go anywhere beyond its promising premise: three friends (played by Zac Efron, Jermaine Fowler, and Andrew Santino) invent an imaginary person who they can blame every time they get into trouble. As kids, they accidentally set a neighbor’s house on fire and leave behind a shirt with the name “Ricky Stanicky” on the tag. But as adults, they develop him into a full-fledged person with hobbies, careers, and even illnesses. Every time they want to escape their significant others, they claim it’s because Ricky needs their help with something. It’s a stretch, even for a comedy movie, but how else are they going to justify all of these fantastic jokes?
Pressured by their families to finally meet Ricky, the guys hire a random guy they meet in Atlantic City to play the part. Rod (John Cena) is a sociopathic alcoholic, but also happens to be an aspiring actor who commits himself wholeheartedly to the role. The premise manifests itself about halfway through at an bris ceremony that lasts for nearly 45 minutes of screen time, during which Rod/Ricky meets everyone necessary in order for the plot to continue precipitating itself.
As the story galumphs along with no real place to go, we’re sitting in the audience mulling over the logic of what we’re seeing — or being told, rather — on screen. Is going to Atlantic City for an EDM show or to North Carolina for the Little League World Series worth perpetuating this elaborate lie to the people who love you the most? Are those specific things even fun once you’re in your thirties? (The answer to both of those questions are the same.)
We quickly discover how unsustainable this premise is and how contrivance rather than natural sequence is necessary to drag us to the finish line. Eventually, the film turns into a haphazard dissertation on the reason why people are dishonest — although it never really examines the issue in any meaningful way. Instead, the theme feels like an afterthought that could have been more effective if it had been embedded into the story more.
Also, apparently we’re just supposed to ignore any ramifications these guys would have had for the actual illegal things they (as Ricky Stanicky) did when they were young. Following the cold open that results in the creation of Ricky Stanicky, there’s a title scene that shows us just how many times a police report was filed on the non-existent troublemaker all those years ago. The implied lore of this sequence might actually be the most interesting part of the entire film — and one that’s never revisited later on (honestly, the montage was probably added in post-production anyway).
Cena does well, like always, with the sprawling requirements of his comedic role and yet the film fortunately never turns into a star vehicle. Efron’s Dean remains the protagonist through and through and has enough gravity on screen to do so. He also has solid support from Fowler and Santino, as well as William H. Macy as his formidable yet hilariously unpredictable boss who’s simultaneously threatened by and in awe of Ricky.
Admittedly, Farrelly’s comedic chops may have dwindled a bit but his comedic identity is still as fearless as his days of Dumb and Dumber and Shallow Hal. Despite evolving in decent ways in the third act, Ricky Stanicky is still yet another high concept turned into a low concept. It’s refreshing to see an R-rated comedy in today’s fussy climate — especially one as brassy as this, but I wish it was in service of a better, and funnier, movie.