Writer/director Chris Dowling is not funny. He might be able to pick funny out of a police lineup. Funny may have said "hi" to him in the office, one day. He may have even taken funny out for a drink. But after watching this film, I can say with absolute authority that Chris Dowling is NOT funny.
Now, he might be clever. I could believe that Dowling was one of those guys who floats along the edge of other's conversations and chimes in every so often with a pithy quip. There are a couple of notions rattling around inside this script and a few moments where you can tell that Dowling has at least put some thought into they way he's telling this story. But just as Tina Fay and the folks at 30 Rock have bitterly learned though years of poor ratings, clever is not at all the same thing as funny.
A meandering spoof of the 1940s private eye flick that turns into a toothless satire of Scientology, virtually every laugh, snicker or smile produced by this motion picture happens in spite of Dowling's efforts. Once you get beyond the basic concepts of the story, the writing is incredibly lazy with jokes that aren't so much told as put out of their misery. The plot is atrociously structured, with the first half of the movie turning out to be nothing more than an exercise in killing time. The cast is clearly giving it the old college try, but are far too often left to flounder around on screen by Dowling's witless direction.
Rock Slyde (Patrick Warburton) is a private investigator who looks, acts and self-narrates like a character out of a Raymond Chandler novel, except when the movie needs him to arbitrarily abandon those conceits for ever worsening punchlines. Sadly, within 30 seconds of watching him it become obvious that Warburton could be great at this kind of role. He's got the physical presence and total sincerity to make a guy like this really funny, which makes it doubly painful to see Warburton slide into lackadaisical indifference because Dowling hasn't got a clue what to do with him.
Slyde is hired by a beautiful woman (Rena Sofer) to find out who's following her, while also dealing with the bothersome cult leader (Andy Dick) who wants to evict Slyde from his office. Throw in Slyde's secretary getting brainwashed by the cult, a pointless scattering of celebrities in supporting roles and the use of gay pirate musicals as a major plot point, and that's the whole shebang.
I can't think of a single way that Rock Slyde could be considered a success. It sucks at making fun of 1940s private eye clichés. It sucks at making fun of Scientology. There are barely any laughs in it at all. It never looks any better than some low-rent sitcom.
Let me leave you with an example of how bad this thing is. There's a character here who is supposed to be funny because he has a German accent. That's it. He doesn't say anything particularly humorous or have any other comedic traits, not even a love for David Hasselhoff. He just has a German accent and that, by itself, is supposed to elicit guffaws from the viewer. Unless that sort of thing tickles you, take a pass on this film.
Now, he might be clever. I could believe that Dowling was one of those guys who floats along the edge of other's conversations and chimes in every so often with a pithy quip. There are a couple of notions rattling around inside this script and a few moments where you can tell that Dowling has at least put some thought into they way he's telling this story. But just as Tina Fay and the folks at 30 Rock have bitterly learned though years of poor ratings, clever is not at all the same thing as funny.
A meandering spoof of the 1940s private eye flick that turns into a toothless satire of Scientology, virtually every laugh, snicker or smile produced by this motion picture happens in spite of Dowling's efforts. Once you get beyond the basic concepts of the story, the writing is incredibly lazy with jokes that aren't so much told as put out of their misery. The plot is atrociously structured, with the first half of the movie turning out to be nothing more than an exercise in killing time. The cast is clearly giving it the old college try, but are far too often left to flounder around on screen by Dowling's witless direction.
Rock Slyde (Patrick Warburton) is a private investigator who looks, acts and self-narrates like a character out of a Raymond Chandler novel, except when the movie needs him to arbitrarily abandon those conceits for ever worsening punchlines. Sadly, within 30 seconds of watching him it become obvious that Warburton could be great at this kind of role. He's got the physical presence and total sincerity to make a guy like this really funny, which makes it doubly painful to see Warburton slide into lackadaisical indifference because Dowling hasn't got a clue what to do with him.
Slyde is hired by a beautiful woman (Rena Sofer) to find out who's following her, while also dealing with the bothersome cult leader (Andy Dick) who wants to evict Slyde from his office. Throw in Slyde's secretary getting brainwashed by the cult, a pointless scattering of celebrities in supporting roles and the use of gay pirate musicals as a major plot point, and that's the whole shebang.
I can't think of a single way that Rock Slyde could be considered a success. It sucks at making fun of 1940s private eye clichés. It sucks at making fun of Scientology. There are barely any laughs in it at all. It never looks any better than some low-rent sitcom.
Let me leave you with an example of how bad this thing is. There's a character here who is supposed to be funny because he has a German accent. That's it. He doesn't say anything particularly humorous or have any other comedic traits, not even a love for David Hasselhoff. He just has a German accent and that, by itself, is supposed to elicit guffaws from the viewer. Unless that sort of thing tickles you, take a pass on this film.