Death at a Funeral

Chris Rock's face when someone tried to explain comedy to him.

There are movies that blend the macabre with slapstick very well. Most of these are British, who seem to have a certain affinity with the lighter side of death. Greats such as Monty Python, Rowan Atkinson and Matt Berry have made us laugh with their own patented brand of gallows humour that we seem to find curiously appealing. One in particular I’d like to talk about today is ‘Death at a Funeral’.

No. Nope.

Not that one.

The other one.

Yes, that one.

Whoever said “sarcasm is the lowest form of humour” has never heard of the Wayans brothers. But, as bad as they are (and they are very, very bad) at least their ideas were original; at some point in the past. I mean sure, they’ve flogged more dead horses than a kleptomaniac at a glue factory, but at least they’ve never done anything so blatantly lazy. And shit. Unless you count ‘White Chicks’ – which I classify as a movie the same way I classify taco bell as food. Or edible.

But enough about the unrelated, very related brothers. This review is about the 2010 version of Death at a Funeral. A shitty ‘remake’ that came out only 3 years after the original. This is a movie aimed at people without a formal education. Or an education at all from the look of it.  It holds none of the quirky charm of that the original has in lump sum. It’s about as enjoyable as pissing sawdust.

This is really less of a black comedy and more of a black comedy. And in this example I use the word ‘comedy’ in the broadest possible sense of the word. They didn’t just steal the general idea of the film; they used EVERYTHING, even the unfunny bit about the rash and the wrong body in the coffin gag. Not only is it entirely not funny, it’s not even a rip off. It’s an absolute copy and paste, with the words “shit” and “damn” thrown in sporadically. There is – and bear in mind this is an estimation – 1000% more black jokes. This is not a film for white people.

I’m not even sure it’s a film for black people.

At least things like Next Friday and The Nutty Professor were accessible to a wider audience.

The story is one we’ve already seen done better, so I won’t bother with the details. Let’s just say that these guys missed the point, on every front. You couldn’t miss more points if you were pining over a long lost bed of nails. Martin Lawrence just does his usual ‘yell a lot’ routine, only to be outshined by Tracy Morgan. James Marsden’s an idiot. Luke Wilson is as unlikable as ever. Chris Rock was only just bearable and Danny Glover is, according to general consensus, getting too old for this shit. And shit, they ever got the same dwarf. I suppose there’s probably a shortage of work in Hollywood for the vertically challenged.

Midgets are hilarious.

And, oh Keith David, is there nothing that you won’t do for a paycheque? You’re like the black William Shatner.

I believe remakes can be good, if still not better than the original. This is usually because the original was a classic that had passed into obscurity or cult-hood. Then a new director with a different vision can come along and interpret it for a new generation. Look at Dawn of the Dead. Nothing will ever replace George A. Romero’s masterpiece, but the new one has its own place in my heart as a fucking awesome film.

But for this movie they didn’t even wait until the DVD’s had cooled in their spindle to pump out a poorly thought out, poorly executed and generally poorly accepted ‘black person edition’. 3 years is hardly anything for a remake. That’s like buying a colouring book only to find all the pictures already coloured in. Then finding, in childish scribble, the name George Bush Jnr. scrawled on the inside page.

Now, I may be white, but I find this a little bit racist. It’s basically telling anyone darker than my morning coffee that the British version isn’t for them. So they had to dumb it down for them, and give it an ‘urban’ feel that they could comprehend. Maybe I’m reading into it too much, but that’s just my opinion. I mean, what’s next? Black Pride and Prejudice? “Shit, Charles. Dem bitches be straight up trippin’, yo.” I’m thinking Mike Epps as Mr Darcy here.

This ‘film’ is a testament to what you can do with blatant plagiarism and a complete lack of understanding of British comedy. The original was great. This one is just... well... shit. It’s about as much fun as passing a kidney stone. If the humour wasn't so very unfunny you could be forgiven for thinking that you were actally watching the original, but some bastard had turned the contrast on your TV way down. I'm almost surprised the tagline wasn't something atrocious like "You can't spell Funeral without Fun", which would be lost on its intended audience that just can't spell funeral. It adds nothing new, and instead spends an hour and twenty eight minutes tarnishing its predecessor. It should be taken out the back and shot. With exploding knives shaped like small sharks.

Don’t just take my word for it. Take everyone’s word for it. Except Roger Ebert, who seems to have given it 3.5 out of 4 stars, despite all rational logic. But then he also said it was “the best comedy since The Hangover”. So fuck him, and his wrong opinions. That’s why God gave you cancer, Ebert. You twat.

Abraham Lincoln would be turning over in his grave.

Myth

Nigga please, this is genuine shag pile.

I thought I’d mix it up a little bit for this review, so instead of going out to find the shittiest movies ever to come straight to DVD I decided to find one so shit that it would have to climb half a  dozen rungs to even be a straight to VHS release. Where can I find videos so awful that no one would ever want to see them? Youtube. That’s right, the bowels of the internet. A rank cesspit of idiotic white girls dancing to hip-hop and crazy religious nut-bags who think they can prove the existence of a god with peanut butter. What better place to spend a quiet afternoon? A Turkish prison, perhaps.

Don't get this confused with The Myth with Jackie Chan, and don’t ask me how I managed to find this video. The memories are still too raw and painful. Let’s say that I was fated to find this... thing. Like a scarcely polished turd sitting amidst slightly better polished turds in some crazy guys basement I found it, and I dared to press ‘play’. This is, without a shadow of a doubt, THE worst thing I have ever forced myself to sit through. And I watched all of ‘Coyote Ugly’.

The legend, or myth if you will, that revolves around this film is one of mystery, hope and destiny. The tales go that in the far off land of someplacia there was a young man attending a Sci-Fi convention where nerds and virgins came to dress in op-shop rejects and eat marshmallows. It was there that he was approached by a strange man with hair like spun gold. This strange man gave the young adventurer a device known only as a compact disc. Little did he know that this humble disc contained the greatest piece of refried shit our world, nay, any world, had ever seen.

Or as the YouTube user SatansGloryHole puts it; “I received a copy of this at a film convention from a strange man with long hair. A few days later I popped it in the DVD player and low and behold the worst movie I had ever seen... A horrible tale of Dragons and Faggotry. I think the world needs to see this and use it as a template of what to avoid when making a film.”

I kind of like that for a tagline to this movie. “A horrible tale of Dragons and Faggotry”. It pretty much sums it up in one sentence, if you could somehow manage to also include the word shitfuck thirty seven times. It’s a movie made by kids with Asperger’s. For kids with Asperger’s. Except that, unlike Rain Man, these kids don’t appear to be good at anything useful. It makes me want to wash down a bottle of Valium with cheap scotch, take a red pen and grade children’s homework – by drawing cocks all over it.

And now for what I will laughingly refer to as our story. The premise for this atrocity is mostly explained in generic on screen text and bored voiceovers to still images ruined by shitty filters. It’s about a Kingdom called... Mythendel... Really? Mythendel? Exactly how little effort did they put into this, guys? Can you round up from zero? Anyway, the throne falls to some arsehole ginger with obnoxious sideburns who decides he doesn’t really like his neighbours and wants to use Dragoon knights to beat them into submission. The dragoons are controlled by a fat wizard named Morok who I swear to god has a learning disability. He agrees to help the king out of fealty or general ignorance or whatnot, even though he is “the oldest and wisest” of the Relmen, the race of wizards that came from the heavens. That’s about all I could really dredge out of this cesspit.


The ‘production value’ (I use the term really loosely) is pretty much what these kids could find in their piggybanks. The costumes consist of tablecloths and shagpile carpet vests over... T-shirts and jeans? Fuck guys. At least try to look authentic. I highly doubt denim was a medieval fabric, let alone printed T’s. And your big brother’s football pads don’t count as armour, especially when it’s blue with lightning bolts painted on it.

Oh dear god, these guys are all fat virgins in terrible vests role playing out their gay fantasies of not living in mum’s garage. You can almost tell that their mum probably came on set with some juice and orange slices for lunch, and immediately felt a deep, suffocating shame.

In no specific order, I’m going to give points as to why this movie is bad. I should remind you that so far I have only managed to sit through 3 of 8 parts. So, let’s see why it sucks dog cocks:

• Cast consists entirely of spastic kids with speech impediments.
• Terrible wardrobe.
• Worse acting.
• Ridiculous plot.
• Horrid writing.
• Cliché as fuck.
• Mega, mega gay.
• The actors all seem to be reading their lines off the walls.
• They call dragon people Dragoon Knights
• The special effects (and I use the term ‘special’ here with every intended meaning) look as if they have been done in MSPaint

So we finally get to the end of the first part and we get more text stating that after 5 years of war Kane (the dragoon general) begins to question the wisdom of their King’s decision to kill everything around them, for, and I quote, “they are not fighting just soldiers or kings. They are slaying farmers and peasants.” Oh, so after 5 years of killing innocent poor people you then decide, “Hey, maybe this isn’t right. I should look into that.” It took you five fucking years to piece that together? Then we see some more bad teenage moustaches, bad accents and someone calls someone else and arsehole.

Oh dear Christ, this thing goes for 98 minutes. Time I will never get back. I feel dumber for having watched it; and you should all feel bad for making me sit through it. It’s just 98 minutes of pissing on JRR Tolkien’s grave, followed by a short session of defecating into Gary Gygax’s coffin.

Ok, so after having watched as much as I can physically handle, I have come to the conclusion that it’s actually subtle genius at work. So subtle in fact that is doesn’t actually exist. Human language, in all its splendour and intricacies, does not yet poses the words needed to describe how abhorrent this collection of broken scenes and disjointed dialogue is. It’s not unlike the macabre curiosity you get while approaching a car accident, only then to notice that the car belongs to your daughter, and that she is now a thin coat of lacquer on the footpath. I would rather eat warm seafood from a cheap hookers snatch than sit through another minute of this Mexican soap-opera style crap.

I did not believe one word or one emotion coming from a characters stunned and camera shy face. There is no empathy or connection to any of the characters. It’s as if they asked Tommy Wiseau to write and direct it, but he was utterly plastered off Domestos and Skittles at the time. It is hands down the worst cacophony of sub-mediocre acting and un-special effects that has ever been put to film. It makes Jackass 2 look like Citizen Kane. Costumes, scripts, lighting; they got none of it right. If this was a project for film school then you fucking failed.

To call the acting wooden would be an insult to even the most piss-weak sapling. The only character that isn’t inane or laughable (to the extent of the rest, at least) is the evil King, who’s red shaggy vest makes it look as if he skinned - and is wearing - Elmo. Also, he’s evil, and a bit of a dick. But because he is the only semi realistic character, you find yourself being drawn to him like a moth to a tea-light candle in an otherwise black night. What this is then is a bunch of sweaty neck-beards with learning disabilities acting out their perverted fantasies while dressed in Mardi Gras rejects and with obviously false authentic British accents. It’s actually sort of depressing.

Don’t watch it. Don’t even do it for a laugh. Like herpes, this shit will haunt you forever. Take this as a public service announcement. I have passed waste through my body that is more worthy of your attention. Seriously, one time one kind of looked like Conan O’Brien, if you squinted pretty hard.

Now if you’ll excuse me, I need to go eat cookies and cry in the shower.