The Heartbreak Kid
Directed by Peter & Bobby Farrelly
Once Peter and Bobby Farrelly introduced gross-out humor to the mainstream (a transgression sanctioned by the popularity of There’s Something About Mary), they went on to make richer, less gag-oriented movies: the brilliant Me, Myself and Irene, the profound Stuck on You and the believably nuanced Fever Pitch—which is the best romantic comedy of the past decade.
But a funny thing happened on the Farrellys’ way to maturity. They were out-grossed by the calculated smarm of Judd Apatow, who bowdlerized the Farrelly’s blatancy with the TV-style gimmicks of The 40-Year-Old Virgin and Knocked Up. Now, to get a rise of the Apatow-infected public, the Farrellys have over-vulgarized their newest film The Heartbreak Kid. While their Fever Pitch remake had original feeling, The Heartbreak Kid imitates a near-classic, the 1972 film directed by Elaine May from a Neil Simon screenplay adaptation of a Bruce Jay Friedman story.
The Farrelly Brothers never needed a legacy; they’re fairly innovative vulgarians redeemed by a genuine humanist appreciation of eccentricity, infirmity and misfortune. Their inclusion of handicapped characters isn’t a freakazoid gimmick, but a display of open-hearted acceptance (climaxing with the Siamese twins of Stuck on You and the Farrellys producing the exuberant Special Olympics comedy, The Ringer.) But Farrelly humanism clashes with the sophisticated anti-schmaltz of The Heartbreak Kid. May and Simon went beyond their typical comedy, making a rare critique of ethnic self-hatred and cultural hubris—their Jewish protagonist dumps his nightmare haimish bride for a shiksa dream. It was a politicized rebuke of The Graduate’s mainstreaming falsehoods.
However, in the Farrelly version, Eddie Cantrow (Ben Stiller) rejects a blond, WASP ideal (Malin Akerman) for a dark-haired Southern Baptist ideal (Michelle Monaghan). Ethnicity is no longer an obstacle, which means the protagonist’s obsession is no longer relatable; it’s just crazed. Eddie is less sympathetic than the 1972 Lenny who provided a classic character study of ethnic embarrassment and upscale ambition. (He suggested a Jewish version of Jack Nicholson’s Five Easy Pieces malcontent.) All that’s left for an Apatow-crude age is not recognition of ethnic self-consciousness, just a series of profane, scatological jokes about queefing, rough sex and culture-snobbery. Many of these puns are funny (especially the most outrageous beaver gag in movie history), but the result is often repellant. Stiller’s creep justifies himself by resorting to Woody Allen’s foul alibi: “I can’t help it. The heart wants what it wants.” We deserve better than this and expect better from the Farrellys.
Directed by Peter & Bobby Farrelly
Once Peter and Bobby Farrelly introduced gross-out humor to the mainstream (a transgression sanctioned by the popularity of There’s Something About Mary), they went on to make richer, less gag-oriented movies: the brilliant Me, Myself and Irene, the profound Stuck on You and the believably nuanced Fever Pitch—which is the best romantic comedy of the past decade.
But a funny thing happened on the Farrellys’ way to maturity. They were out-grossed by the calculated smarm of Judd Apatow, who bowdlerized the Farrelly’s blatancy with the TV-style gimmicks of The 40-Year-Old Virgin and Knocked Up. Now, to get a rise of the Apatow-infected public, the Farrellys have over-vulgarized their newest film The Heartbreak Kid. While their Fever Pitch remake had original feeling, The Heartbreak Kid imitates a near-classic, the 1972 film directed by Elaine May from a Neil Simon screenplay adaptation of a Bruce Jay Friedman story.
The Farrelly Brothers never needed a legacy; they’re fairly innovative vulgarians redeemed by a genuine humanist appreciation of eccentricity, infirmity and misfortune. Their inclusion of handicapped characters isn’t a freakazoid gimmick, but a display of open-hearted acceptance (climaxing with the Siamese twins of Stuck on You and the Farrellys producing the exuberant Special Olympics comedy, The Ringer.) But Farrelly humanism clashes with the sophisticated anti-schmaltz of The Heartbreak Kid. May and Simon went beyond their typical comedy, making a rare critique of ethnic self-hatred and cultural hubris—their Jewish protagonist dumps his nightmare haimish bride for a shiksa dream. It was a politicized rebuke of The Graduate’s mainstreaming falsehoods.
However, in the Farrelly version, Eddie Cantrow (Ben Stiller) rejects a blond, WASP ideal (Malin Akerman) for a dark-haired Southern Baptist ideal (Michelle Monaghan). Ethnicity is no longer an obstacle, which means the protagonist’s obsession is no longer relatable; it’s just crazed. Eddie is less sympathetic than the 1972 Lenny who provided a classic character study of ethnic embarrassment and upscale ambition. (He suggested a Jewish version of Jack Nicholson’s Five Easy Pieces malcontent.) All that’s left for an Apatow-crude age is not recognition of ethnic self-consciousness, just a series of profane, scatological jokes about queefing, rough sex and culture-snobbery. Many of these puns are funny (especially the most outrageous beaver gag in movie history), but the result is often repellant. Stiller’s creep justifies himself by resorting to Woody Allen’s foul alibi: “I can’t help it. The heart wants what it wants.” We deserve better than this and expect better from the Farrellys.
