Spy Hard stars Leslie Nielsen as Dick Steele (ha ha?), a secret-agent code-named WD-40 (ha?). Steele has to save the world, and a beautiful fellow agent, from the diabolical machinations of General Rancor, played by Andy Griffith (hee hee?).
Whether he does or not, I couldn't say.
I did stick it out for almost half an hour though, because it's my job. Because that's what I do. But there are times when even the glamour, the prestige, the respect, not to mention the extravagant salary, paid to a movie critic are simply not enough.
It wasn't just me, though. With the exception of the kid next to me whose burbling, nearly hysterical (and deeply disturbing), laughter erupted with each fart, each prat fall, each killing -- the rest of the audience of 12 year-olds sat stone-faced at Nielsen and crew's unamusing antics.
The unfunniness of Spy Hard was impressive. With the exception of the title sequence done by Weird Al Yankovic -- a parody of 007's aquatic musical opening -- which drew a giggle or two, Spy Hard was entirely laugh free.
Gone was the frenetic pacing, absurd transitions, unceasing puns, memorable lines and classic B-movie moments that made Airplane an instant hit. Gone, in a nut-shell, were the Zuckers. All that remained in Spy Hard (a Buena Vista -- read Disney -- release) is the shell of a genre and Leslie Nielsen, who isn't funny at all.
I knew it was time to go when Nielsen asked another character, "A briefcase, what is it?" The response, to anyone familiar with Airplane, was, if not copyright infringement, at least blasphemy.
It was as though Spy Hard expected us to laugh, not because there were actual jokes, but merely because it was the kind of movie at which people are supposed to laugh. It's funny when his partner/lover falls of a cliff and dies (hee?) because... It's funny when Leslie walks into a door frame (ho ho?) because...
After half of an hour of this sickening abuse I could take no more.
The Craft, a movie about hot teenage girls who become witches, was playing next door, and it started to sound pretty good. Sadly, it was between showings.
That narrowed things down to Heaven's Prisoners.
Heaven's Prisoners stars an extremely damp Alec Baldwin as ex-cop, ex-alcoholic, Dave Robicheax who lives out on the bayou with his beautiful, angular wife, Annie (Kelly Lynch).
Apparently (I missed the first 20 minutes or so) there was some kind plane crash and the only survivor is a little Salvadoran girl who is welcomed into the Robicheax's childless home. I deduced that another passenger on the plane was a drug runner who was secretly working for the DEA. The point is Dave has to find out the what happened to that plane in order to keep his new family safe.
Tragedy strikes when he looks too hard and attracts the wrong kind of attention. This has the unfortunate consequence of getting his wife shotgunned to death. Now Dave is out for revenge.
Directed by Phil Joanou, Heaven's Prisoners is beautifully photographed -- the steamy, monochrome of the bayou and run-down New Orleans glow unhealthfully beneath Joanou's lens. Teri Hatcher, of Lois and Clark fame, also glows, though not unhealthfully, in Joanou's lens. Trying to shake her good girl TV image, Hatcher plays the often naked, always drunk, wife of a good old boy drug-dealer, Bubba Rochque (Eric Roberts).
Though the accents of the principles (Roberts excepted) tend to come and go on some kind of linguistic tide, the acting is passable, if not inspired.
Where Prisoners fails is in an overly elaborate plot, characters who come and go without much point, and stuttering pacing. The action never takes off -- whatever tension is built is defused almost immediately by the appearance of a new character or another plot twist.
Whatever pleasure there was to be had in Heaven's Prisoners though, was obscured by recurring visions of Spy Hard -- visions which I fear may haunt my movie going for some time.
The two movies are not entirely dissimilar. Both begin with aircraft exploding (helicopters in Spy Hard, airplane in Prisoners). Both have to kill the main character's women to get the ball rolling. And both Alec Baldwin and Leslie Nielsen are continually getting their faces bashed in. Why is one of these supposed to be funny? Why is the other not?
Would you laugh if a man was taken out and shot in cold blood? Would you laugh if he was a mime? People in Hollywood are gambling a lot of money on the belief that you will.
I think it was Noel Coward who said, "Death is easy, comedy is hard." But until this weekend I didn't realize that it applied to the audience too.