I Have a Completely Rational Hatred for Mark Duplass
The fourth season of FX’s The League doesn’t premiere for a couple months yet, but that doesn’t mean its stars haven’t kept busy. Paul Scheer filmed a second season of Adult Swim’s NTSF:SD:SUV:: this spring. Nick Kroll is working on the Nick Show Kroll for Comedy Central. And Mark Duplass, the ostensible lead of The League, has no less than five movies coming out this summer, which is somewhat ridiculous.
I’ve always had problems with Duplass on The League. Considering the ensemble around him, he always felt like the odd man out. The show already has a much more relatable and sympathetic comic foil in Stephen Rannazzisi, yet Duplass’ acting style isn’t manic or bizarre enough to compete with Scheer, Kroll or Jon Lajoie. He has the demeanor of an everyman but works with material better suited for a more exaggerated character. In other words, he’s the one annoying aspect of an otherwise great show.
I’ve wondered if this was just a result of poor casting. Considering Mark Duplass is somewhat of an indie film darling, having served as a leading figure in the mumblecore movement, I thought it might just be that he didn’t really fit in with The League, which isn’t necessarily his fault. It could be a similar situation to that of former Parks and Recreation cast member Paul Schneider, the proto-normal guy who never really gelled with the rest of the ensemble (Adam Scott basically stepped into that same role when Schneider left the show and has proved a much better fit).
Until recently the only other work I had seen Duplass in was Lynn Shelton’s Humpday, a movie I thought was couldn’t quite handle its high concept plot, and I hadn’t seen any of his directorial efforts with his brother Jay Duplass. But this summer is making me feel that Duplass in general is just an overrated talent. His performance in Your Sister’s Sister, another Lynn Shelton movie, fell completely flat despite the fact that he was working with two actors in Emily Blunt and Rosemarie DeWitt who tonally should be a good match for him. Meanwhile, his work in the Aubrey Plaza-starring time travel comedy Safety Not Guaranteed runs into many of the same issues that hinder him in The League - he is given a character who is a bit extreme and out there, but Duplass just doesn’t seem capable of “out there” characters.
Conclusion:The League’s creators didn’t just screw up in casting Duplass. Duplass screwed up in being Duplass. If that makes any sense. Which it probably doesn’t.
While writing today’s review I found myself stealing so heavily from Mike D'Angelo’s review from the A.V. Club that I figured I’ll let you take a look at it and then we’ll talk a bit more about it? Okay? Okay.
The problem with sketch comics making feature-length movies is pretty basic: They’ve been trained to think in five-minute bursts. Establish the premise, escalate it quickly, find a punchline, move along. The State alumni Robert Ben Garant and Thomas Lennon would seem to be exceptions, since they’ve written multiple traditional comedies (Night At The Museum, The Pacifier), as well as a book about screenwriting. And yet Hell Baby, their joint directorial debut (Garant previously directed Balls Of Fury solo), functions exactly like a sketch movie, using its meager, essentially irrelevant plot as a clothesline upon which to string a series of self-contained bits. At least half of the bits are pretty damn funny, though, and that’s arguably all that matters.
Given all the tired Paranormal Activity parodies out there, Hell Baby gets bonus points for not riffing on any specific horror movie, though a Rosemary’s Baby vibe comes with the premise. While Leslie Bibb is the hugely pregnant mother, it’s expectant dad Rob Corddry who does most of the fretting after the couple move into a scarily dilapidated house (dubbed “House Of Blood,” among other cheery epithets, by the locals) and weird shit begins happening, starting with mood swings by Bibb that clearly go well beyond any hormonal imbalance. Eventually, a couple of priests (Garant and Lennon) drop by to perform an exorcism, though not before the house has been spiritually cleansed by Bibb’s New Age sister (Riki Lindhome) and repeatedly invaded by a creepy homeless dude (Keegan Michael Key) with zero sense of social propriety.
Garant and Lennon have an affinity for lowbrow, gross-out humor, and a tendency to beat jokes into the ground, both of which are embodied here in gags involving naked women—one a misshapen granny (Alex Berg—yes, a man) who wanders into Corddry’s bed to blow him; the other, Lindhome’s kooky sister, who doesn’t cover up after Corddry accidentally barges in on her in the shower. Lindhome deserves credit for making this scene blithely hilarious, but the entire gag exhausts itself long before it’s over. And that pretty much sums up Hell Baby, which is evenly divided, joke-wise, between complete non-starters and uproarious setpieces that overstay their welcome. There are blissful exceptions: A montage of characters scarfing down po’ boys improves with repetition, and Key, as the omnipresent “neighbor,” somehow transforms a single sublime note of amiable obliviousness into a silly symphony. His character is so tangentially related to the story that he’d arguably fit in just about any movie—or any sketch, for that matter—but so long as viewers are laughing, who cares?
You can’t really expect much from a movie titled “Hell Baby”. Now throw in some sketch comedy heavyweights like Rob Cordry and Keegan-Michael Key and things start looking up. Now consider the fact it’s written and directed by the juggernaut duo behind Reno 911, Night at the Museum, and Writing Movies for Fun and Profit, Robert Ben Garant and Thomas Lennon you might start thinking that there’s something to this little spoof. Well that would be your first mistake. Going into this movie with any kind of expectations of its quality or comedy will certainly ruin it for you. But if, for a couple of hours, you can clear your mind, accept what’s happening, take the good, and leave the bad then Hell Baby might just be worth a little of your time.
So many parts of this crappy little movie are pee you pants hilarious while just as many are things I wish I could unsee. Keegan-Michael Key is as genuinely funny as I’ve ever seen him and Rob Corddry is inspired as the straight man (for once) to the rest of the ensemble’s insanity. The gross out low brow stuff Garant and Lennon are so fond of are perhaps the least rewarding parts of the movie. It’s unfortunate because there are so many good parts that it feels like with a little extra effort it could have been a legitimately good spoof.
But I have a sneaking suspicion about Hell Baby: It wasn’t made for us. There is so much improvisation, so much chemistry, and so much that looks like a total blast to shoot. With the wide range of comedy muscle, sheer size of the ensemble, and minuscule budget you can be certain no one did this for the money. And well… come on, anyone who watches the movie knew it wasn’t going to be a commercial success. But who cares? Because this is the kind of movie that my friends and I would totally make just for the fun of making it. If a few of those friends happen to have wildly successful TV shows, and the writer/directors other films have grossed half a billion dollars in theaters, then so be it. We’re just going to have that much more wiggle room to have that much more fun. Ultimately I can’t recommend that anyone should actually see this movie, despite how much I loved it and how often I almost threw up from laughing. But I can tell you that if anyone else wants to make a Hell Baby 2, I’ll be first in line to help.
Christian and Victoria Sparro have run the State Sex-League for the last five years, ever since their own retirement from the League’s active roster. Couple’s Champions ever since they had met in the League’s Inter-office competition, they had set records not only for number of orgasms reached and cum-shots achieved but in the amount of damage done to the wrecked offices that served as their savage battlegrounds. Taking control of the State League after defeating the former Co-presidents in a brutal and uncompromising ‘Fuck-to-the-finish’ that had nearly crippled their unlucky opponents their tenure has been described as both fair and tyrannical as they have reshaped the League to guarantee the fans the most ferocious and determined of sexual competitors.
After each would-be Sex-fighter is done with their interviews and medical testing with the League officials, the Sparro’s are sure to put the neophyte Sex-fighter through their paces in a private meeting. Those lucky or skilled enough to pass this final test are sent on to League sponsors with the full confidence of the State Sex-League behind them. Those that fail leave broken and shattered husks of their former selves.
