Comment

Feb 06, 2015Nursebob rated this title 4 out of 5 stars
Things are not going well on the jungle set of Tropic Thunder, a big budget Viet Nam epic based on the wartime memoirs of gruff and reclusive Sgt. “Four Leaf” Tayback. Not only does the director have to contend with technical screw-ups but he also finds himself playing nursemaid to a cast of Hollywood prima donnas; among them a heroin-snorting party animal (Jack Black, true to form), a semi-talented rap star, a fussy leading man (Ben Stiller, surprisingly un-annoying), and a faded Aussie matinee idol who underwent “racial reassignment” surgery in order to play a tough, jive-talking brother (Robert Downey Jr. in what should have been an Oscar-winning performance). At his wits’ end the director takes Tayback’s advice and dumps the actors in the middle of a nearby rain forest with instructions to find their way back to base camp while staying in character. Armed only with prop weapons and a map, the men ham it up as best they can while hidden cameras record their every move and surprise pyrotechnics keep them off guard. Unfortunately, unbeknownst to cast and crew, this particular rainforest is run by a ruthless drug cartel and their diminutive warlord who mistake the bumbling performers for an invading American army. Filled with hilarious celebrity cameos and an acerbic humour that harpoons everything from Tinseltown politics to cliché-riddled American war movies, Stiller’s film is a perfect blend of in-your-face comedy and pitch black satire. Glorious widescreen shots drenched in tropical colours, and expertly choreographed action sequences call to mind the meticulous camerawork of Platoon or Apocalypse Now, but this is more skewering than homage. Stiller concentrates on the darker side of celebrity, the lies and illusions one maintains pursuing that Hollywood dream of money and prestige; as the crew suddenly find themselves struggling with a variety of identity crises, a talent agent back in Los Angeles considers entering into a faustian bargain with a ruthless producer. And throughout it all the cameras keep rolling right up to the satisfyingly ironic ending. This territory has been covered many time before though never with such riotous excess; it may not be art, exactly, but rarely have two hours flown by so fast.