New Line Home Video | Review by Dan Taylor
Upon
hearing this high-concept idea -- over-sexed
Brit spy is frozen in the promiscuous 60s
and thawed in the pc-90s -- I figured ol'
Mike Meyers oughta look up Dana Carvey and
see if he was ready for WAYNE'S WORLD PART
TRES.
And then I saw the trailer
before GROSSE POINTE BLANK and thought,
"Hmm, I might be wrong about this one."
By preview's end I was curled up in my seat,
tears rolling down my face. This would either:
a) be the funniest flick of the year; or,
b) I'd end up paying $7 to see the trailer
dragged out to 90 minutes. I was high on
anticipation, but more than a little apprehensive.
In AP's wake, I find that
nobody waffles on this flick. Many think
it's one of the funniest, laugh-out-loud
comedies of the decade. This group includes
the bulk of the ER Krew, my brother-in-law,
and my teenage niece who believes it's the
funniest film ever made. (I reserve that
distinction for Mel Brooks' THE PRODUCERS,
but I do admit that POWERS reduces me to
helpless gigglefits.) On the other hand,
I've read reviews containing the sort of
savagery usually reserved for Bob Goldthwait
flicks, and acquintances have labeled it
"the worst film I've ever seen."
Is there no middle ground here? Can't we
all just get along?
For my friends and me, the
POWERS appeal lies in its knowing nods to
and appreciation of the spy craze of the
1960s. Sure, there are obvious references
to 007-dom -- Myers' Dr. Evil is a wonderfully
sinister pastiche of Blofeld and Dr. No
("in the summer we made meat helmets...
when I was insolent I was placed in a burlap
sack and beaten with reeds... pretty standard"),
the bloodless end battle could've been lifted
from any post-THUNDERBALL Bond, and the
game of "21" between our hero
and the scatalogically-named No. 2 (Robert
Wagner) has its roots in the earliest Bond
tales.
However, it's the post-Bond
spy craze that gives AP its best moments:
from the flick's 1960s Brit-rock opening
number to Mimi Rogers filling out her AVENGERS-suit
like Liz Hurley (the film's one weak link)
wishes she could; from the LAUGH-IN-esque
interludes to the GET SMART-styled robes
that Powers and Kensington wear at the film's
conclusion. If you're up on your 60s spy
genre, the flick's a pisser.
Which doesn't explain
why a plethora of teens have embraced the
flick and made it a more-than-modest success
through repeat viewings (after a $50 million
gross at the box office, rentals raked in
another $40-something, paving the way for
the sequel).
In fact, my niece and her friends pepper
their conversations with Powersisms and
know the opening dance number by heart.
Perhaps this flick simply cuts across generational
lines because it's inexcusably funny. Hollywood
could learn something from that concept.
