Becoming a made man? Not nearly as simple, or really as elegantly enticing as it may sound. Especially when cinematic life mates Jon Favreau and Vince Vaughn are the men attempting to, you know, get made. What began as a misguided journey in to what I was hoping would be a sequel to Swingers (best movie forever of all the times ever) became a frustratingly entertaining piece of film. Ricky Slade and Bobby Ricigliano (Ricky Bobby?? No shit…) are two lifelong friends who, working for well-connected Max, are sent to New York to make a drop. The highest of jinks ensues. Despite what I may have expected, this directorial debut sufficiently made my collection.
For the record, I love me some Vince Vaughn. Man crush, bromance, call it what you like, but he’s become an actor I always look forward to seeing. Consistently funny, entirely unique in presence among a sea of impostors. This time around, however, Vinnie Vegas (nickname in progress) makes it truly difficult to enjoy his performance. I’ve learned to love and appreciate his obnoxious and incessant Ricky. But holy goddamn, does Vaughn push the limits of reasonable accommodation in this pseudo-follow-up-but-not-really-connected-to-Swingers comedic escapade. The guy does not know when to shut up, to just STOP TALKING! It’s as though he took his lovable but verbose Trent and injected him with douche serum. Still, he makes it work. All forgiven, yet entirely unforgettable. One Swingers connection that did make an appearance is subtle but soundly awesome. A license plate, reading “DBLDN11.” Favreau, you exquisite bastard!
We can’t exit this entry without at least mentioning the acting debut of one Sean “P. Puff Diddy Daddy” Combs. Midst a slew of powerhouse thespians (Famke Janssen, Peter Falk, Faizon Love, Vincent Pastore, Sam Rockwell in possibly the greatest cameo in the history of pretend Hotel Clerks), the mogul holds more than his own. “You turned an Easter egg hunt into a butt-fuck-a-thon.” Damn right, Diddy. Damn right. Mr. Favreau has gone on to become an elite filmmaker in this business of show. From the humblest of beginnings, right? In this case, a foul-mouthed dark comic crime film, guaranteed to make you feel, well, far more than you might expect.
directed by Jon Favreau
written by Jon Favreau
favorite lines: “Here’s scenario B for you Bob, see how you feel about this one. Now I don’t know if you’ve noticed this or not, but I think I’m starting to get under Ruiz’s skin as well, OK? It all started with the whole Red Dragon, or the Welsh guy, whatever, they can play it down all they want but you know 200 grand’s a lot of fucking money! It’s a fucking lot of money! OK? 200 grand is definitely a lot of fucking money! And now I’ve got Ruiz calling me fucking Fruit-Pie the fucking magician! Tellin’ me that I can’t fucking call my main man Max, who fucking sent me out on the fucking operation? And what about the Welsh guy? He’s fucking scat all over, they fucking disappear and talk! And you haven’t noticed this either but when he’s not fucking looking at me or you’re fucking doing whatever, I’ve got fucking Jimmy in the mirror with his shit too. It’s fucking coming at me from here, I don’t know where it is! It might be coming this way, it might be coming that way, but the fucking shit’s coming and I’m not gonna be late for the fucking dance man, I’m not gonna be fucking late for the dance on this one!” Ricky Slade