Welcome to the Sticks

It's somehow strangely pleasing to discover that France's highest grossest comedy stars neither Gerdard Depardieu nor Daniel Auteil. Welcome to the Sticks (Bienvenue Chez Les Ch'its) instead cements the career of another French icon, successful comedian and actor Danny Boon (Joyeux Noel, Mon Meilleur Ami). As the writer, director and star of this film, Boon uses it to celebrate his beloved native region of Nord-Pas-de-Calais, located in the North of France. This area, which Boon so passionately adores, has traditionally been ridiculed for its unfriendly climate, its stinky cheeses and its peculiar dialect of 'ch'ti.' Welcome to the Sticks explores and challenges all these prejudices through Philippe (Kad Merad), a post office official who faces a disciplinary transfer into the region after he is caught trying to cheat his way towards the Riviera. His wife and son do not dare brave the freezing Northern climate and supposedly frightening locals, so Philippe goes it alone and, of course, discovers that the region is not all that meets the eye.

As with any standard French comedy, comedic deception abounds; Philippe's relationship with his wife has never been better, so, to ensure that she does not join him, he must keep prejudices undisturbed. You'll also find a sweet unrequited love sub-plot, a series of slowly-unfolding friendships and an underlying comedy of errors. In many ways, therefore, this film is not all that unique. Its phenomenal success in France can perhaps be attributed to its particularly relevant subject material, a lot of which is naturally lost in translation. Sub-titles may attempt to mimic that eccentric ch'ti accent, but ultimately this can only replicate a slither of the humour. There is just no way to translate all the cultural assumptions that surround this region and its dialect. Nonetheless, even on face value, this film is charming enough. Boon himself may not be that charismatic, but there is something quite charming about the good-natured characters that he has created, and their misguided stumbles through life’s obstacles. Welcome to the Sticks is easy to enjoy, even if, for Australians, it won’t really stand out from the plethora of French comedies that surround it.

Flight of the Conchords [this is not a film]

Through comedy festivals, TV appearances and radio shows, New Zealand ‘digi-folk’ parodists, Flight of the Conchords, have been wowing listeners with their musical prowess and unique lyrical styling for several years now (examples include: as “I want to tell her how hot she is but she’ll think I’m sexist / She’s so hot she’s making me sexist / Bitch” and so on). Now HBO (the American network with a knack for churning out television gold) has tapped into the band’s cult following by focusing their latest comedy effort around the escapades of this wacky Kiwi duo.

Musicians Bret McKenzie and Jemaine Clement (who you may recognise from last year’s Eagle Vs Shark) play exaggerated, fictionalised versions of themselves, as they struggle to stay afloat and obtain some level (any level) of musical success in the ruthless city of New York. They’re joined by Rhys Davies as their somewhat out-of-touch manager (who also heads a rather eccentric New Zealand tourism campaign, and constantly vies against his Australian competitors for the tourist dollar), as well as Kristen Schaal as their one and only fan (who seems to spend most of their day loitering outside their apartment awaiting a kiss).

Flight of the Conchords is yet another comedy to jump aboard the ‘deadpan humour’ bandwagon popularised by The Office. As usual you’ll find a fair amount of awkward silences, several eccentric characters that seem distinctly disconnected from the world around them, and that familiar affectionate mockery of nerdom. However, despite being amusing in and of their own right, the dialogue and narrative of the show basically serve only as catalysts for the duo’s songs. These musical treats are woven (often very tenuously) into the fabric of the story, and they help to keep each new episode fresh. For fans of music and fans of comedy, this show is a must-see. Channel Ten have therefore scheduled the series for the inconvenient hour of 10:10 on a Sunday night. When will they learn?

Year of the Dog

Anyone who has every forged an emotional connection with a pet will find it very difficult to dislike Year of the Dog. Few films have so subtly and accurately captured the relationship between human and animal, and the catastrophic feeling of loss that accompanies the death of a pet. Without sliding into any clichés or predictable character developments, screenwriter Mike White (in his first original screenplay) represents the sometimes hysterical, sometimes pathetic and sometimes sympathetic journey of the relatable receptionist Peggy (Molly Shannon), after she finds her beloved dog Pencil dead in her neighbour’s yard. Having previously relied upon Pencil as her sole companion, Peggy is suddenly thrust into the world of human interaction once again, with a mixed bag of results.

Thanks to both White’s writing and Shannon’s performance, the representation of Peggy as a character reaches an intriguing level of complexity. As she becomes increasingly obsessed with animal welfare campaigns, we are positioned to feel simultaneously angered, alarmed, alienated and approving. We are at once laughing with her and at her, and are thusly forced to reconsider our own personal positions on obsession and depression. It is undeniable, though, that White does get a little carried away at the end of the film, veering the narrative towards extremes that really only serve to confuse the audience. Indeed, it could be said that the film’s disappointing conclusion significantly reduces the rich complexity of the rest of the story. If it had ended just fifteen minutes earlier, before several unnecessarily dramatic developments, the film would have been remembered solely for its complex characters, quirky stylistic devices, and touching mix of pathos and humour. Instead, this is will be remembered as another film that began promisingly, but sadly (and messily) disintegrated. This is probably one to see on DVD, so that you can decide when to stop watching.

Rating: 7.2

Superbad

It’s hard not to be jealous of teenagers today. While we had clunky discmans and thick CD wallets, they have svelte iPods. While we were stuck with demure, wholesome Christina Aguilera, they enjoy racy Xtina. And while our age-defining comedy ‘classic’ was the painful American Pie, they are able to enjoy the genuine humour of Seth Rogen and Evan Goldberg (part of the crew responsible for The 40 Year Old Virgin and Knocked Up). Superbad is everything a teenage comedy should be – it is immature without being simplistic, and it is offensive without being cringe-worthy. Rogen and Goldberg have obviously drawn upon their own high school experiences in carving the central characters, Seth (Jonah Hill) and Evan (Michael Cera, playing a somewhat more racy version of Geroge Michael from Arrested Development). Unpopular and generally disliked, Seth and Evan unexpectedly gain entrance into a ‘cool’ party when their nerdy friend Fogell (Christopher Mintz-Plasse) scores a fake ID. What begins a simple attempt to purchase alcohol, though, quickly descends into a night of unpredictable madness, involving jaded policemen, unexpected sexual encounters and dangerous gatecrashing. In a genre that suffers from its lack of originality, Superbad is a breath of fresh air, injecting a unique freshness into the well-worn teen themes of virginity, romance, alcohol, friendship and moving away. If you’re willing to suffer through a seemingly endless series of penis jokes (and one really terrible menstruation gag) then this movie will deliver genuine laughs, and also an unexpectedly touching sentiment.

Rating: 8.9