Film: The Other Guys

Will Ferrell, like him or not, is clearly determined to make as many films as he can in which he does, essentially, the same thing. That things seems to be standing eerily still next to a co-star and proclaiming, with amounts of intensity ranging from the deadpan to the overtly psychotic, things like "I'm in so much pain right now!" or "Now you're just hurting me. That hurt a lot. And not just in the arm, where you punched me, but in here [he points to his chest], right in here, in the ticker [the stoners and rugby players go wild and the catchphrase is repeated indefinitely by those who are either drunk or incapable of independent communication, or quite often both]".

His routine is one that has been banked upon by various Hollywood projects over the years and has varied amounts of success. But in The Other Guys he finds solace in working again with ex-SNL writer, 'Anchorman' director and co-founder of internet comedy hub 'Funny Or Die' Adam McKay, whose talent for creating grotesquely deluded, arrogant egotists is demonstrated in 'Anchorman' as well as 'Talladega Nights' (another Ferrell vehicle) and the over-looked US comedy series 'Eastbound & Down'.

What also comes from this frequently funny new film, and comes as somewhat more of a shock, is Ferrell's being outshone by Mark Wahlberg as a source of laughs. For it is, to some people's surprise, the Boogie Nights hunk and recent action star (though most reviews of Max Payne were about as complimentary as a burning turd through the letter box) who steals the show as the other "other" guy and Ferrell's sidekick in this strangely pitched police romp.


Ferrell and Wahlberg are Allen Gamble and Terry Hoitz, two NYPD officers who, like the rest of the department, are overshadowed by the courageous real-life superheroes Highsmith and Danson (played with great tongue in cheek bravado by Samuel L Jackson and Dwayne "The Rock" Johnson). Strutting around town busting chops and blowing up the bad guys, Highsmith and Danson are the toast of the city, but when a hilariously avoidable "accident" leads to their early demise they leave a gaping whole in the department. Who will be the new heroes?

Terry, a promising officer who was demoted when he fired an ill-judged shot into the leg of the city's favourite baseball star, immediately sees an opportunity for him and Allen to step up to the plate, but Allen is happy where he is, processing building permits in the safety of the office. But when Allen finds irregularities in his paperwork and moves to arrest billionaire investment banker David Ershon (played with the same old British smirk by Steve Coogan) they find themselves at the centre of a very real and major case that could see them finally recognised as more than just the "other guys"...

With plot playing second fiddle to jokes, there is not much about the story arc of The Other Guys to surprise an intelligent viewer, but this does not stop it being honestly enjoyable. Embracing the conflict of the "odd couple" comedy structure, in which two conflicting personalities are forced together and continually come to blows but inevitably respect each other, Ferrell and Wahlberg bicker and bite insatiably, and the dialogue (some of it presumably improvised) between them is frequently hilarious. But for all of Ferrell's slapstick talent as the nerdy Hoitz (whose past experiences as a campus pimp (don't ask) come back to haunt him...), it is Wahlberg's straight-faced hardman that impresses most. With varying measures of disbelief, anger, confusion and frustration, Wahlberg's Terry is a great comedy character. In one particularly funny scene, Terry visits his girlfriend, a dancer, to try and win her back. "If we didn't break up" he protests, "then you wouldn't be here in this strip club shaking it for dollar bills!" to which she rightly replies "This is a ballet class Terry."


Elsewhere the film is a predictable jumble of cop cliches and send-ups: car chases abound, but in Allen's feminine Toyota Prius, and explosions and gunfights are painted with broadly sardonic, tongue-in-cheek strokes. It is also clear that those responsible for the economic meltdown of recent years, specifically the major corporations and banks, are in the firing line for McKay, and this is never more clear than in the strangely Michael Moore-esque final credit sequence, in which a stream of facts and figures documenting the imbalance and injustice of the American economy are screened without any sign of irony. Whether the director expects us to be in the right mindset to absorb such data in a serious manner having just watched two hours of light-hearted comedy is questionable, but it is an oddly ill-fitting end to the picture.

It does, however, not detract from the capable work that has gone before, where a pacy yet irreverant script, great leading chemistry and some strong supporting performances from the likes of Eva Mendes (as Allen's bafflingly hot and sexually liberated "ball and chain" Sheila) and especially Michael Keaton (as the guys' Captain, Gene, whose frequent use of TLC lyrics in his pep-talks is one of the funniest running gags of the film), and the film has enough laughs to re-invigorate the frat-pack comedy genre. Lets just hope that those at those with the money and the power will refrain from throwing precious cash at bad scripts and copy-cat projects in the hope of riding the wave.