Gus Van Sant’s Gerry is the “story” of Matt Damon and Casey Affleck walking through the desert and not saying a word, as the audience is left to wonder if they’re more than just friends. Pineapple Express—the latest comedy blockbuster out of Judd Apatow’s machine—is the “story” of James Franco and Seth Rogan punching eachother in the nuts and talking a whole lot about dicks, half-brained schemes to get the bad guys before they themselves get got and, of course, marijuana. Lots and lots of weed. It all explodes in a battle royale of automatic weapons. Gerry’s climax comes when Casey Affleck is scared to jump off a rock.
The humor of Pineapple Express never varies from absurdist, even as it disparately moves from awkwardly bad “Walker Texas Ranger” dialogue/plot points and over-the-top slapstick violence/homo-erotic jokes. Discussing the chain reaction of events that causes Rogan and Franco down their rabbit hole is probably assinine at this point, but pretty much everything can be garnered by the trailer. With the film’s branding—from inside and out—so steeped in the great marijuana movies, it’s sure to get that stoner money when it opens next Friday. But whether the B-movie campiness, the kind of stuff that keeps potheads fixed to late-night cable movies starring Steven Segal, can actually be funnier than the premise itself for the short-attention spanned impared, well, that’ll be an experiment. To see what happens when I was too high to be Internetting, click here.
The afterparty for last night’s Westwood premier was another thing all together. Built to be a munchies-haven (mini-burgers, french fries, twinkies, hostess apple pies, pizza, potato chips) and a who’s who high kid -dols (Kevin Smith, every Apatow character ever), the outdoor event was proper. URB ran into the RZA, who called my URB #148 story on Wu-Tang “weird…nahmean? Bung bung.” He must’ve been high.
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