You see those goats? You get to see about five of those goats' penises in Seth McFarlane's new movie, A Million Ways to Die in the West. Sure, only one of them is "real," but who cares, right? The other four or five come courtesy of McFarlane's character, Albert, experiencing a drug-fueled hallucination brought on by a group of Native Americans he meets while on the run from Liam Neeson and his band of notorious outlaws. The goats do a song and dance number about mustaches (a reprise from an earlier song) and end the number by shooting water fountain like piss out of their erect penises like some attraction outside a Las Vegas casino. I can't believe I just typed that.
Actually, I can't believe I even watched this movie and that I'm now going to briefly write about it. I fully realize that this kind of film has a built-in audience and that I'm simply just not part of it. But all I can do is share my opinion. So here I am and here you are and, well, I guess here goes.
From the beginning with his choice of booming orchestral music, gorgeous wide shots of breathtaking Monument Valley and the large, old-timey, red and yellow opening credits, it's pretty clear Seth McFarlane wants A Million Ways to Die in the West to be his Blazing Saddles. Mel Brooks's 1974 classic is now famous for its satirizing of the racism obscured and ignored by the myth-making done by Hollywood about the American West. It's a film that's full of raunchy (for the time) humor, sight gags and pratfalls and deliberate anachronisms like the mention of Wide World of Sports or the appearances of Count Basie and Nazi soldiers (no relation, thank god). It tells the story of Cleavon Little as Sheriff Bart, a black man who is sentenced unjustly to be hanged but is saved at the last minute by Harvey Korman's Hedley Lamarr who then makes him sheriff (and resident outsider) of the all-white town of Rock Ridge.
A Million Ways to Die in the West is similar. It's overflowing with raunchy humor (among other things). Seth McFarlane and his cast of actors (who are admirably down for anything) trip and fall and shit themselves and die left and right. And the cultural anachronisms that Mel Brooks used as a clever device for comedy are shifted by McFarlane into the entire tonal basis for his film - characters essentially live in two eras, commenting about the West with a modern sensibility even as they live through it. Everything seems to be in place to make for a new classic. Unfortunately, the shit literally and figuratively hits the fan. The frat boy gross-out humor doesn't produce a quarter of the laughs they're meant to and where Blazing Saddles felt like it had something important to say about the film industry and society as a whole, A Million Ways is just one tedious joke about how horrendous it must have been to live in the Wild West. However, the worst part isn't the immature jokes or the repetitive pratfalls or even the lackluster story.
The weakest strand in Seth McFarlane's summer blockbuster lasso is himself. Both Mel Brooks and Seth McFarlane are showmen. They're big, they're loud and they're theatrical. The difference is that Mel Brooks understands where his strengths lie. He may be a fine actor (may be), but he's a writer first and foremost. In all of his strongest movies (e.g. Blazing Saddles, Young Frankenstein, The Producers and The Twelve Chairs) he was writer and director and played only a small role in the film. When he got older and decided to do more egocentric works like Life Stinks or Dracula: Dead and Loving It, giving himself larger roles on top of his other duties, his work floundered. Likewise, when McFarlane tries the same with his own vanity project it's another prime example of a person not having anyone with the authority to question or critique his actions. While all the other actors are admittedly trying to be as funny (to the point of caricature) as they can, they still remain professional movie actors and do their best to inhabit the roles given to them. McFarlane on the other hand tries too hard to be the funniest man in the room. His line readings and physical performance culminate into something akin to a standup comedy routine. (In fact, the only character he has any real similarities with is Bill Maher's, who is actually a standup comedian in the movie.) He goes on long diatribes about how farts will kill you and how the doctor will kill you and how horrible everything is and he's so far removed from the other characters for so much of the film's runtime that it all just becomes tiresome. It might have been different if no one else realized how awful the West was and he was the sole voice of reason. It might have even been different if everyone performed at McFarlane's level. Unfortunately, plenty of other characters realize the inherent abysmal nature of their conditions and react in more subtle, sometimes amusing ways. Even in a world of caricatures, McFarlane manages to feel cartoonish.
In the end, nothing really worked for me. None of the jokes really hit the marks they're intended to (except one particular one involving an awe-inspiring dollar bill). What could have been vulgar and biting satire about Hollywood, masculine culture or a plethora of other topics turns into a series of dick and fart jokes for the sake of dicks and farts. None of the characters are compelling whatsoever. Though much more grounded than McFarlane, Charlize Theron as Albert's love interest Anna is still overly written, a manic pixie cowgirl who's beautiful and funny and quirky and everything that Louise (Albert's first love played by Amanda Seyfried) isn't. Liam Neeson as the main villain, Clinch Leatherwood, is only in the movie for a few scenes and does little besides acting all Irish and intimidating and Neil Patrick Harris is basically Barney Stinson with an old-timey mustache. Giovanni Ribisi plays his go-to lovable weirdo (though less interesting and more pathetically stupid than his other roles) whose girlfriend Ruth (Sarah Silverman doing Sarah Silverman) is a prostitute who fulfills all of her clients' craziest desires but won't sleep with him until their wedding. (They're good Christians after all.)
Though it is a beautifully shot film with absolutely stunning visuals, well choreographed and directed set pieces and spectacular costume and set design, there's just no saving A Million Ways to Die in the West. There's an old saying that I think sums things up perfectly (and the fact that it does says everything):
"You can dress a turd in a tuxedo, but at the end of the day it's still a turd."
I guess you could say the same thing about goat penises. (It's cool if you use this in your next movie, Seth. Just shoot me a writing credit.)
3 out of 10
