I would provide a mild recommendation for Jake Kasdan (& co-writer/comedyimpresario/medialovechild Judd Apatow)’s biopic shenanigans. As it began, I was sucked into its pitch-perfect mimicry and its generally sly and absurdist approach to parody — Apatow learned some of these chops on the old “Ben Stiller Show,” which offered up some of the greatest, sharpest showbiz satires ever made. (My favorite was the Behind the Music documentary about the rise of U2, who were managed early on by Reuben Kincaid.)
Alas, those bits were 10 minutes long, and this is almost 90, and … well, it is never more than a sly absurdist parody. John Reilly remains one of my favorite comic actors, unrivalled in the portrayal of earnest dimwit intensity. But Dewey Cox–and every character–remain sharp but shallow caricatures, and the film doesn’t develop the sense of character the way other Apatow films (or even the best Will Ferrell vehicles) do. Watching Anchorman I felt like I was inside Ron Burgundy’s head, and it was a wonderful strange place, but Dewey’s all too familiar. Walk also avoids the scattershot quantity-theory of parody (a la Airplane), which allows it to be much smarter but also less frequently funny. I admired the craft of the jokes, and I’m not sure a general intellectual appreciation ought to be the primary outcome for a comedy like this.
I did enjoy the full-frontal male nudity. Penises are funny.