Susan Granger’s review of “Mortdecai” (Lionsgate Films)
The reason that even the most famous stand-up comics periodically return to comedy clubs to try out new material is that – in front of an audience – they can immediately determine whether people find what they’re doing funny.
What a shame Johnny Depp didn’t have that opportunity – because his considerable talents are squandered playing the preening, aristocratic poof, a man besotted by his mustache.
Based on “Don’t Point That Thing at Me” (1973), the first in a series of three cult novels by Kyril Bonfiglioli, this caper comedy chronicles the misadventures of British Lord Charlie Mortdecai (Depp), a snobbish, tax-dodging art dealer, his disapproving trophy wife Johanna (Gwyneth Paltrow), and his studly manservant Jock Strap (Paul Bettany).
“Every man should have a Jock, don’t you think?” muses Mortdecai, twirling his walrus whiskers.
When a rare Goya painting – “The Duchess of Wellington” – goes missing after a robbery, Mortdecai is recruited by secret agent Alistair Martland (Ewan McGregor) to find the stolen canvas and ascertain the Swiss bank account number of Nazi Hermann Goering that’s supposedly scribbled on its reverse side.
Their globe-trotting quest takes them from London to Hong Kong to Moscow to Los Angeles – and back again.
Scripted by novice Eric Aronson and helmed by screenwriter-turned-director David Koepp (“Premium Rush”), it’s not only charmless but chock full of clumsy slapstick, campy violence and smutty sexual innuendos. Perhaps realizing they had little choice, given the thin material, the cast self-consciously mugs for the camera – entrapping hapless supporting players like Jeff Goldblum as a sleazy American art dealer and Olivia Munn as his nymphomaniac daughter.
On the Granger Movie Gauge of 1 to10, “Mortdecai” is a tiresome 2 – a misfire that’s mortifying for all concerned.
