Sony Pictures Entertainment / Columbia Pictures presents in association with Relativity Media
an Apatow Co. / Mosaic Media Group production
MPAA rating PG-13 / Running time — 107 minutes

QUOTE: Product Prostitution. Disgraceful product placement everywhere with an Applebee’s commercial smack in the middle. Ferrell has product names written on his forehead. And, it’s a bore.

The NASCAR phenomenon is known for having zealot fans and product placement all over the cars and driver’s suits. The cost of the sport demands heavy sponsorship. Okay, but did this production really need to place Coca-Cola prominently in every scene? The dialogue was written solely to name products. I give up. This is product prostitution.

Will Ferrell is invincible. As long as he stays out-of-shape and runs around in his underwear, he will have a career. But Ferrell desperately wants to be a serious actor – he’ll be doing Shakespeare in the Park soon. I know he wants an on-screen love scene with a twenty-year old.

RICKY BOBBY is a TV commercial masquerading as a movie. Ricky “Applebee’s Spokesman” Bobby (Ferrell) is a selfish race-car driver with a too-loyal gay friend, Cal (John C. Reilly), who constantly expresses his love for his childhood friend. Cal has no life outside of being a loyal mascot. These two have a very unfunny motto – “Shake and Bake.” Even though Cal is a member of Ricky’s team, he is never allowed to win a race. He is only there to support blowhard Ricky.

Ricky does have a well-written family. His kids (Houston Tumlin and Grayson Russell) are terrific demons with filthy mouths. They were the funniest part of the movie. The rest of the movie is a dud. I never laughed. Ricky’s wife Carley (Leslie Bibb) and his father-in-law are perfectly cast. His mother is played by Jane Lynch, who made her character in THE 40-YEAR-OLD VIRGIN so memorable.

Someone should write a movie for Jane Lynch.

When Formula One driver Jean Girard (Sacha Baron Cohen) turns up to challenge him, Ricky feels the Euro-pressure and cracks up on the field. The only clever moment is the “invisible” fire of Ricky’s defeat. He wakes up to find himself paralyzed. It’s a fake paralysis and Rickey’s crew chief, Lucius Washington (Michael Clarke Duncan), along with Cal, try to help him get back into any car. Refusing to get behind a wheel and settled into delivering pizzas, Cal goes off with his sensible trophy-wife Carley. It takes Ricky’s good-for-nothing, long-lost father Reese (Gary Cole) to bring homespun Southern kick-ass training he certainly never used to redeem the man and heal the family at Applebee’s.

Gary Cole takes his small part and kicks the movie into high gear, but it is Cohen who really showcases a reckless comedic appeal. Yes, I’m waiting for Cohen’s “Borat: Cultural Learnings of America for Make Benefit Glorious Nation Kazakhstan” and this is an ideal introduction to what he can do.

The success of RICKY BOBBY only means that overt product placement will become standard and Will Ferrell will continue to reign as America’s middle-aged fool. The biggest question I have is this: how much rehearsing was done for that long, deep kiss? Will, tell me that was supposed to be comedy, not a statement of fact.

Credits:
Director: Adam McKay
Screenwriters: Will Ferrell, Adam McKay
Producers: Jimmy Miller, Judd Apatow
Executive producers: Will Ferrell, Adam McKay, David Householter, Ryan Kavanaugh, Richard Glover, Sarah Nettinga
Director of photography: Oliver Wood
Production designer: Clayton R. Hartley
Music: Alex Wurman
Costume designer: Susan Matheson
Editor: Brent White

Cast:
Ricky Bobby: Will Ferrell
Cal Naughton Jr.: John C. Reilly
Jean Girard: Sacha Baron Cohen
Reese Bobby: Gary Cole
Lucius Washington: Michael Clarke Duncan
Carley: Leslie Bibb
Lucy Bobby: Jane Lynch
Susan: Amy Adams
Gregory: Andy Richter
Mrs. Dennit: Molly Shannon
Larry Dennit Jr.: Greg Germann
Dennit Senior: Pat Hingle
Walker: Houston Tumlin
Texas Ranger: Grayson Russell

Looking for a wildly entertaining diversion? Try CHICAGO. A modern-day musical, it has all the spunk and charm of a classic, with the added benefit of enhanced camera effects. Enhanced is hardly the word for it: it is explosive.

As much as I may have tried to remain skeptical about this movie, I was won over early on by the Cell Block Tango, a captivating dance performed by six sultry women on death row, explaining their crimes of passions with excuses like “And then he fell on my knife. 14 times.”

Set in the roaring ‘20s, we first encounter saucy Velma Kelly (Catherine Zeta-Jones), who has shot and killed her husband and sister when she catches them in bed together. A pity, since this not only means the end of her marriage but the end of her vaudeville sister-act. On death row, Velma has lawyered-up with Billy Flynn (Richard Gere) who is famous for never losing a case thanks to the extravagant (and bogus) defenses he orchestrates for his clients for a mere $5,000. Velma is further aided by the busty Matron “Mama” Morton (Queen Latifah), the warden of the women’s cell block who, for a modest cash tip, can get you products from the outside world (anything from cigarettes to hair bleach) and can advise you on your future in vaudeville when and if you make it out of jail.

With her name all over the headlines, Velma commands public sympathy until Roxie Hart (Renee Zellweger) murders her lover Fred Casely. She tries to get her husband Amos (John C. Reilly) to take the blame for it, but to no avail. Little blonde Roxy takes on Billy Flynn for her defense, befriends Mama, and steals Velma’s media spotlight, leaving her steaming. Velma suggests they join forces and start an act and Roxy snottily declines. She does not have the brains to understand the nature of media and that eventually a new, more sensational murder will push her out of the limelight too.

A particularly clever plot device is the fact that all the song and dance numbers occur in Roxie’s mind and thus “reality” and imagination are woven seamlessly throughout. For instance, external factors such as the tapping of water in Roxie’s jail cell sink or the rhythmic steps of a guard walking become the opening percussion in The Cell Block Tango.

John C. Reilly’s endearing performance as Amos, Roxie’s pathetically naïve husband is worth noting, as is his rendition of “Mr. Cellophane.” Never did a clown look so sad.
Catherine Zeta-Jones is a pleasure to watch in all her numbers, recalling Cyd Charisse’s good looks and sex appeal. She and Renee Zellweger make an odd pair, however. Catherine ends up looking incredibly large next to Renee’s tiny frame, which seems to detract from their dance numbers together.

Save a few scenes wherein Renee Zellweger’s performance seems awkward and forced, all in all, CHICAGO is an impressive achievement and a wild ride. So enjoy. It might just make you want to dance. Or incorporate fishnet stockings into your wardrobe.

(editor’s note: CHICAGO’s director, Rob Marshall, received a special award from the NBR at their annual gala ceremony. It was presented to him by Renee Zellweger and Richard Gere, who gushed that making the film was the most fun he’s ever had on a shoot. He then acknowledged that there were other directors he’d worked with in the audience, including Francis Ford Coppola, but without qualifying his jublilance, stuck to his guns that this was the high point in terms of enjoyability.)

Credits:
Director: Rob Marshall
Screenplay: Bill Condon
Producer: Martin Richards

Cast:
Renee Zellweger,
Catherine Zeta-Jones,
Richard Gere,
Queen Latifah,
John C. Reilly,
Christine Baranski