2015, Directed by David Koepp
Written by Eric Aronson (screenplay), Kyril Bonfiglioli (novel)
Starring: Johnny Depp, Gwyneth Paltrow, Ewan McGregor
Juggling angry Russians, the British Mi5, and an international terrorist, debonair art dealer and part time rogue Charlie Mortdecai races to recover a stolen painting rumored to contain a code that leads to lost Nazi gold.
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That should be the review right there. Alas, I must keep going.
I’m actually starting to worry that I’m a masochist when it comes to movies — a “cine-masochist” if you will. Watching insufferable, anti-comedy dreck like Mortdecai is an unpleasant experience, but for some reason, I find it gratifying. If I make it to the end credits of a terrible movie unscathed, the simple fact that I can check it off my IMDb watchlist and it will never hurt me again is comforting enough.
Mortdecai isn’t so much a movie as it is a contestt to see how much mileage the filmmakers can get out of one lame gag. It’s based upon the premise that Charlie Mortdecai (Johnny Depp — dude needs a pep talk!) is the worst Tim Curry character ever. He’s a klutzy English chap who makes ridiculous faces, says ridiculous things, and most important of all, he has a giant handlebar mustache. If at any point you forget that Mortdecai has a mustache, don’t worry, he constantly reminds you with his annoying facial expressions.
I cannot believe the movie was rated R here in America, because the kind of faces Mortdecai makes probably aren’t amusing to anyone over the age of 2.
It also seems to have the rules of comedy a little backwards. It’s not the mustache that makes the character, it’s the character that makes the mustache, and there is nothing to Mortdecai other than he’s a hammy caricature of Peter Sellers.
We also have Gwyneth Paltrow as his luscious wife, Joanna, and shock of all shocks, she’s an uninteresting character as well! It doesn’t help that I can’t stand Gwyneth Paltrow in real life. She’s so full of herself and pretentious that it makes watching any movie she’s in a challenge.
I almost expected her to be sipping one of her gluten-free organic kale and cayenne pepper milkshakes or doing rooftop yoga with an actual Buddhist monk mid-scene.
Ewan McGregor is Mortdecai’s rival, and I never thought I would say this in my life, but I can no longer name The Phantom Menace as his most embarrassing role. I can’t say much about Paul Bettany as Mortdecai’s manservant, either, because at this point in the review, I forgot about him, but I don’t give a damn.
I must ask, what are Olivia Munn and Jeff Goldblum even doing on the DVD box? Neither of them appear in the movie for more than ten minutes and have little impact on what little story there is.
Which is why I will stop my review here, because there is no story to work with.
I cannot think of a redeeming quality surrounding this movie, except that it now poses a genuine threat to Hot Tub Time Machine 2’s tenuous grip on the title of Worst Movie of 2015, and with roughly 177 days left in the year, I will be hard pressed to find something that stoops to this level of soul-dampening despair.
Rating: 1/5 (and that’s being generous!)