“Hotel Transylvania”

Four stars

Starring (voices only): Adam Sandler, Andy Samberg, Selena Gomez, Kevin James, Fran Drescher, Steve Buscemi, Molly Shannon, David Spade, CeeLo Green, Jon Lovitz

Rating: PG, for mild rude humor and some scary images

“Hotel Transylvania” is generously laden with similar knee-slappers, many piling one atop the next in the rat-a-tat-tat manner of a classic Road Runner cartoon. But this is no seven-minute short; director Genndy Tartakovsky and editor Catherine Apple successfully maintain an exhilarating pace without sacrificing the character elements necessary to hold our interest.

It’s an impressive feat, no less so when considering the involvement of five credited writers: Peter Baynham, Robert Smigel, Todd Durham, Dan Hageman and Kevin Hageman. That many cooks generally spoil the magic potion, but in this case, everybody’s sensibilities mesh nicely. The result is a light-hearted spoof of familiar movie monster traditions, blended with wry takes on young love and an unusually extreme generation gap.

Long, long ago, in a haunted forest far, far away, Dracula (voiced by Adam Sandler) constructed a lavish “five-stake resort” that he dubbed Hotel Transylvania: a posh refuge for monsters and their families to vacation, far from curious — and potentially dangerous — eyes. As has become typical of our 21st century re-evaluations of fantasy creatures, these poor monsters are the world’s maligned and misunderstood, hunted and killed by the humans who fear and hate them.

Bearing that last thought in mind, Dracula’s massive sanctuary also has been designed as a place where his daughter, Mavis (Selena Gomez), can grow up safely. Dracula has particular reason for this parental concern; a century and change ago, his beloved wife — Mavis’ mother — was killed by just such a human mob.

But Mavis is celebrating her 118th birthday, and — just like the tower-bound Rapunzel, in 2010’s “Tangled” — she yearns to explore and experience the outside world. Until now, Dracula has managed to delay her desire, in part through the distraction of ever more elaborate birthday parties.

This one is destined to be no exception, with a guest list that includes Frankenstein (Kevin James) and his brassy wife, Eunice (Fran Drescher); Wayne (Steve Buscemi) and Wanda (Molly Shannon), a couple of loving werewolves who have produced litter after litter of pups; Griffin, the Invisible Man (David Spade); Murray (CeeLo Green), a boisterous, jive-talking mummy; and Quasimodo (Jon Lovitz), the hotel’s temperamental head chef, never seen without his loyal rat assistant, Esmeralda.

But those are only the front-and-center characters; the guest list also includes riffs on every creature known from myth and cinema, from the gelatinous Blob and the Creature from the Black Lagoon, to the multi-headed Cerberus, the Abominable Snowman, an underwater octopoid beast so huge that we never see more than a tentacle or two, and the assorted witch maids, headless drivers, mariachi skeletons, limb-challenged zombies and haunted suits of armor that serve as the hotel staff.

Not that it makes a difference, despite Mavis’ fondness for all these weird uncles and aunts. Holding her father to a promise he made years ago, she demands that he allow her to spread her (bat) wings.

As it happens, though, her desire for travel gets put on hold with the unexpected arrival of one last guest: an energetic, way-cool motormouth dude named Jonathan (Andy Samberg), who can shred a guitar or a skateboard with equal élan. Jonathan has been backpacking his way across Europe, and with the insatiable curiosity of any 21-year-old, he naturally follows up on an oft-heard rumor about a mysteriously spooky castle hidden deep within the Transylvanian woods.

But Jonathan’s presence is a catastrophe for Dracula, who has long guaranteed his premises to be human-free. Concealing Jonathan’s healthy pink complexion isn’t difficult; a bit of make-up and an electrified hairstyle later, the kid is introduced to everybody as Johnnystein, Frankenstein’s supposed cousin (actually, the cousin of the fellow who, ah, supplied one of Frankie’s arms).

But Dracula has a much tougher time dealing with the luminescent goo-goo eyes that suddenly flash between Jonathan and Mavis: love at first sight.

What’s an undead dad to do?

Sandler makes a wonderfully pompous vampire, clearly regarded as the big cheese by all his supernatural friends and guests, but helpless in the face of his daughter’s stricken, disappointed expressions. Sandler gives his black-caped character a wide range of moods and emotions, from unexpected gentleness — always played against a given scene’s apparently ominous mood — to breath-catching flashes of blood-curdling fury. Based on the actor’s track record with recent dim-bulb comedies, I think he’s much better as unseen voice talent.

Samberg’s Jonathan is a stitch. It’s funny enough when this hyper-enthusiastic sorta-slacker first assumes that he has stumbled into some sort of fan gathering, with folks sporting really rad costumes; it’s positively side-splitting when the poor guy realizes that he’s surrounded by (gulp) actual, rotted-flesh-and-putrefied-blood creatures of the night.

Until he (literally) bumps into Mavis, of course. No warm-blooded guy could resist a girl this cute … even if she does have fangs.

Gomez successfully navigates Mavis’ many moods, ensuring that her typically teenage character is headstrong but not demanding, mildly self-centered but never unpleasantly selfish. Mavis isn’t merely the apple of her father’s eye — a weakness she cheerfully exploits to her advantage — she’s also adored by all who visit the castle. And, really, we can’t argue with her desire to escape the constricting confines of her father’s enveloping cloak … no matter how noble his intentions.

Buscemi is a hoot as a beaten-down father never able to hide from his bratty brood, and James gives Frankenstein an intriguing reading as a sort of blue-collar working stiff. Lovitz initially makes Quasimodo an overly solicitous toady, but this character turns menacing in the final act.

Mark Mothersbaugh contributes a vigorous orchestral score, punctuated at key moments by energetic pop anthems such as a reworked cover of Carly Rae Jepsen’s “Call Me Maybe” — here retitled “Call Me Mavy” — and a climactic rap duel involving Dracula, Jonathan and Mavis, called “Problem (The Monster Remix).” Cute stuff.

You’re well advised to spring for the film’s 3D format, which lends additional depth and dimension to bat flights and pell-mell pursuits through the castle’s darkened passages. The 3D “money sequence,” however, is a ballroom duel of sorts between Dracula and Jonathan, with floating tables as game pieces. This has nothing to do with the story, and could be viewed as a time-filling distraction … were it not so giddily exhilarating.

I hope “Hotel Transylvania” hangs around for at least a month, because it’ll be perfect family viewing for the night before Halloween.

— Read more of Derrick Bang’s film criticism at derrickbang.blogspot.com. Comment on this review at www.davisenterprise.com

“Celeste and Jesse Forever”

3.5 stars

Starring: Rashida Jones, Andy Samberg, Ari Graynor, Emma Roberts, Chris Messina, Rebecca Dayan, Elijah Wood, Will McCormack

Rating: R, for profanity, drug use and sexual candor

At first blush, however, the opposite seems true of the title characters in “Celeste and Jesse Forever” … and that’s the clever twist in this arch and perceptive script from Rashida Jones and Will McCormack.

Celeste (Jones) and Jesse (Andy Samberg) are introduced on what seems an average day. They’re bubbly, effervescent and completely at ease with each other. They enjoy many of the same artful pursuits, while cheerfully tolerating each other’s varying tastes. They finish sentences together, dissect restaurant menus in mock German accents, and share little physical rituals, from air-hugs to hilariously vulgar acts with tubes of lip gloss.

In a word, they’re cute enough to be cloying.

Unfortunately, they aren’t a couple. At least … not really.

Indeed, they’re long separated and in the final stages of divorce. But an inability to stay married hasn’t damaged their friendship, although this dichotomy falls outside the bounds of comfort for their respective best friends, Beth (Ari Graynor) and Tucker (Eric Christian Olsen), coincidentally engaged and soon to be wed.

We deduce that Celeste and Jesse once were perfectly matched, during the younger days that led to their own wedded bliss. But Celeste has matured beyond the giddy rush of carefree twentysomethingness; she has become the ambitious, workaholic co-owner of her own media consulting firm. She’s also a frequently quoted “trend analyzer” and the author of a book on same, provocatively titled “Shitegeist.”

The passive Jesse, alternatively, prefers the lackadaisical existence of an artist. He’ll blow off deadlines — even on projects for Celeste — in order to watch TV or get stoned with good buddy Skillz (McCormack), a casual pot dealer who is quite vexed by the medical marijuana clinics that are interfering with his business model.

Before long, we recognize what Beth has known all along: Although Celeste and Jesse superficially are the epitome of soul mates, their relationship is anything but healthy. He doesn’t want to move on, clearly hoping that she’ll change her mind and take him back. She can’t move on, panicked by the thought of truly losing the one guy who puts up with her.

She even lets Jesse live in the large studio in the yard behind the house they once shared together. He may as well be a goldfish in a bowl.

Jesse tries to date; Celeste doesn’t bother. She can be magnanimous about his efforts, because he invariably selects no-hopers such as the cute but deadly dull counter girl (Kate Krieger) at a local yogurt shop: clearly no threat.

Eventually, though, Jesse does slide into a serious new relationship, with Veronica (Rebecca Dayan), a woman he dated casually a few months earlier. They bump into each other again in a bookstore, and Celeste’s radar pings: This won’t be one of Jesse’s casual dates. Just like that, Celeste’s carefully constructed outer shell crumbles, and her inner shrew comes shrieking to the surface.

And we wonder how we ever could have admired her … or how Jesse ever could have fallen in love with her. Or whether she even deserves to be loved.

Jones, a personable actress with superb comic timing, has paid her dues on TV shows such as “Boston Public,” “Unhitched” and “The Office.” More recently, she has turned in small but memorable supporting performances in films such as “I Love You, Man,” “The Social Network” and “The Big Year.” She projects a perky, captivating blend of intelligence and understated sensuality; she’d definitely be the most engaging guest at a dinner party.

Based on this impressive scripting debut, she’s also a savvy writer with a perceptive ear for authentic dialogue and relationship angst.

Samberg, a longtime “Saturday Night Live” regular too frequently trolling in big-screen junk like “Hot Rod,” “What’s Your Number” and “That’s My Boy,” is a pleasant surprise here; I hope he makes wise use of this breakthrough role. We may not wholly approve of Jesse’s repeated failure to embrace responsible behavior, but we sympathize with him; he’s a nice guy trying to do the right thing. Like many of today’s twentysomethings, he simply needs to be pushed out of the nest.

Graynor, another talented young actress on a well-deserved rise, does marvelous things with her slow takes and looks of stunned disbelief, the latter often prompted by Celeste’s increasingly erratic behavior. Chris Messina, recently seen as the perplexed brother in “Ruby Sparks,” has an equally engaging role here as Paul, a guy who meets Celeste in a yoga class and tries — a bit too glibly — to kick off a relationship.

Emma Roberts delivers a strong performance as Riley, a sulky pop star-of-the-moment who has hired Celeste and Scott’s company to manage her image. At first blush, Riley seems oblivious … but she isn’t stupid, as Celeste unfairly (but typically) assumes. This particular character arc is delightful, because the two women initially loathe each other, with Riley even nailing Celeste with the insightful accusation of “contempt before investigation.”

But things change, and Riley eventually proves instrumental in Celeste’s awkward efforts to find her way back to personhood. That’s the core issue, of course: whether Celeste can rise above her self-absorbed persecution complex and become, well, likable.

Director Lee Toland Krieger paces his film well, often cleverly playing with our expectations. He also has the wisdom to resist the uber-tight close-ups that often mar this sort of story; he trusts his cast members to deliver the goods in gentler two-shots.

And I love the way co-scripters Jones and McCormack bring their narrative full circle, with some deft parallel structure in a final scene that echoes an earlier moment.

One large complaint, though: As was the case with Greta Gerwig’s character in “Lola Versus,” Jones’ Celeste spends far too much time indulging in recreational — or dispirited — drug and alcohol binging. It’s excessive to the point of medical concern, and therefore quite distracting. If this is an accurate portrayal of Generation Next, they’ll all lose their livers before turning 40.

Substance abuse issues aside, “Celeste and Jesse Forever” is engaging, frequently funny and often heartbreaking. Jones and McCormack concoct an emotional roller coaster ride with plenty of bumps, but that’s an accurate reflection of our real world. Relationships can be messy, particularly when those involved are in different places at different times.

Sometimes, sadly, love just isn’t enough.

— Read more of Derrick Bang’s film criticism at derrickbang.blogspot.com. Comment on this review at www.davisenterprise.com