“The Incredible Burt Wonderstone”

3.5 stars

Starring: Steve Carell, Steve Buscemi, Jim Carrey, Olivia Wilde, Alan Arkin, James Gandolfini, Jay Mohr, Mason Cook, Luke Vanek

Rating: PG-13, for profanity, sexual candor, fleeting drug content and dangerous stunts

Comic talents unite for an amusing poke at showcase magicians

By Derrick Bang
Enterprise film critic

Las Vegas magic acts — with their glitzy, overwrought buffoonery — are ripe for parody, and director Don Scardino attacks this subculture with verve, in “The Incredible Burt Wonderstone.”

Armed with a witty script that hits most of the right notes, Scardino demonstrates his own gift for prestidigitation, by shaping a gaggle of scene-stealing camera hogs into a well-balanced ensemble comedy troupe. That’s no small thing, when dealing with the likes of Steve Carell, Steve Buscemi and Jim Carrey, any one of whom could ruin a project by being too uninhibited … and all have done so, in the past (in Carrey’s case, rather frequently).

Not this time. Scardino keeps his stars on point while also drawing deft supporting performances from Alan Arkin, James Gandolfini and Olivia Wilde. The latter, in particular, demonstrates an unexpected talent for comic timing that was nowhere to be seen in her token hottie roles in “Tron: Legacy” and “Cowboys & Aliens.” Given her work here, Wilde actually may have an acting career in her future.

The biggest miracle, though, is that this film’s script manages to stay reasonably well focused — and dead-on perceptive, as it skewers Vegas’ wretched excess — despite being a committee affair from four writers: Jonathan M. Goldstein, John Francis Daley, Chad Kultgen and Tyler Mitchell.

Gentlemen, my black top hat’s off to you.

The story opens with a brief prologue in the early 1980s, as latchkey kid Burt (Mason Cook) celebrates a birthday by himself, forced by his working mother’s absence to bake his own cake (a droll and endearing touch that hints of great things to come). His one present: a celebrity magic set that will evoke strong memories from viewers who remember being a kid back in that era, when Marshall Brodien — as Wizzo the Wizard —hawked his “TV Magic Kit” of “mystifying tricks” on syndicated stations.

In this case, young Burt is awestruck by the kit’s videotape, wherein tuxedo-garbed Rance Holloway (Arkin) promises that magic can change one’s life. Burt, enchanted, starts pulling scarves out of thin air; his school time antics attract the attention of the similarly geeky — and bullied — Anton (Luke Vanek). The two become fast friends, energized by a desire to invent newer, fresher and ever more amazing tricks.

Flash-forward a couple of decades, as Burt Wonderstone (Carell) and Anton Marvelton (Buscemi) have become hot newcomers on the Vegas stage magic scene. Their enthusiasm and crowd-pleasing skills draw the attention of Bally’s mogul Doug Munny (Gandolfini), who grants them a headlining showroom.

Another 10-year leap to the present day, and things have turned sour. Oh, sure, Burt and Anton still pack the house, but the opulent illusions have become rote — repeated day after day, week after week, year after year — and the staunch friendship has frayed.

Actually, it has torn to shreds, thanks to Burt’s insufferably egotistical behavior. Having decided that he’s the entire act — not to mention God’s gift to women — Burt has become a grotesque parody of himself. Magic no longer matters, nor does the “sense of wonder” that sparked his own youthful enthusiasm, so many years ago.

All this is observed with great sadness by Jane (Wilde), a backstage assistant dragged before the crowd one evening, to replace yet another nubile blonde unwilling to tolerate Burt’s behavior any longer. Jane also loves magic — the proper way, hence her presence on the staff — but Burt couldn’t care less. To him, she’s just another potential score.

Crisis erupts with the flamboyant, camera-hogging arrival of Steve Gray (Carrey), an arrogant, weirdly theatrical “guerilla magician” very much in the mold of David Blaine and Criss Angel. Gray’s gory, stunt-laden shtick is more ghastly circus sideshow than genuine magic, but he definitely knows how to win and control a crowd. And that, to Munny, spells money.

Wonderstone isn’t capable of modifying his moldy act; more to the point, he rejects the need to do so. A freak such as Steve Gray couldn’t possibly be the next best thing.

When the dust settles, Wonderstone is alone, unemployed and living in a shabby hotel room. And wondering how it all went wrong.

Scardino capably navigates this delectable premise while savagely skewering its many deserving targets. Costume designer Dayna Pink outfits Wonderstone in the hilariously tacky, chest-baring garb with which we’ve long associated Siegfried & Roy; Burt and Anton’s deliberately corny, story-driven act mostly wastes time while occasionally pausing for the sort of big-big-big illusions beloved by Lance Burton and David Copperfield. (The latter briefly appears in a droll cameo.)

The elevator to Burt’s penthouse home is large enough to be the suite itself, and when Munny embraces his own grand plan to open a new casino, he naturally names it after himself, grinning broadly from a multi-story video screen that beckons passersby to enter.

Gray’s self-abusing, over-the-top stunts are funny because — as Criss Angel’s fans know — they’re not all that exaggerated; Carrey, in turn, nails the lofty attitude and weirdly egotistical patter of such an individual. Indeed, this is by far the best performance Carrey has given in years, and it’s nice to see him back to form.

His penetrating, ferociously manic gaze never has been put to better use.

But the ripe satire, so well set up and delivered, wouldn’t have nearly the bite without the genuine heart that rides alongside. Buscemi’s Anton is a gentle guy who has put up with a lot over the years, and can’t understand how his longtime “best friend” could treat him so badly. Carrey’s Gray, at the other end of the spectrum, is a nasty piece of work: a smug, vicious opportunist who smells blood in the water, and wants to humiliate Wonderstone even more than he wants his own headlining career.

Carell swans his way through Wonderstone’s puffed-up behavior, somehow believing that every emotional failing — every thoughtless, self-centered act or gesture — somehow is a virtue. Wonderstone is the one character who might be too broad at times, notably when he and Marvelton attempt their own street stunt, but Scardino mostly remains on the right side of that razor’s edge separating astute humor from merely stupid slapstick.

More to the point, Carell has the range to switch from broad overstatement to softer pathos; we’ve seen the latter in “Crazy, Stupid, Love” and “Dan in Real Life.” Carell makes us believe that Wonderstone is worth saving.

Arkin further spices the brew, when a much older Rance Holloway pops up in the third act, as a resident in a retirement home for Vegas performers. This is roughly when the story shifts tone, blossoming into an underdog redemption saga with clearly defined heroes and villains.

Holloway’s insistence on the “purity” of magic, particularly close-up magic, obviously requires a certain amount of same in this film. Many (most?) of the illusions are assisted by camera trickery and CGI sweetening, but we are blessed with a few moments of coin/card manipulation and authentic sleight-of-hand. I particularly enjoyed the golf ball routine that Holloway and Wonderstone share with the retirement home residents.

With so many disparate elements, all sorts of things could have gone wrong en route to the finished film … but Scardino pulls it off, with a warm, funny and genuinely entertaining result. And that, too, is quite a trick.

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

“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