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‘Observe and Report’

Oddball characters overpopulate a mean-spirited film that reaches for the lowest rungs of humor

By Bob Brown
HERE’S yet another film that capitalizes on Seth Rogen’s appeal as the everyman for our age, assuming that today’s everyman must be flawed and still lovable. In most of his movies, often in collaboration with Judd Apatow, Rogen is a sort of the 21st-century stoner equivalent of an early Woody Allen — but without the intellectual heft.
   Here he plays Ronnie Barnhardt, chief security guard at a suburban mall. Ronnie has delusions of grandeur far beyond his reach. For one thing, Ronnie is lord of a small, insignificant domain (and malls are becoming smaller and less significant as the recession wears on). For another, he is on meds for bipolar disorder. And for a third strike, although not the final one, he lives with his chronically stumble-down-drunk mother (Celia Weston). Because of his over-eager personality and his tasteless attire, Ronnie has trouble attracting hot chicks, such as the cosmetics saleswoman Brandi (Anna Faris).
   Like schlemiels throughout history, Ronnie dreams of transcending his limitations with just one world-class heroic deed. An opportunity presents itself when a flasher accosts women in the mall parking lot. Ronnie will collar the rain-coated culprit and win the admiration of his betters and the hearts of women.
   But his pride is wounded when his boss, Mark (Dan Bakkedahl), calls in the local police, and Detective Harrison (Ray Liotta) arrives to scope out the case. Determined not to be pushed aside, Ronnie applies to join the force himself. As a real policeman, he can get the greater firepower and respect that his ambitions deserve. Harrison and the boys at the station consider Ronnie a joke and an impediment to their serious work. It turns into a clash of wills.
   Writer-director Jody Hill has set out a premise that, on paper, promised a winning combination. But he lacks Apatow’s comic instincts. To compensate, he overpopulates the film with oddball characters, who are there merely for effect. They are the mall milieu that define Ronnie as the chief loser among losers. Brandi is the boozy blond bimbo that every movie like this seems to demand. And Ronnie’s Taser-armed comrades include the Yuan twins, John and Matt (played by the Yuen twins, John and Matt, who are as expressive as brass bookends), and the timid red-headed kid Charles (Jesse Plemons).
   The oddest of them is fellow security guard Dennis (Michael Peña). Peña lisps his way through an embarrassing caricature of a Mexican druggy who takes it out on the oppressive system. In fact, except for Rogen, who manages to rise above the material, all of the fine character actors are wasted in stock roles that reach for, and miss, the lowest rungs of humor.
   Weston has done some excellent work, most notably in Junebug. But how funny is a mother who expects her son to lift her out of her vomit after all-night benders? For Mom, going on the wagon means switching to beer so she can drink longer with milder effects.
   Even Rogen seems lost in the obligatory stoner sequence (has he ever been in a role where he doesn’t take many tokes?). It’s now such a cliché, perhaps he was thinking of moving beyond the materials that have defined him. And what is Liotta doing in this movie? He’s such an intense actor, his mere presence tends to suck all the levity out of a room. That’s one reason this film is so unbalanced, mixing attempts at ribald humor (the F-word is milked mercilessly) with pathos and violence. Even people with disabilities are picked on just to set up what should be, but isn’t, a satisfying finale.
   The entire film was shot on location in New Mexico, the new cheaper Hollywood of the West. It’s a perfect location for Westerns, of course, since the landscapes can look like anything from Montana down to Mexico. But around Albuquerque, it also has dreary malls that can pass for Anywhere U.S.A., including lesser parts of New Jersey. Who knew? Kevin Smith, your new national armpit is calling.
   And speaking of New Jersey, this film will inevitably be compared with Paul Blart: Mall Cop. The mall cop conceit is the main similarity. But Kevin James and Seth Rogen are entirely different actors. This movie wants to be more than a mall cop caper.
   Its problem, however, is summed up in a line from Detective Nichols (Ben Best), who has been hiding in a closet to catch the fun while Detective Harrison humiliates Ronnie yet again. The expected hilarity fizzles, and Nichols emerges, saying, “I thought this was going to be funny. But it’s sad.” Sad as in pathetic. The film’s mean-spirited undercurrent lacks the sense of humanity that characterizes many other Seth Rogen vehicles, four-letter words and all.
Rated R for pervasive language, graphic nudity, drug use, sexual content and violence.