It has been fifty-five (55!) years since Peter Sellers first perfected the “idiot detective” routine in The Pink Panther, and here we are again with yet another insignificant variation on the same motif. Rowan Atkinson has done this before, too. I find his Johnny English spy alter-ego generally about half as amusing as his everyman “Mr. Bean.” It’s all in the voice; Mr. Bean is practically mute which means the comedy has to be more creative. Johnny English can strike again and again and again, but until he gets material better than “I forgot my fake spy name,” I prefer Beans over that English toast.
MI7 has been hacked; all UK secret agents have been outed by a single source. I’m not 100% sure how that stops them from doing their jobs; anonymity is just one facet of spydom, and is almost 100% unnecessary for the computer research needed to solve the case. Nevertheless, this proves an excuse to delve into the dark reaches of English intelligence and retrieve retired agent Johnny English (Atkinson) from mothballs.
It takes English all of two minutes to eliminate the celebrity panel of geezer agents (Michael Gambon, Charles Dance, Edward Fox). Is it funny when you accidentally blow up your peers? You know what would have been funny for me is if Atkinson had just blown up Gambon and then added, “that’s for sucking at Dumbledore.” Hmmm, maybe it’s just me. So with nobody at all left in MI7, Johnny English has the job of thwarting all evil by himself (despite being an incompetent boob). He immediately forgoes all computer-related technology so that in little-to-no time our happy-go-lucky good-for-nothing ne’er-do-well can fly under-the-radar so-to-speak … mother-in-law forget-me-not merry-go-round.
The first task is for English and his assistant, Bough (Ben Mller), to pose as French waiters and steal a cell phone from a patron. The scene is equally as subtle as a circus clown playing doubles at Wimbledon and ends up with an outdoor restaurant on fire. One thing I found most ironic about this film is that while the main character deliberately foregoes technology to go about his business, the best laughs in the film are technology dependent as when English clears a cyclist path with an automobile tear gas launcher or a very clever extended scene of English matching virtual reality to genuine reality. If I’m being honest, however, the laughs were very few and very spaced, which is bad news for a pure comedy.
A few odd casting choices permeate this drudge. Emma Thompson takes a turn at being PM after watching her “brother” do so in Love Actually. Emma doesn’t get many turns at silly comedy, but when she does, she nails them (Men in Black 3, Harry Potter and Your Mom) … hence, getting a weak performance out of her in this film I can but attribute to a lousy script. I dunno who cast Jake Lacy (aka “Peefarter”) as the villain, but that call is just wrong, period. I’m guessing Peefarter wants to break away from his spiffy image and show he can play the antagonist – but, dude, you still look like the guy who refuses to do any funny stuff on prom night cuz God said so.
Johnny English Strikes Again is not the worst comedy of the year, but it sure wasn’t worth the effort. It will thankfully die a quick death and be relegated to Netflix where viewers don’t have enough good choices to tell the difference between genuine humor and whatever this was. There is still comic genius within Rowan Atkinson; I think we can all sense it. But this movie found very little of it.
Whether saving a glorified puffin
Or retrieving a sacred MacGuffin
A spy’s game is cool
Yet not for this fool
Tough to stomach this old English muffin’
Rated PG, 89 Minutes
Director: David Kerr
Writer: William Davies
Genre: CSI: Moron-te Carlo
Type of being most likely to enjoy this film: Children without a developed sense of humor
Type of being least likely to enjoy this film: The shtick repellant
