Night at the Roxbury, A

A Film Review by James Berardinelli

United States, 1998
U.S. Release Date: 10/2/98 (wide)
Running Length: 1:27
MPAA Classification: PG-13 (Nudity, profanity, sexual innuendo)
Theatrical Aspect Ratio: 1.85:1

Cast: Will Ferrell, Chris Kattan, Dan Hedaya, Molly Shannon, Richard Grieco, Loni Anderson, Elisa Donovan, Gigi Rice, Meredith Scott Lynn, Chazz Palminteri
Director: John Fortenberry
Producers: Lorne Michaels, Amy Heckerling
Screenplay: Steve Koren and Will Ferrell & Chris Kattan
Cinematography: Francis Kenny
Music: David Kitay
U.S. Distributor: Paramount Pictures

Every once in a while, a movie comes along that is so boring and pointless, that those faithful movie-goers who never walk out on a film have to find some alternative to watching the mind- numbing stupidity unfolding on the screen. One such movie is A Night at the Roxbury. So, as a public service, here are three things you can do if you find yourself trapped in (and, for whatever reason, unable to leave) a theater showing this picture:

Calculate the number of seconds between now and January 1, 2000. Fingers and toes allowed. Pocket calculators are cheating.
Contemplate the age-old question of "Can an omnipotent god create an object that even he cannot move?" If you figure it out, don't shout the answer. Instead, proceed to the nearest university for your honorary doctorate.
Try to determine the pitch line that was used to convince someone to greenlight this movie. Compared to this, #2 is child's play.

With the exception of The Blues Brothers and perhaps Wayne's World, none of the numerous Saturday Night Live spin-offs have been any good. Yet, with A Night at the Roxbury, the feature-length adventures of the dumb-and-dumber brothers Doug and Steve Butabi (Chris Kattan and Will Ferrell), things have reached a new low. This skit wasn't particularly funny in its seven-minute incarnation on television. It's immeasurably worse when stretched to 12 times its intended length and projected on a big screen. There are more laughs in Saving Private Ryan - and that's not hyperbole.

Those who have endured the last few years of Saturday Night Live will recognize the Butabis - spastic losers who spend every night out clubbing while displaying a complete lack of social skills, a dearth of fashion sense, and the ability to turn off even the most desperate woman. In A Night at the Roxbury, they're pursuing their dream of owning a nightclub. When chance (in the person of ex-21 Jump Street star Richard Greico) gets them into the hottest spot in town, the Roxbury, and has them seated at the same table as the owner (Chazz Palminteri, hidden beneath facial hair), they sense an opportunity to attain that goal.

I suppose there's going to be a soundtrack CD for this movie, although it seemed like there was just one song, played over and over again, ad nauseum. John Fortenberry's direction could charitably be called uninspired. Joke after joke falls flat either because (a) they're not funny, (b) the delivery is all wrong, or (most frequently) (c) both. An attempted parody of a pivotal scene from Jerry Maguire comes across as lame and not the least bit amusing. The entire movie is like this: a litany of failed humor. And it's shocking how many comic possibilities are passed up. The premise is not inherently without possibilities (why not lampoon films like 54?), but the lure of the cheap, quick punch line is too great.

I think we're supposed to identify with the Butabis, but I had about as much empathy for them as I did for the feather in Forrest Gump. Consequently, the only function of the character-building scenes that litter the second half is to build up the running time and deepen the sleep of those who have dozed off. As for the acting... suffice it to say that the only one in the cast with a reputation to protect (Chazz Palminteri) had the good sense to have his name removed from the credits. Almost everyone else is either a no-name or a has-been (Loni Anderson, Richard Greico).

I am tempted to say that no one could possibly enjoy this movie, but that statement would be insulting to the small cadre of people who will invariably like the emaciated pickings offered by A Night at the Roxbury. Instead, I'll offer the following observation: anyone who is more than momentarily diverted by this motion picture has such a radically different idea from me of what constitutes "entertainment" that we may never agree on anything. At 87 minutes in length, A Night at the Roxbury is nearly an hour and a half too long.

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