Kingpin (1996, Peter Farrelly & Bobby Farrelly) (Patreon)

42/100

Second viewing, last seen (for some unknown reason; I'd skipped its theatrical release) in 2001. This time I watched the extended cut, which probably just means that there were a few more lowbrow gross-out jokes to leave me stonefaced; early on, the Farrelly Brothers relied heavily on my least favorite comedy mode, and the list of things that are supposed to be funny but did not strike me as even remotely funny grew pretty damn long. Harrelson's terrible combover. Lin Shaye's rotten teeth (as exposed during repeated cunnilingus simulations). Puking after having sex with your rotten-toothed landlord in order to be forgiven a month's past-due rent. Punch to the balls. Kick to the balls. Elbow to the balls followed immediately by another punch to the balls. Bowling ball to the balls. Shitting in a urinal. Rubber prosthetic hand flying across the room and landing on a woman's boob. Female pokies. Male pokies. Multiple punches into enormous fake boobs, accompanied by exaggerated speed-bag sound effects. Amish dude toking a bong. (Is that the correct terminology? I might as well be Amish myself, neither drink nor do any drugs.) Amish dude performing in drag as a stripper. Splattering large chunks of food onto the bathroom mirror while flossing. Some of you are no doubt cracking up just reading this litany, and I truly wish y'all many years of joy watching Kingpin, while I stubbornly stick with Stuck on You. Just not my bag. (You're eventually gonna get the same reaction to Dumb and Dumber.)

Still, it's not painful or anything. Two years before Lebowski, bowling was still a fairly novel comic milieu, and Kingpin is strongest at the outset, when it's most clearly parodying The Color of Money (e.g. Roy discovers Ishmael's gift in a moment that recreates Fast Eddie hearing Vincent's sledgehammer break). Plus it kicks off (and then concludes) with a hefty hunk of Bill Murray, who could not more obviously have improvised most of his performance and even gets to have way more fun with his character's bad hair, as Big Ern's toupée gradually unravels over the course of the climactic tournament. Quaid's become such a noxious wack job in recent years that it's almost sort of painful to watch him embody an endearingly slow-witted innocent, but I can at least "intellectually" appreciate that he manages a tricky tone quite well. And I did laugh at the Borscht Belt-worthy running gag in which Ishmael asks Roy, "What'cha doin', Mr. Munson?" and then, when Roy barks out a single-word dropped-g answer like "Flossin'" or "Barfin'," perplexedly asks himself "Where'd I get Munson from?" But even looking past all the testicular abuse (which would I guess reach its apex in There's Something About Mary, the first film of theirs I sort of warmed to) and other pre-adolescent humor, Peter and Bobby too frequently take the lazy way out—the film all but loses me immediately, when it jumps forward to the then-present day and engineers like half a dozen barn-broad bits that are all predicated on Roy not yet having learned how to use his hook, which he's had at that point for 17 years. (Also, it's obvious to anyone who understands narrative structure that Big Ern will defeat Roy at the end, because a movie like this would never ever ever have the hero win by bowling first and then just waiting to see whether his opponent fails to complete three consecutive strikes. If Roy had any chance at all of winning, he would bowl last, coming from behind.) It's anything for a laugh, and I prefer the brothers' later films, when they became more selective. (Though does that really explain my enjoying The Three Stooges? Hmm.)