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Starsky and Hutch
Reviewed by Edward Larsen Terkelsen

USA, PG-13, 101 m, 2004
Directed by Todd Phillips. Stars Ben Stiller, Owen Wilson, Snoop Dog, et al.

 

Given the alarming state of the movies these days, the last thing I’m looking for at my local multiplex is another goddamned tribute to moldy tee-vee shows! After suffering through The Brady Bunch Movie, Charlie’s Angels and Mission: Impossible (and, of course, all of their inevitable sequels), I had hoped (nay, prayed) that the trend would’ve run its course by now. But when greenbacks determine what kind of fare the moguls in Hollywood will be churning out, it’s positively mad to expect those avaricious assholes to exhibit any originality when audiences seem more than happy to line up time and time again for their retro dreck. The problem isn’t just that studios are more at ease with marketing a proven commodity, it’s that audiences have lost their daring, and routinely skip over titles that don’t contain a well-known formula. (It doesn’t help either that the lion’s share of filmmakers these days are baby-boomers; they’re steeped in nostalgia for a childhood that consisted of little more than pissing away playtime by staring at the boob tube.) So (imagine a sigh here) we now have Starsky and Hutch, which isn’t a smug goof on its inspiration a la The Brady Bunch Movie, but it’s conversely indecisive about what it wants to be. Is it a straightforward cops ‘n’ robbers yarn or a winking ode to the genre? A little bit of both, I guess, but not really enough of either. Truth be told, I haven’t a clue as to why a run-of-the-mill cop show such as “Starsky & Hutch” merited a big-screen treatment over more worthy candidates on the order of, say, “CHiPs” or “Run, Joe, Run.” (Only kidding.) The series didn’t even command enough of a following to get beyond three seasons, so it’s hard to imagine much of a built-in audience for another go at it. Yes, I watched the show a couple of times when I was young, but those episodes have long since dimmed from memory, so I can’t accurately speak to what virtues the show might’ve had anyway. (I must’ve been too busy back then dreaming up my own adventures with my Mego “Starsky & Hutch” action figures.) Based upon this new picture’s screenplay, though, it looks like there wasn’t much of a hook to begin with other than the tired formula of two mismatched cops being forced to walk the same beat. That could be enough of a premise to warrant the umpteenth reunion for Ben Stiller and Owen Wilson (Lord knows they played beautiful music together in Stiller’s Zoolander), but director Todd Philips appears more concerned with all those hideous 1970s appurtenances (over-sized collars, bell-bottoms, perms) than coming up with material that would fully capitalize on his lead actors’ comic specialties.  

In tonight’s episode, Bay City cops Ken Hutchinson and David Starsky (Owen and Stiller respectively) are on the trail of an oily drug magnate, Reese Feldman (Vince Vaughan), who’s looking to flood the area with a new variety of cocaine that has been modified to taste like artificial sweetener and elude the refined sniffers of police dogs. Okay, the plot here doesn’t amount to a hill of beans; it exists as a means of stringing together situations that’ll get the most mileage out of Starsky and Hutch’s contradictory styles. Starsky is by-the-book; Hutch, a loose canon. (When we first catch up with the latter, he’s so disillusioned with police work that he’s pulling heists.) Stiller’s a master at the slow burn, so his mounting irritation with Hutch’s brazen indifference to proper police procedure is good for a few chuckles. But Stiller’s big moment arrives when his character accidentally adds a packet of “new coke” to his coffee and winds up shaking one mean tail-feather at a local discotheque. His unorthodox style of boogieing down draws the attention of a resident hipster (a Ron Jeremy look-alike), which results in the two throwing down in a “dance-off” that echoes the runway competition between Stiller and Wilson in Zoolander. (Come to think of it, this film is just one big collection of borrowings.) Wilson gets plenty of moments to shine, too. My favorite is when he picks up a guitar and performs “Don’t Give Up on Us, Baby,” an homage to the original Hutch (and one-hit-wonder), David Soul.  

Vaughan, on the other hand, is sadly wasted as the requisite baddie. You can certainly fault the movie’s committee of featureless scribes for this thinly drawn character, but Vaughan doesn’t seem interested in pulling up the slack for he brings nothing to the party but a Fu-Manchu mustache. (Vaughan is wasting himself with this phoned-in performance.) Juliette Lewis is also underused (and laughably miscast) as his bikini-clad squeeze. (What’s happened to Lewis’s career anyway? Why is she now being relegated to second-banana status in schlocky fare such as Cold Creek Manor and Enough?) The supporting players that do make an impression are, of course, that souped-up Ford Gran Torino and Snoop Dog as the too-cool-for-school pimp/informant Huggy Bear. Though he’s no Olivier, Dog has lots of fun and games with his own superfly persona, and I daresay you’ll have fun with it, too. Just keep your meat hooks off his flashy duds. Nobody—and I mean NOBODY—touches the Bear!  

During the film’s final act, Starsky and Hutch must assume a set of disguises in order to infiltrate a doings thrown by Feldman and seize his cache of dope. Starsky’s alter-ego is a riff on the obnoxious “no, no, no guy” Stiller invented for the great, but short-lived “Ben Stiller Show.” It’s always been one of my favorite gags (I often torture my fiancée with endless recitations of “do it”), but anybody familiar with it will wonder why Stiller elected to plagiarize his own material for this substandard tomfoolery. There’s no bigger fan of Ben Stiller than yours truly, but I’m beginning to fear that there’s a hole taking shape in the bottom of his bag o’ tricks.   

Starsky & Hutch is good-natured fluff, but too many promising bits—like the title characters sneaking into the bat mitzvah of Feldman’s daughter dressed as mimes—aren’t carried through to the zany climaxes we long for. (The film is all set-ups and no pay-offs.) I also could’ve done without Starsky accidentally firing a round into the little girl’s pony. Sure, the Farrelly Brothers often subject their four-legged thespians (as well as their bipedal counterparts) to all sorts of Three Stooges-style abuse, but those unfortunate critters always live to tell the tale. (Remember that sidesplitting cut to the pooch in the body cast in Something about Mary?) As an animal lover, it’s easy for me to spot a kindred spirit behind the camera, and I’m betting Philips isn’t a card-carrying member of PETA.  

Starsky & Hutch is the kind of watery filmmaking that draws largely noncommittal reviews from the press. Most of the notices I looked over on the Internet Movie Database share the same indifference, but there are a couple of articles worth mentioning. Believe it or not, the pudgy thumbed Roger Ebert had a rare moment of clarity when he noted in his evaluation of Starsky & Hutch that the ampersand used in the film’s title was representative of a generation of moviegoers that has become “too impatient for ‘and.’” David Edelstein’s review, on the other hand, is a howler of PC (read: anti-WASP) twaddle. He suggests that assigning impotent traits to Starsky instead of his blonde-haired, blue-eyed counterpart is as much of an affront to the Jewish people as supposedly Mel Gibson’s Passion was. Worse, when referencing Huggy Bear, Edelstein attempts to reaffirm his bond with the brothers by reminding us that “blacks and Jews had come through the civil rights movement together” and, get this, “collaborated on many blaxploitation classics.” Hey, I guess this makes Mr. Edelstein an honorary black man! (Can you say “schmuck,” ladies and gentlemen?) Even a glass eye in a dog’s ass can see that Mr. Edelstein is using the acronym WASP not unlike a racial slur; he punches it many times with the same venomous spittle others reserve for “nigger” or “kike.” Is he unaware that countless WASPs also participated in those civil rights marches? Perhaps even David Soul. I mean, with a surname like that, how could he not have?

 

© Copyright 2007 by Edward Larsen Terkelsen. All rights reserved.

 

 

 

 

 

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