★ ★ ☆ ☆ ☆
Louis Leterrier directs this zippy but far too humourless
action comedy from Sacha Baron Cohen. Cohen stars as Nobby Butcher, a benefits-hoarding
layabout who aches for the return of his long-lost brother Seb (Mark Strong).
When the two finally cross paths, we discover that Seb is now a secret agent on
behalf of queen and country, and Nobby’s interference in a critical assignment means
the two must disappear back into the bowels of the town they call home:
Grimsby.
Cohen is renowned for a less-than PC approach to comedy,
but the stupefying, in-your-face brashness of Borat set a high bar that his following output has failed miserably
to reach. Save for a dash of audacious offensiveness crammed into the botched
opening mission, there’s really nothing to get riled up about, especially when
later gags are made at the expense of Donald Trump. Talk about soft targets!
With political raspberry-blowing all but absent, we’re
resigned to gross-out toilet routines the like of which The Inbetweeners could top on a sick day. Sporadically astute
one-liners are not so much recycled in later stages as dragged clumsily from the
scrap-pile. Lonely exception is found in an extended scene of searing,
retch-inducing vileness in the face of which – more than a little shamefully –
I was reduced to chokes of stomach-churning laughter.
Strong could play a spy in his sleep, and one hopes that he’ll
find comedy work in future that leaves him looking less embarrassed as Cohen (all
Liam Gallagher hair and beer belly) prances around him slurring unconvincing
Northern dialect. A central schmaltzy plotline accompanies the two, a narrative
effort so unconvincing that by the time we find England playing in the world
cup final, suspension of disbelief has long since departed.
Bereaved of decent material, accomplished secondary players
are stranded without saving grace. Penelope Cruz, Ricky Tomlinson and Tamsin
Egerton are cast in blink-and-you’ll-miss-them roles, and Isla Fisher is the
exasperated mumsy left to clear up after our doomed duo. Rebel Wilson regrettably
tarnishes her recent winning streak as pratfall hand du jour Lindsey, Nobby’s
devoted wife.
I wonder how far into production Leterrier realised he wasn’t
supposed to be making another Transporter
movie. At least half of Grimsby’s
nippy 80 minutes is devoted to extravagantly breakneck fare that – while capably
directed, for sure – smacks of cop-out when the laughs run dry again.
Grimsby is a poor
show, but contains such sparing use of Cohen’s trademark shock tactics that it
barely registers as gross, let alone controversial. Far more interested in committing
itself to the fate of a mediocre action movie than the sub-par comedy it would
otherwise be, it’s all walk and no talk.
