Death at a Funeral Review

Apr 15, 2010 | 5:21pm EDT

Though best-known for his stand-up work in acclaimed HBO specials like Bring the Pain Never Scared and Kill the Messenger funnyman Chris Rock has also found success in both TV and film -- enough presumably to allow him the freedom to pursue just about any project he wants. Why he chose to remake Death at a Funeral an indie comedy from the UK that received a decidedly lukewarm reception when it debuted in 2007 is anybody’s guess. Even more perplexing is why Neil LaBute a brainy director who made his name probing humanity’s dark side with acerbic dramas In the Company of Men and Your Friends & Neighbors chose to direct it.

Immersed in an ensemble overloaded with comedic dead weight Rock gets few chances to showcase his caustic wit as Aaron a levelheaded tax accountant tasked with presiding over a chaotic memorial service for his father. That’s because LaBute thinks our time is better spent watching James Marsden make funny faces or hearing Tracy Morgan complain about a skin rash. In fact almost the entire first half of the film is devoted to the former with Marsden engaged in a prolonged slapstick routine as a character unwittingly plied with a giant hit of acid. Which is about as funny as it sounds.

Were LaBute not so inordinately focused on Marsden’s wearisome bit he might have found a use for Luke Wilson whose character is almost completely pointless or Danny Glover whose big moment in Death at a Funeral comes as the centerpiece of scat gag that leaves Morgan covered in his feces. Classy! When he isn’t soaking in Glover's sh*t Morgan does little to redeem himself after his Cop Out debacle lingering perpetually in a sort of comedic limbo a funny punchline always just out of reach.

Death at a Funeral eventually picks up steam when Rock faces off with Peter Dinklage playing a would-be extortionist who arrives at the funeral with damaging revelations about the deceased. It’s enough to end the film on a high note but not enough to redeem it as a whole. By the time the titular “death” arrived I’d long ago begun to wonder if it might have been intended as a metaphor one perhaps signifying the demise of creativity. Or good taste. Or LaBute’s career.

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