Step Brothers Review
By Karen Dahlstrom
Sibling Ribaldry
From producer Judd Apatow comes yet another male coming-of-age tale. Following in the wake of "
The 40 Year Old Virgin", "Knocked Up" and "
Superbad", "Step Brothers" is the story of two middle-aged man-boys who stand at the door to adulthood, yet can't seem to find the handle. Written by Will Ferrell and Adam McKay (who also directs), "Step Brothers" reunites Ferrell with his "
Talladega Nights" second banana, John C. Reilly in this R-rated sausage fest of crude humor, profanity and — yes, it's true — prosthetic genitalia.
As in previous Ferrell/McKay collaborations "Anchorman" and "Talladega Nights", "Step Brothers" is a showcase of absurdist, over-the-top comedy that heavily relies on Ferrell's ability to portray characters who are long on bravado, short on brains and even less on clothing. Here, Ferrell plays Brennan Huff, an unemployed 39-year-old who lives with his mother, Nancy (Mary Steenburgen). When Nancy marries Dr. Robert Doback (Richard Jenkins), Brennan gains a stepfather and a stepbrother, Dale (John C. Reilly). Like Brennan, Dale is 40, lives at home with his father, is unemployed and sees little point in leaving the family nest.
Brennan and Dale immediately take a disliking to each other. Forced to share a room, the tension between them reaches a fever pitch as they torment each other incessantly. After a bonding moment where Dale sticks up for Brennan against his bully of a brother, Derek, the boys realize they have more in common than they thought. (So much so, Ferrell and Reilly appear to be playing exactly the same character, only with varying volume levels and states of undress.) Though now friends, their fighting and shiftlessness has put a strain on their parents' marriage. The boys then concoct a plan to bring them back together and, quite possibly, to grow up in the process.
Instead of achieving the satiric heights of previous Apatow-produced hits like "Superbad" and "The 40-Year-Old Virgin", "Step Brothers" plays more like the lesser works Adam Sandler or the Farrelly Brothers. Fart jokes and profanity abound, with Reilly schlumping around in too-small tee shirts and Underoos and Ferrell indulging in his trademark yelling fits. While Ferrell and Reilly are able to impeccably capture the posturing of preteen boys, they give us nothing more than an impersonation, playing little boys in grown men's bodies rather than men who refuse to grow up.
That task is left to Adam Scott, who steals scene after scene as Brennan's smarmy younger brother, Derek. Unlike Brennan, Derek is a successful businessman, complete with permanently attached earpiece, trophy family and slimy grin. But like Brennan, Derek is unable to let go of his childish behavior — in his case, his high school glory days as big-man-on-campus and insufferable bully. In the car heading to dinner with his mother, he leads his family in an a cappella version of Guns 'N' Roses' "Sweet Child O' Mine". When his wife sings off-key, Derek goes ballistic, nearly causing an accident while screaming at her. It's a strangely random, yet one of the most inspired bits in the film.
As Dale and Brennan's enabling parents, Richard Jenkins and Mary Steenburgen look hardly old enough to have two 40-year-old sons. In fact, Steenburgen seems altogether too classy for this kind of film. But she gamely makes a go of it as Brennan's kind, empathetic, yet spineless mother. Veteran character actor Jenkins (who gave an Oscar-worthy performance this year in "The Visitor") finally gets a shot at broad comedy. He attacks it with a kind of perverse relish slowly revealing Robert's own struggle with the man-boy within.
While much of "Step Brothers" is mired in juvenile shock comedy and interminable yelling, there are some great moments: A fight between Dale, Brennan and two dozen schoolyard bullies (calling to mind the rumble scene in "Anchorman"), several flashback and fantasy sequences, and, of course, the scene featuring an "'80s only" Billy Joel cover band. Yet, the glimmers of genius don't do enough to stifle the feeling that — like that of fellow SNL alums Sandler and Mike Myers — Ferrell's schtick is simply running out of gas.
