Movie Review: Forgetting Sarah Marshall
The latest project to emerge from the Judd Apatow stable, Forgetting Sarah Marshall has - for UK audiences - one defining aspect that may well put you off seeing the film altogether: Russell Brand is in it. Yes, that Russell Brand - the gurning, repetitive Beetlejuice tribute act who just won’t go away no matter how much we pray to Baby Jesus.
But… wait. There’s more.
If you were to avoid the movie because of his appearance, you’d be making a mistake. Why? Well, two reasons. A) Forgetting Sarah Marshall is a well-acted, superbly observed, snort-into-your-popcorn comic romp that intertwines both sharp characterisation and penis gags with winning effect. B) Russell Brand isn’t actually that bad in it. No. Seriously.
Don’t get hecklerspray wrong - we’re not suddenly fans of his. It’s just that his role as an egotistical rock star is supposed to be annoying. Therefore it works. Got that? Good. Just so we’re clear.
The main narrative revolves around TV music composer Peter Bretter (Jason Segal) whose girlfriend Sarah (Kristen Bell) also happens to be the star of the show he writes for. The show itself - Crime Scene: Scene Of The Crime - is a spot-on parody of the glut of CSI shows presently being churned out by US television, and gives Sarah Marshall a satirical edge that wasn’t quite so prominent in Knocked Up or Superbad.
Satire will only get you so far, though, which is why the rest of the movie simplifies things to a straightforward - and arguably ingenious - setup. Peter is dumped by Sarah, so decides to forget his troubles by holidaying in Hawaii. The only trouble is that Sarah and her new boyfriend - Brand himself - are on vacation there too. Hence all sorts of embarrassing scrapes and encounters.
Don’t worry: while this sounds like the premise for a dodgy eighties sitcom, it actually allows for a number of highly funny set pieces and great side characters - Bill Hader and Paul Rudd make excellent turns as geeky friend and beach bum stoner, while the staggeringly beautiful Mila Kunis adds a second love interest to proceedings, proving along the way that she’s about as far from the character she voices in Family Guy as possible.
It does have flaws - it’s overlong, and things get a little more predictable towards the end - but otherwise it’s a fresh, funny and surprisingly sweet take on the nature of relationships that made even a cynical wreck like hecklerspray feel good.
You don’t get much more of a glowing endorsement than that, trust us. So go check it out.
Forgetting Sarah Marshall opens in the UK on April 23.
Fucking hell, are you feeling alright? “it’s a fresh, funny and surprisingly sweet take on the nature of relationships “? I suggest you watch something with zombies in it, sharpish.
I haven’t seen this movie yet (had to watch Harold & Kumar first!), but apparently all the real “sarah Marshalls” are pissed with the ad campaign and are lashing back!
http://bigpicture.fancast.com/2008/04/fancast_feature_sarah_marshall.html
CJ: where’s the heckle in your spray?
If this is becoming Reviewerspray then I’m heading over
to BoredOffMyTitsSpray, directly.
Euclid, it’s tough, you try hating all the time - and I don’t just mean when you look in the mirror. Zing! I don’t even know what you look like either. I’m guessing you have hands and a head.
Don’t you all worry. I’ve happened to review a couple of things that I like of late, that’s all (including today’s Tindersticks album). I’ll be back to calling for the death of Pete Doherty in no time, promise.
And not all my reviews are glowing:
http://www.hecklerspray.com/film-review-hostel-part-ii/20078960.php
CJ - I was heckling specific, not in general,
you having previously demonstrated your hecklebility admirably.
I remain uncertain of this whole “things I like” trend, however.
Everything is heckleble, most especially oneself (CL) and
the things one admires. Our tastes are after all capricious beasts.
For the record, CL, there is an ocean of difference between heckling and hating;
I aim to heckle all, myself included, freely, without the taint or burden of hatred.
Also, I do not have hands and I find it very handsist of you to assume that I do. I have had my teeth specially wired to the computer and type upon them using my feet which are usually to be found in my mouth. Due to a tragic childhood incident, my hands were
replaced with a waffle iron (left) and sandwich press (right), and cannot therefore be
properly described as hands. Nonetheless, I am an excellent guest to have over
for brunch. My twisted and gnarled misshapen body is too small to afford me the
luxury of heckling myself in a mirror. I must use the hubcaps of old cars when out for
a wheel around the block if I want to heckle myself to my face. (Note: dogs ARE a nuisance.)
So there you have it: I am a shining beacon of Love, directing my torrent of
well-intended and ill-reasoned abuse into the starless chasm of the Internet with the selfless aspiration of firming somewhat the many soft brains to be found, like so may over-ripe cantaloupes, there. (Apologies to gir for all the words.)
If you can’t say it with a few glib, dismissive words, don’t say it at all.
That’s my motto.
Yep. Ocean, something about waffle irons. Couldn’t agree with you more.
I am a true artist like Ballsack Pete and suffer for my art
by typing until my gums bleed and my toes chafe, and my suffering
makes me holy, just as your reading until your eyes bleed
makes you holy too, so I am increasing the world’s quotient of
suffering and therefore holiness which as any fan of the Libertines
will readily testify is the whole point of popular culture, etc.â„¢
Got as far as ‘I’. Sure it was good though.
That’s the spirit Laverty.
.
That’s great! I normally never get jokes.
It was a good movie, but the beginning joke ran on way too long … all that crying
Russell Brand was the best thing in the movie! I’m glad I didn’t already know who he was, it may have prejudices me.