‘The Happytime Murders’ is a dispirited effort

Some films are released. Others escape. “The Happytime Murders” must have broken free from confinement in the Hollywood Asylum for Incurable Comedies, joining the late-summer crowd of getaway action embarrassments and unlovable romances.

This film noir parody full of faux-fur puppets is completely threadbare. It takes us to a present-day Los Angeles where humans and motion-captured Muppet-ish characters coexist, with unease in both camps. People often treat the sewn- together subgroup with chauvinist disdain and call them by the F word: Fuzzy.

They have little protection except for detective Phil Phillips (voice artist Bill Barretta), a blue-colored, hard-drinking ex-cop who narrates the story like Elmore Leonard with writer’s block. Even though he’s stuffed with fluff, Phil can throw a knockdown punch and stomp a human thug into mincemeat, as we are shown in a fight scene of surprising length.

Phil’s big case comes from a furry little vixen (voiced by Dorien Davies) who couldn’t possibly be a manipulative femme fatale in disguise, could she? Please wait while I check every detective film ever made.

She sends him off to investigate a blackmail letter that leads him to a scene where a murder is committed behind his back. Phil becomes the prime suspect among some of his former LAPD colleagues, including his ex- partner, Det. Connie Edwards (Melissa McCarthy).

The victim was a puppet who co-starred with Phil’s brother on a popular TV show of yesteryear, and as the other cast members are offed one after another, their fluff stuffing cascades down like a snow flurry.

The point of diminishing returns is reached about 15 minutes in. Unlike other human/ pretend hybrids like “Who Framed Roger Rabbit” or “Ted,” this movie overplays the novelty and surprise of its gimmick far too early.

Most of the creations lack the googley-eyed innocence of their processors, and it’s established from the outset that we shouldn’t expect them to be on good behavior. The first unexpected sex scene between a puppet cow and octopus works on sheer shock value. Following that by introducing puppet hookers, nymphos, addicts and peep-show creeps spewing torrents of the human F word rapidly wears out its welcome.

The same goes for the film’s nearly nonstop violence. A tug of war some dogs play with a living puppet that they treat like a stuffed toy gives “Happytown” a sense of absurdity.

From the start, director Brian Henson ( Muppet maestro Jim Henson’s son) aggressively pushes the envelope of the R rating, firing off a deluge of dialog, action and imagery that is intended to be funny because it’s gross.

No film starring McCarthy is entirely without l aughs, and t here are moments here. Still, even at a trim 80 minutes, it feels overlong. This dispiriting effort is Henson’s first entry of his new division’s adult productions, Henson Alternative. So much for beginner’s luck.