‘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 laughs, and there 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.