The Film…
The Players…
Jason Bateman and Melissa McCarthy, with Amanda Peet, John Cho, Robert Patrick, Tip Harris, Genesis Rodríguez, Eric Stonestreet, Morris Chestnut, Johnathan Banks, Jon Favreau and a partridge in a pear tree.
The Plot…
Sandy is an upstanding citizen. He’s a family man, clean cut…and a chump. He’s always two steps behind opportunity, always guarded and always worried. His high stress job brings in just enough to get by, and can’t allow much for discretionary spending and must protect his finances for the greater good of his family.
So when Sandy calls him at work promising identity protection Sandy is more than willing to inform Sandy of his personal info to avoid credit fraud. Sandy thanks Sandy for the service and work goes on. Until Sandy hits up the local ATM and all his funds are gone. All of them. All. Of. Them.
Looks like Sandy was an identity thief, and now Sandy is living it up on Sandy’s paychecks.
Sounds complicated? It is.
The Intro…
Hey! Welcome back! A big thanks to you and my non-patreons not giving up on me. I appreciate your patience. I mean come on, we all need a break now and then, if only to avoid burnout and rage quitting. Nice to be back.
It’s been 10 years here at RIORI, and over 200 mediocre movies under the belt since 2014. Well, in all honesty RIORI began as a loose experiment in ’13 where my posts were on FaceBook. My friends dared me to get my sh*t on some other social media platform (cuz they were probably sick of my tl;dr screeds). I understood, and signed up on WordPress the following year. So here we are a decade later. Again thanks for your support. Wine coolers all around.
It’s funny that based on a dare from one of my then co-workers and accidental founder of this blog—his name was Jordan Harms, bless him—we’ve come so far. What was once a lark has become a second job. Kinda like how Steve Wozniuk was just tooling around in his garage, but Steve Jobs was the mouth. Such a hardscrabble hobby has become a legit blog. Well, somewhat legit being based on a dare. That and on too many thumbs down on FaceBook. With all due respect go f*ck yourselves. I mean that with love.
I’ve been quite surprised. Most films here under the scalpel have been pretty good, some just okay and others needed to be watched with the bomb squad and a Geiger counter at the ready. We could all deal with worse, like the next Michael Bay project or how disappointing the recent Ant-Man flick was. Or the recent MCU output in general.
All things not considered, it’s nice to have you back. I’ve had hundreds of posts screaming at me where I’ve been. The best answer?
It was intermission…
The Rant…
Admit it. It’s happened to you at least once.
Since the odd kismet scanning The Road back in the pandemic’s infancy, your online life can be unravelled so easily as much as your waking life, either by carelessness or the occasional meteor strike. It has become as predictable as the tidal currants. Might’ve happened decades to you well before COVID laid open range to porch piracy. And even during the pandemic we’ve made Jeff Bezos the envy of Croceus. Seems almost all of us have given in to the economy of boredom, and boy is PayPal fatigued It’s been pretty sucky not able to just head down to the supermarket for eggs (cuz they were not there); even K uses my addy as her online depot. She sure orders a lot of Nutri-Grain bars. I never asked about all that aquarium gravel. Happy girl, happy world.
Ahem.
The first happened it happened to me was on eBay 20 plus years hence. I made a strangers’ call to some robokiller trap. Again. Does this sound familiar?
This has happened to you. Might have if you were careless in your surfing. Buying some crap without a Captcha test. That email was known spam, you dope. We’re talking about getting hacked. Some very smart idiot assaults your email, Facebook or even back account so you ended up getting had. Or worse. And all because of your wanton needs for new filters on you TikTok profile, or fresh HEPA filters for your central A/C. Later on your hard drive looks like a flea market and…are rage quitting but the PS5 is off. Nevertheless the anger is the 21st Century’s version of pizza bombing a complete stranger. Got yer bank card you rube from Philadelphia, Pennsylvania giggles the dork from Aurora, Colorado (wink wink, nudge nudge).
I got hacked a few months ago. Actually I think it was longer than that. I kept receiving these poorly spelled email threats with the prerequisite improper grammar anathema from some kook claiming he hacked one of my email accounts, knew the password and demanded $400 to keep him away. In my callow, whatever Ethiopian prince demanded I was like, “Yeah right!” deleted his spam and returned to negotiate personal expenses with my bank. Turns out getting insurance for a classic PS2 Slim was not within their services.
Then one fateful day…
Nasty porn, inbox clogged with very sad people. Couldn’t even open the mailbox it was so jammed with promises of being knee deep in Asian teens, Chilean snuff films and worst of all posts of ugly OnlyFans influencers. I can’t lie. I partake of adult films one in a while. Sexy. Sultry. Bad dialogue like “Ride me you big dog!” However when some fluffer has to apply their trade by jamming a lamp into someone’s anus? Even I have limits.
It was a deluge of desperate smut for weeks, and I eventually had had enough. I contacted my email provider and told them to shut it off. Delete the mailbox. Lose the trail. Enough orifices applied for what they weren’t intended. Got unplugged and proceeded to change all my business contacts.
Okay: now here comes the point about why getting hacked really sucks. I call it rebuilding the dam. You see I have (had) three email accounts reserved for very specific subjects. One is for K. Another is for fun stuff like eBay alerts, notifications from the community radio station I occasionally volunteer at as well as comments for RIORI. The third (the business one) was reserved for billing, credit cards, work stuff, keeping updated on how the kid’s doing at school, etc. I had many, many contacts to correct and redirect. It was frustrating, time consuming and rather embarrassing. Rebuilding the dam. Picking up the bits and bytes and bricks with some digital mortar at the ready. Not to mention a curtain of apologetic emails.
“Sorry to say, but my email account got corrupted, and…”
It might have happened to you. Hopefully just once. Still very embarrassing and equally frustrating.
I didn’t drop the contacts en toto as some precaution. Had a wild idea that maybe I could resuscitate the corrupted account. After a month or so I ventured calling EarthLink (yes, I use EarthLink. Have so for over 20 years, ever since SegaNet crashed, and that’s for another time). The tech restored the address. I checked the spam blocker wincing a few weeks later becasue I am dumb. Surprise! 400+ nasty messages dripping with underage girl parts and boy parts alike. Amazing as well as awful. Delete. No thank you Prince of Ethiopia.
Having one’s email account hacked is a stunning inconvenience. But in hindsight that was all that it was. And no, I was not so curious to open any of these links. The headers alone would send any Puritan speeding towards the horizon.
Oh and by the way it happened again the other week. Figured I was in the clear and the hackers went looking afar for more fallow fields. Nope. Even more poorly phrased threats and a mire of tawdry links designed to please even the most introverted D&D player. Most of those geeks are pretty smart, so my smarts were behind an orc’s. You’ve heard that expression that when you don’t succeed try again. There’s a corollary to that tired saw: know when to quit. Enough was enough.
Last straw. No more business inbox, therefore no more scamming. Undid what needed undoing and haven’t looked back since. I hope my original SegaNet domain stays alive as the blogger jinxes himself. Good thing the Dreamcast died 20 years ago. Like that would deter the most determined Ethiopian Prince…
The Story…
Ever wonder why robocalls exist? It’s because they work. It’s based on the rules of supply and demand, but backwards. For every unsolicited call from Marathon, FL there must be enough dolts to answer, get taken for a ride, lose their credit card number and the cycle rolls on. Heck, even the smartest folks can be had sometimes. Roll of the dice.
Ask Sandy (Bateman). High flying businessman, capable, works well in the clutch and put upon thanks to his doofus boss. He’s too busy to realize he’s a patsy. Too busy to realize that the courtesy credit card warning was a hoax. Shortly after—poof—Sandy’s bank account in smoke and mirrors and Sandy (McCarthy) has scored another prize. Another bank account. Another identity. Cackle.
Being wiped from financial reality, Sandy takes the last straw first. He’s going to catch this charlatan red-handed. He declares to his family he’s gonna track down this Sandy (McCarthy) and steal back his identity, by hook or by crook.
Mostly crook.
The Breakdown…
Okay. First off this movie was in dire need of an editor. An assumed breezy, screwball comedy should not be so drawn out as to waft PSA vibes. There was something missing here, and it was focus. Shame.
The plot was simple enough: identity theft. It was the subject of the then new Internet—sinister, cold and terra incognito—back in the florid 90s, akin to your grandparents’ first time poking around with a VHS. Apes around the monolith, and even Hollywood wasn’t sure what to do with this digital plot device. Sandra Bullock’s follow up to her breakout performance in Speed begat the trifle The Net. Nowadays it was simple tale about—insert Jaws theme—identity theft, directed by the late William Friedken. Back in the mid-90s identity theft was the stuff of Orwellian nightmare; the eyes in the sky could snatch your life away. Loss is gain.
Back in 1995 this idea was the stuff of s/f nightmare, well before identity theft was a common issue, if not a reality. Now it’s commonplace, so much so that we can make a comedy about it. That’s kind of icky if you think about it, but such a plot device has been used before to better effect. Please, take a seat. I’ve cleaned the whiteboard.
This installment has some of those compare and contrast examples. Namely a pair of much better films that informed Thief in its execution with bettering results. Sorry.
Forget any farts for now. While watching Thief I got a certain suspicion that this was a 21st Century take on the classic trading places film Trading Places. For the uninformed Dan Ackroyd was a wealthy banker paired up with unusual circumstances with street hustler Eddie Murphy. Like the title suggests both guys switch roles on a bet. You know. Let’s solve that nature versus nurture conundrum once and for all. Bateman’s Sandy was doing well financially until a twist of fate McCarthy’s Sandy swindles his salaried fate away. Their places were kinda traded. To wit K exclaimed, “Look at all those (drivers’) licenses! Was she stealing cars?” No subtly there.
Maybe? Yep? As far as the scrambled plot was concerned who knows? It fed into the bewilderment. And it was a good question, since the whole damn film went off the tracks when the opening credits ended. Thief was piloted by balky deception. Meaning it took many nods to Trading Places’ device, but minus being cozy, relatable. The Places stakes were made in the first act smooth and creamy. Thief was brittle, trying too hard and more involved sending us lukewarm comedy-drama with a lot of bombast and collateral damage. In sum Thief ripped off of Trading Places.
But wait! There’s more!
The following isn’t so much a rip-off, but more like inspired…well, theft. Back in the late 80s we had this flick called Midnight Run featuring Robert DeNiro as a bounty hunter and an annoying corporate embezzler Charles Grodin as the bounty. They travel cross-country (handcuffed to each other) from NY to LA in hopes Grodin stays alive as well as DeNiro earning his bounty. Grodin was the golden goose to DeNiro feathering his nest. Get it? Whacked out road trip there. Again, get it? Thief‘s story was hardly original. To be honest it was already threadbare.
Beyond Thief‘s frayed plot the cast was great albeit disjointed. We needed a Golden Bachelor here; some tentpole guy to hold it all together, but still had some rough needed incredulity. Not unlike a Mitch Hedberg one-liner (“I wear a necklace, cause I wanna know when I’m upside down.)” Thief had a very stilted sense of down overall, but the supporting cast did well in a retarded Monty Python style. Meaning the casting call was headed by Terry Gilliam, that mad genius.
Bateman and McCarthy was a Diet Coke version of Laurel and Hardy. They were the straight line—the pinion—to drive the plot, however an acquired taste. It were the exits down the side roads that made the humor—lumpy as it was—work no matter how skewed. It played out like moves on a chess board, but the players were blindfolded. Sandy’s financial history going up smoke was supposed to be funny, but exploiting uncertainty for chuckles? I found Theif‘s plot a bit too wink-wink nudge-nudge for its own good. Namely again no subtly and too much clunky in yo’ face. In short—as most comedians claim—timing is everything. Thief had a bad case of the hiccups. A slight taste of corn, but in honesty director Gordon tried to steer the ship clear, despite the obvious shortcuts that could employ fart jokes. Rather sperm jokes. Not a bad trade, I guess.
McCarthy was a slick one. It was her movie. Her performance was the gateway to better films. Here she had improved her manic schtick a great deal since The Back-Up Plan and Charlie’s Angels: Full Throttle. Those pan flashes were a dry run for McCarthy here as Bateman’s girl Wednesday. I repeat the supporting cast was far more adept at making laughs, McCarthy demanded some goofy respect. Despite the fact she wasn’t goofy enough. Or perhaps too goofy. Her Sandy was off-kilter. A blessing and a curse. It was confusing.
Bateman’s nebbish, chump manque needed to be slapped in the face with a raw flounder. As far back as my wobbly memory goes from Bateman’s child actor days, with both It’s Your Move and Silver Spoons his stock in trade was a slick, smart-ass charlatan. If being a wiseass required a college degree, then Bateman earned a doctorate. From his smarmy role as Dave on The Hogan Family all the way lending his voice as Nick in Zootopia the guy was an ace as being worldly and slick. Hell, even in Ozark his character tried to keep his composure with inappropriate comments. Straight-faced, but lingering. The man has range. Where’d that go here?
And so what happened? Muted lines and stone-faced. Even the master of manic Jack Nicholson earned an Oscar nom by going against character in About Schmidt. Bateman did not go against character with Thief. He just gave up and went through some motions. K commented on the movie just getting on with the mission. It was more like a dysfunctional road trip sans any lampoon. Bateman as chump made that drag on. The man is an actor of many facets truth be told. Being a klutz is not one of them, even if played for laughs. After viewing Thief, I suggest Bateman finds a new agent. The only patent Bateman scene was imposter as his dunderhead boss. That and playing with food. How far have we fallen. A clap on the back for Bateman, kiddo.
Here’s the Kirk to Bateman’s Spock. McCarthy is a natural comic actor. Blowzy, winking and self-effacing. Such is her hog wallow, and her wit was very active here. But she felt like she called it in. Going through the motions. Granted the scenes when she went through some motions (the busted scene, the sex scene, the car chases, the sex scene?) was McCarthy at the top of her game, all blustery, defiant and wanting this flick to wrap it up. In truth her performance felt as if she was holding back. There was nearly zero chemistry between her and Bateman and as her act goes she should’ve shouldered the burden of a weak script. She did, in fits and starts. Overall McCarthy’s comedic gifts felt hollow and came accords her working her way towards a better role in some other film (EG: The female Ghostbusters. Shut up. I dug it). McCarthy wasted some time here. Too bad.
So yeah, Thief was funny in hiccups and farts. Not laugh out loud funny, but I gotta give credit where it’s due. It’s odd when the supporting cast pulls the rug up under the leads. It’s called stealing the show. Our kids in the hall were the best, honest delivery of demented humor that should of saturated the alpha plot. Despite the predictable level was off the scale, every. Single. Supporting actor was funny. I mentioned The Kids In The Hall as a throwaway, but if you broke it down Thief was more a collection of vignettes than a movie proper. You could remember scenes better than the overall film, kinda like some drippy 21st Century road movie a la Bob and Bing. Where those two venerable, lovable clods were in the thick of things—and all to aware—Bateman and McCarthy were more reactive to the chaos that came crashing down around them.
I don’t remember much of the plot, but I do remember the icky REDACTED scene between with McCarthy and Stonestreet. I do remember the single-mindedness of Patrick as a winking nod to his role in Terminator 2. I remember Bateman being casually called cheesed*ck by Favreau. Do I remember any of these scenes adding up to a cohesive story? Nope. But the supporting cast was so wild and witty I recommend Thief strictly on their efforts. If one claims Thief runs out of steam by the third act is because we were watching some crime heist version of “Ten Little Indians” (go read the story) not The Kids In The Hall. Or even The State.
Thief was a mess. Unfocused, predictable, several rip-offs and a huge waste of time for our prime comedic leads. Thief could be best described as a movie where the best scenes comprised the trailer.
At least it had a nice, happy ending.
Gotta get now. I misplaced my iPhone. On the bus. In Aurora, CO. I don’t live in Colorado. Just got a suspect email alert. I’ve never been to Ethiopia either.
Oh sh*t.
The Musings…
- Again, cheesed*ck?
- “You make friends wherever you go, huh?”
- K says I look like Stonestreet. Thank you, but I shave.
- “I’m real sorry about your d*ck.”
- Best. Elephant. Impression. Ever.
- “…You’re so colorful.”
- Patrick was scarier than his T-1000 role. Now consider a redneck cyborg. Shiver.
- “You’ve got to work on your tone.”
- K suggested of our frustrated supporting cast some anger management was in order.
- “I’m not comfortable with this!”
The Verdict…
Rent it or relent it? Relent it. What a crappy way to start a new year. I really wanted Thief to be funny. I really did. Oh well.
Again thanks for coming back, and please try the veal. At least I think it’s veal.
The Next Time…
Chris Pratt and Jennifer Lawrence are the sole Passengers awake on their interstellar journey to a new world.