Will Audiences Go Ape Over Monkeybone?

By Teddy Durgin
Once or twice a year, a film comes along that looks terrible in the trailers, terrible in the commercials, and terrible in the print ads, and turns out to be a completely unexpected delight. It sets its own course for creativity, originality, and innovative plotting. It gives us moments that delight the eyes and fill the soul.

"Monkeybone" is not one of those films.

I had hopes for this one, dear readers. I really and truly did. I thought it could come close to being another Beetlejuice or Brazil. Unfortunately, it comes closer to such creative fiascos as Hudson Hawk and Batman and Robin, movies that employed a myriad of accomplished artists that for one reason or another went horribly out of control.

Monkeybone, opening February 23 in theaters, is not an outright bad movie. It's a loud, obnoxious, pointless movie. While it does have its share of inspired moments and unique characters, it's one of those examples of a bunch of interesting parts never adding up to a cohesive whole. Was it the victim of studio tinkering? Ill-advised test screenings? Or was it just a fundamentally flawed project from the start?

Who knows?

Brendan Fraser stars as Stu Miley, an insecure comic artist whose Monkeybone creation is about to become the next South Park. A cable-TV deal has been struck, and his agent (Dave Foley) is putting together additional deals with fast-food restaurant chains and retailers for stuffed animals, action figures, backpacks, and T-shirts. Stu should be happy. He's going to be rolling in the cash. Instead, he's just tired of it all and wants only to spend quiet evenings with his girlfriend, Julie (Bridget Fonda).

A freak accident puts Stu in a coma, and his soul goes to a place called "Downtown," which is kind of like a purgatory for creative types. Stephen King is there. So is the manipulative Monkeybone, a figment of Stu's imagination who schemes his way into Stu's body back on Earth. The evil chimp is in cahoots with Hypnos, the God of Sleep (Giancarlo Esposito), to replenish Downtown with more creative nightmares. Conveniently, Julie is a psychiatrist who has just invented a drug to stimulate bad dreams. It's up to Stu to find a way back to the real world and stop Monkeybone before he gives everyone nightmares.

Hey, guess who will be having nightmares about Monkeybone later tonight? You guessed it. Yours Truly! Why? Because Monkeybone is SO annoying! He has not one truly funny moment in the entire picture. He's just a jabbering, little Curious George on crack. Not only that, but we don't get nearly enough screen time with him to understand why he is destined to become such a pop-culture phenomenon. He breaks wind. So what? He jumps around and utters sarcastic comments. Yeah, so does my upstairs neighbor. We really only get about 20 minutes with the Monkeybone character (voiced by John Turturro) before he is buried inside Fraser's body. Fraser takes over from there, mimicking the poorly animated chimp for the rest of the picture. Fraser tries his best. He does every embarrassing and demeaning thing the filmmakers ask him to do from swinging on bedposts to singing "Brick House." But, in the end, only someone with the talent, manic energy, and gift for improvisation of a Jim Carrey or Robin Williams could salvage this material.

The script appears to have gone through several drafts of dumbing down. Characters are left in that probably had larger roles in earlier versions of the screenplay. For instance, Stu has a sister (the shrill Megan Mullally) who is determined to pull the plug on him while he is in a coma. When Stu comes out of it, she
completely disappears for the rest of the picture. Rose McGowan shows up as Kitty, a half-feline/half-human cocktail waitress in Downtown who helps Stu in his efforts to cheat Death. McGowan and her spectacular cleavage are fun to watch, but she and they also slide in and out of the picture.

Still, Monkeybone is not a total loss. The director here is Henry Selick, a longtime Tim Burton collaborator who was among the main creative forces behind A Nightmare Before Christmas and James and the Giant Peach. Selick has a marvelous visual eye, and gives us several dream sequences that could practically
stand alone as short films. Especially memorable is the nightmare Stu's dog has, in which the poor pooch is about to be fixed by a team of cats. It's as surreal and darkly comic as the monkey flashback in Being John Malkovich. You'll wish the film had more of these scenes.

I also really enjoyed Esposito hamming it up as the God of Sleep and Chris Kattan of Saturday Night Live as a dead gymnast briefly reanimated. In an inspired bit of physical comedy, the athlete has had his neck broken, and Kattan goes through his scenes letting his head dangle from side to side as if he is completely missing a spine. It's a wonder to behold ... on home video, that is.

On the negative side, I could go the rest of my life without seeing entertainment Webmater Harry Knowles on the big screen ever again. Note to Hollywood: guys who review movies via the Internet should never actually be cast in movies (On a sidenote, my agent can be reached via Daytips.com, except on Sundays).

I don't know. Maybe this is just a case of Selick letting the project get away from him. The original concept for this film could have been either an inspired dark comedy or even an interesting psychological thriller about one man's ego and superego triumphing over his id. Instead, the movie has been dumbed way down for the kiddie crowd with fart jokes, manic chases, and rapid-fire editing.

I knew I was in trouble early. At the preview screening I attended this week, the studio gave out whoopie cushions beforehand as free gifts. Brilliant idea. Way to appeal to that target demographic, Fox! And I'd like to thank those audience members who made use of these little prizes before, during, and after the movie.

At least, I hope those were whoopie cushions I was hearing.