That the common movie masses aren’t buying into the exercising of trite and redundant comedy made out of pure devilish greed will surely be the downfall of Mike Myers latest bombastic, comedy underflow. It’s powerfully underwhelming and features far more misses than hits this third time around, and hopefully the last time around. I’m not a particularly big fan of the Austin Powers franchise but I was fairly eager to see this sequel nonetheless, however, the film is less than hyped about performing. It’s a lackluster collection of comedy blandness and dead halts, occasionally grasping the concept of a parody and satire, notions that the first two had down by the nose. And that the looming presence of studio manipulation is overbearing, despite the original’s auspicious ‘60s hippie and free-spirited overtones, makes this Austin one powerfully un-hip, one note joke.
Jay Roach’s Austin Powers in Goldmember is near the height of tedium, a voluptuous comedy beast that takes pride in tearing out the souls of viewers to make a buck, peddling its skewed, teen-comedy vision back to dumbfounded fools after a quick recycle of the previous films. The ne’er-do-well’s collaborate once again, director Roach and star Mike Myers, for this extended one-joke and no punch line parody, trying their hands, once again, at the spy spoof and “fish out of water” franchise. Behind its satirical guise, beats the heart of a studio executive just waiting for the film to reap the land of profits as it unleashes a widespread marketing wave of Pepsi, Heineken, and believe it or not, Preparation H. More or less Roach sells his film’s soul, disconnecting itself from witty comedy by producing a mere extended TV commercial, that’s accompanied by the typically horrific soundtrack of Britney Spears and the film’s own, Beyoncé Knowles. In other words, this conglomerate of marketing tools and ploys has lost all heart and innocence that the other’s minutely possessed.
Bypassing the largely protruding and obnoxious product placement, the film can come across as quite humorous but horrendously similar to the first installments. Reality-bending parody and spoofing takes center stage while satirical wit is withheld, simply featured in a scattershot of funny but hardly original scenarios. The Myers and Michael McCullers penned screenplay takes a few more licks at the, admittedly hilarious, silhouette antics that drove one of the best scenes of The Spy Who Shagged Me as well as another brief take on the brilliant quick-cut sexual innuendo sequence and it features the much beloved Osbourne family, but then again, we’ve seen this before. The superfluous comedy is such a rehash it’s packaged with an expected limited amount of appeal that’s not helped by a vague and sparse father-son theme.
The slaughter of Hollywood comedy and the decline of Mike Myer’s family of fun characters begins once again with a surprisingly timid and awkward dance sequence, but not before a hilarious Austin Powers parody preludes, featuring an assortment of cameos such as the likes of Tom Cruise, Gwyneth Paltrow, Kevin Spacey, Danny DeVito and Steven Spielberg. It appears Spielberg is directing a bio-pic of Austin’s life, a pointless aspect to the plot other than to call on celebrity cameos, meanwhile everyone’s favorite International Man of Mystery is up to his usual dancing and lightheartedly sexist ways. Running parallel to Austin’s recent arrival in Hollywood are the deviant schemes being conjured by the maniacal and real star of the film, Dr. Evil (the often underrated Myers), and all from behind the Hollywood hills famous landmark sign.
But Dr. Evil is busted immediately after his announcement of calling on a diabolical ‘70s disco club owner who is also evil, “aptly named” Goldmember (Myers), for he lost his “you know what” in a smelting accident and replaced it with a gold “you know what.” Austin soon realizes that his negligent father Nigel Powers (an embarrassed Michael Caine) has been kidnapped and in Thomas Harris style, Powers turns to the captured Dr. Evil for help. And so, Austin does it once again; he’s given a time-traveling car, aptly decorated like a pimp-mobile, destined for 1975 where he hopes to rescue his father from the sniveling, Dutch roller-skater. But almost immediately upon arriving in 1975, Austin eyes a former love interest, Foxxy Cleopatra (Beyoncé Knowles), and sparks another tepid, James-Bondish romance.
The crux of Goldmember’s conundrum, as a piece of artwork, is the rhetoric and pointless questioning of a purpose, besides the obvious, which is money. Daunted by the system of which it was conceived, this Austin Powers entry offers the bare minimum in the story and plot department, and hardly anything phenomenal in the comedy arena. There are some genuine laughs evoked, called forth by some delightfully witty spoofing of spy films and Mini-Me’s unending pummeling is often hilarious, but for the most part the laughs come as pity. At its worst moments, dead-end jokes create divine voids where inevitable gags become trapped, and when musical sequences flop they do so with an oblivious incompetence, reveling in a most cardboard and cartoonish backdrop.
Perhaps the most unforgivable thing within Goldmember is the dramatic element, which was present very little in prior installments but is in way overabundance here. Incredulous as it may seem, this tawdry little comedy attempts to exhibit the father-son conflict, but does so with a Jerry Springer tone that sets the entire theme spinning into an irksome and thin affair. That the strictly comedic-producing, recently prolific Roach attempts an introduction of drama, emotion and themes into a strict spoofing is the acute sign of temporary insanity. No one takes Austin Powers seriously and no one wants to, but when performing a cheap attempt to flesh him as something resembling a human being, at least do it a little right. Merely mentioning the idea of Austin Powers’ father, being still fairly youthful and resilient, despite the fact that he would probably be near ninety years old (unless he was taken from the ‘60s by way of time machine but that’s never said) is utterly ludicrous. Further ridiculous yet still more acceptable is the unexplained absence of Heather Graham, sans a much-more likable Felicity Shagwell, replaced with the usually awful antics of a singer-turned-wannabe-actress, Knowles.
If you thought MIB II was a time capsule of soon-to-be-dated material, this Austin has a reference for every little “flavor of the month” within its limited frame, from Britney Spears to Subway’s Jared phenomenon, save the Los Angeles Lakers. It brings this defilement of the mainstream kicking and screaming for attention, while it wanes with embarrassment and pans poorly for laughs. However, I did laugh quite a bit during Goldmember’s painful course, which may bring a little encouragement for those seeking a mindless and raucously odd time. My love of absurd and bizarre situations played in very little here; nevertheless, the movie contains a few scenes done rather well. But for those seeking real comedy, flee elsewhere, for this revivalist is a poor excuse of a sequel that I doubt will gain much success, even posthumously, as I predict of the film a slow and painful death.