This may sound like I am one hundred and fifty-five years old, but I distinctly remember hearing my grandparents, great aunts and great uncles arguing whether or not it was “right” to watch Mel Brooks’ The Producers. Nazism was no laughing matter to them, yet the case for the film was to kill 'em by clowning.
Should the successful British film Four Lions gain momentum here in the United States, it is conceivable that old people will be banging their heads against the wall again.
Four Lions is a satire about Islamic Jihad that may or may not be “right,” but is definitely funny. Directed by BBC television and radio personality Chris Morris, Four Lions tucks its bold, sweeping statements in between absurdist, near vaudevillian situational scenes.
In Four Lions, five complete morons keystone kop their way toward terrorism and their 72 virgins. The first half of the film is primarily verbal schtick as only Brits can do (see “Derek and Clive” or Eric Idle’s Monty Python contributions), the second half goes into the realm of world-gone-mad black comedy.
Not all of the humor is a home run, but much of it works, particularly when focused on Adeel Akhtar’s character (the absolute dumbest of the group) or Nigel Lindsay’s (the one with the most Cleese-ian rage, and the only Anglo convert.)
The most striking scenes are with Riz Ahmed’s character Omar being a tender father and husband, supported by his family in his attempt to achieve martyrdom. These are shocking moments that will stun to silence all corners of self-righteous arguement.
Personally, I was more enamored of the complete buffoonery of the first half of the film, and, in a strange almost reverse-logic way, think the movie somewhat “sells out” by attempting to grapple with nuanced political, social and religious arguments. There’s a purity to straight farce that I think achieves its own goal. But that may not be your point of view. The ending as it stands now no doubt packs a stronger punch, leaving the audience torn in multiple directions.
