THE STORY – Two friends navigate the dangerous world of organized crime, testing their loyalty and survival skills as they get deeper into the criminal underworld.
THE CAST – Vince Vaughn, James Marsden, Eiza González, Keith David, Jimmy Tatro, Emily Hampshire, Arturo Castro, Lewis Tan, Ben Schwartz & Stephen Root
THE TEAM – BenDavid Grabinski (Director/Writer)
THE RUNNING TIME – 107 Minutes
As BenDavid Grabinski’s “Mike & Nick & Nick & Alice” opens to Ben Schwartz’s Symon, a scientist belting out Billy Joel’s “Why Should I Worry?” (the anthem of the beloved Disney animated film “Oliver & Company”), it’s evident how loose Grabinski is going not only with establishing the tone of his latest feature but also in introducing audiences to his specific flavor of comedy, one that feels all but lost in a world of studio filmmaking today. Grabinski’s joke-a-minute approach is instantly injected with the melding of genres that “Mike & Nick & Nick & Alice” embraces throughout its gut-busting runtime, reminding audiences why comedies of this vein are becoming a dying breed and that Vince Vaughn, when he wants to be, remains one of the more reliable comedic presences working today.
Grabinski then switches gears to the film’s inevitable heavy, Keith David’s crime lord Sosa, who has dedicated the entirety of his organization’s night to celebrating his son Jimmy Boy, played by Jimmy Tatro, after returning home from a six-year prison sentence. It’s at the first of these many parties that Mike (also known as Quick Draw Mike), played by James Marsden, and Nick, played by Vaughn, are introduced. The two, who share a kinship as partners in crime, are also romantic partners to the same woman: Nick’s wife, Alice, played by Eiza González. It’s a dynamic that throws the trio for a loop when Mike and Alice’s secretive rendezvous is sabotaged by Nick’s need for help with a job that delays Mike’s imminent retirement. Mike reluctantly goes along to keep his affair with Alice hidden, but what he doesn’t realize is that the Nick he’s with is not the Nick he knows, but Nick from the future, attempting to keep Mike alive.
It sounds like a lot, but Grabinski’s straightforward storytelling prevents audiences from getting lost in the minutiae of the time-traveling premise, teeing up comedy that plays like an inverse buddy comedy of Elaine May’s “Mikey and Nicky.” It helps that Grabinski elicits an electric chemistry among this trio (or technically quartet) of performers, as Vaughn pulls double duty playing two iterations of Nick. Vaughn, Marsden, and González play to each other’s strengths, riding the energy of one another’s performances to keep the film moving even when it occasionally wavers. Vaughn’s work here feels somewhat nostalgic, as the film itself is reminiscent of a 2000s studio comedy he likely would have been attached to years ago. He’s also given the toughest task, doubling up on the straight-man routine opposite Marsden’s spiraling hitman, who is increasingly fretful about his potential demise, yet Vaughn handles it with ease.
It’s Vaughn’s grounding of Nick in the pain of his past actions that channels what he can bring comedically, allowing Marsden and González to let loose. Marsden has long proven himself a great comedic performer as well, in the vein of Jon Hamm, whose physically expressive talents circumvent his devilishly good looks and allow him to use them to his advantage. If anything, González is the one who receives more time to display her comedic chops, serving as the mediator between Marsden and Vaughn while keeping occasionally exposition-heavy exchanges lively.
The screenplay, which humorously structures each act around the after-parties Sosa throws, is comical in its own right, especially when it gives Tatro the chance to lean into his performance as the imbecilic gangster son worrying about erectile dysfunction and arguing with absurdly named goons like Dumbass Tony or Roid-Raid Roger, played by Arturo Castro and Lewis Tan, respectively. The actors involved in Sosa’s crew chew up some of the most meathead-fueled dialogue audiences are likely to hear in some time. The dialogue may be where Grabinski’s writing proves strongest, thanks to his ability to build punchlines by letting characters bounce off one another following the setup until the joke finally lands. He’s even able to make characters arguing about “Gilmore Girls” feel on par with the elaborate action set piece in the film’s final act.
“Mike & Nick & Nick & Alice” is a film that wears its influences on its sleeve, as Grabinski channels the essence of Hong Kong cinema, whether through Woo-esque double-wielding gunfights or the use of shutter-speed slowing. The film’s overreliance on these techniques at times may frustrate some viewers, as it can limit Grabinski’s ability to fully establish his own visual language. It’s a small price to pay, though Larry Fong’s cinematography gives “Mike & Nick & Nick & Alice” a level of visual variety not typical at this level, especially when switching to black-and-white film for flashbacks. “Mike & Nick & Nick & Alice” ultimately stands as a remnant of a dying breed of studio comedy, one that isn’t afforded the luxury of opening in a barren release window this time of year, where an audience might more easily be found. The crowd at SXSW embraced it enthusiastically, echoing the same kind of communal response that accompanied screenings of “Hit-Man,” making it a shame that many viewers may not get the chance to experience it that way.
