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Released somewhat quietly and without much anticipation, at least in Italy, "Tropic Thunder" is emerging as one of the most interesting comedic films of the decade; certainly the best of the year and probably Ben Stiller's masterpiece, with writing assistance from the Lynchian Justin Theroux and none other than Ethan Cohen.
The film tells the epic tale of five actors, from various backgrounds and careers, engaged on the set of "Tropic Thunder," a war movie that describes the adventures of a group of American soldiers tasked with entering the Vietnamese jungle in search of a certain Quadrifoglio Tayback, a soldier kidnapped by the Viet Cong and reported missing. To make everything more realistic, overcoming the conflicts of too many stars, the director, advised by the "real" Tayback present on the set as a consultant, sends the five into the real jungle, where, believing they are acting for much of the movie, they encounter an actual band of heroin-producing guerrillas, with obviously devastating effects on action and comedy.
Not a war movie, then, in the strict sense, nor a film that parodies war movies (like "Hot Spot," for instance), but rather a film that parodies those who make war movies, thus lampooning the Hollywood world that represents war in a cartoonish, artificial, or even titanic manner, divided between business and artistic expression, in a very interesting and effective game of reflections, both cynical and disarming.
In this metalinguistic game, no one is spared; neither the rhetoric (ultimately pro-American) of Stone's "Platoon," nor the Europeanizing and decadent sensibility of Coppola’s "Apocalypse Now," nor the moral decay in Cimino's "The Deer Hunter," or even less the cheap sentimentality of Spielberg’s "Saving Private Ryan." It is precisely the cinematic techniques, the style, if not the touch of these Authors that are ridiculed in this film, exaggerating the language of various films: from emphatic slow-motion, to the painterly flames of napalm or bombers, passing through the close-ups of protagonists lost in the woods or searching for their own heart of darkness in the Vietnamese or Cambodian forest. Almost as if by exaggerating the form of each work, one uncovers a certain self-reference - capable of causing laughter when we realize that something serious may not be genuine, and sincere, through and through!!! - of all American cinema (but not only).
Everything is represented by a whirlwind of characters, the film's actors and crew (including the special effects manager who debuted in "Driving Miss Daisy"), which in turn constitute a series of emphasized traits, making it easy to spot the archetype of true Hollywood stars and their entourage: from the decadent action film protagonist (Stiller) unable to reinvent himself with either comedy or serious cinema, to the method actor (Downey Jr.) who immerses himself in being a black man, adopting his mannerisms and language even off the set (the continuous interjection "man" being deadly), passing through a drug-addicted comic star (Black) ill-suited for shooting in extreme conditions - and especially in withdrawal. Moving around them are many minor characters from the showbiz world, among whom the assistant/agent of one of the actors (McConaughey, replacing the aspiring suicidal Owen Wilson) stands out, torn between friendship and affection for his client and the cynical pursuit of money and fame, as well as the spectacular producer Lee Grossman, played by an excellent and disguised Tom Cruise.
A couple of notes on these characters, who, seemingly secondary, help clarify another characteristic of the film, which is the melancholic undertone of the comedy, not to be seen ironically this time but almost as one of the two faces of acting (like the classic masks, after all): the agent, while swimming in the futility of the showbiz world, hides the drama of his son's handicap, probably autistic, and in a moment of sincerity almost lost in the film's plethora of jokes, he says "he didn't choose" but loves, as noted at the film's end, during a hoped-for yet unexpected plane journey; the producer is both extremely cynical and vulgar (he would send a fading actor to die just to profit from his memory and a potential settlement), but also intimately alone, and the engaging dance that concludes the film, celebrating profit and the dollar, does not mask the character's underlying melancholy (who sends the assistant to boast around Hollywood about "Tropic Thunder"'s excellent success, not even seeking the pleasures of the flesh, alcohol, or vice anymore, limiting himself to diet Coke).
A truly successful film then, in which laughter and drama intersect with a certain lightness and full technical mastery, as well as excellent acting performances. If someone now turns up their nose, in about ten years it will surely become a cult film.
Don't miss, above all, the initial trailers.
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