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A good comedy must be funny; this shouldn\u2019t be a\u00a0debatable statement, and yet it would seem that as of late, too many studio efforts in the genre are making an effortful case for the contrary. Consider the earners of recent vintage: even in determinedly labeled comedies, humor is the pleasant diversion that greases the proceedings while we behold the CGI-laden stunts of Dwayne Johnson and Kevin Hart, gape at the immaculate visages of Glen Powell and Sydney Sweeney, or ponder the confining roles of womanhood with our pal Barbie. The platonic ideal of a\u00a0comedy as a\u00a0machine that extracts laughter\u2009\u2014\u2009and that the best comedy would necessarily be the one that operates at maximum capacity along these lines on a\u00a0minute-to-minute basis\u2009\u2014\u2009is not pursued nearly as doggedly as it should be.\u00a0<\/span><\/p>\n Luckily, for Earth and its people and everyone who will live in the future, Detective Frank Drebin Jr. stops for nothing when he\u2019s in hot pursuit. Not pedestrians. Not unfortunately placed beehives or clutches of helium balloons. Nothing.<\/span><\/p>\n In keeping with the tradition of the Zucker-Abrahams-Zucker brain trust\u2019s original cop-on-the-edge spoofs, the rebooted <\/span>Naked Gun<\/span><\/i> condenses a\u00a0staggering volume of jokes into a\u00a0svelte sub-hour-and-a-half length, to the point that the question of whether any one gag works on you becomes immaterial. In about five seconds, there will be more daffy wordplay, more pratfalls, more left-field pop-culture references proudly long past their expiry date. The by-any-means-necessary bit barrage crams sight gags into the corners of frames, the credits, the infinitesimal space within edits. In a\u00a0film that nobly aspires to everything being funny at all times, anything can be, the chief benefit of director Akiva Schaffer\u2019s attention to and appreciation for the elements of cinematic form. You\u2019ve got to be smart to be this stupid.<\/span><\/p>\n The virtuosic schtick construction meets a\u00a0worthy match in the leads, two exemplary instances of unexpected yet inspired casting that play on the actors\u2019 preexisting screen personae just as the original tapped hard-nosed Leslie Nielsen for deadpan self-parody. As Drebin the Younger, Liam Neeson is god\u2019s perfect boob, fully locked into the sweet spot between unearned confidence and bone-deep idiocy where comedy flourishes. (As is essential for any performer trafficking in levity, he jumps at the chance to make himself look like a\u00a0fool, not least in the profoundly satisfying line of dialogue that lays out the gerontocratic subtext of the rampaging-oldster pictures on which he built his career\u2019s second act.) And as his femme fatale\/right-hand gal Beth \u2013 known also by her undercover moniker, Ms. Spaghetti \u2013 a\u00a0resurgent Pamela Anderson reveals unforeseen reserves of brilliant comic acumen, the depth of her commitment undeniable in an exquisitely silly musical interlude or a\u00a0minute-long tangent involving dark magic, a\u00a0snowman, and a\u00a0samurai sword that gives this film its successor to <\/span>Popstar<\/span><\/i>\u200b\u2019<\/span>s immortal \u200b\u201c<\/span>offscreen bees\u201d flight of absurd fancy.<\/span><\/p>\n When the opening minutes introduce a\u00a0doohickey labeled \u200b\u201c<\/span>P.L.O.T. Device,\u201d it\u2019s an announcement that the actual case at hand is little more than occasion for bountiful setups and punch lines, though the timely edge is hard to miss in a\u00a0tech-visionary villain (Danny Huston) pushing shoddy electric vehicles. But like many of the Elon Musk stand-ins peopling Hollywood productions in the years since <\/span>Iron Man<\/span><\/i>, any overtures to satirical critique fall flat due to the difficulty of replicating Musk\u2019s weird combination of awkwardness, spitefulness, and neediness. Ultimately, Huston\u2019s nefarious Richard Cane is just another megalomaniacal billionaire; in spite of this, it\u2019s still pretty refreshing to see him punched in the\u00a0gut.<\/span><\/p>\n Perhaps this one aspect sticks out because the rest of the film is so markedly\u00a0<\/span>not\u00a0<\/i>yoked to its moment, at once unfashionable and eternal in its evocation of a\u00a0century of madcap Jewish yuks, from the Borscht Belt to MAD<\/span> Magazine to Mel Brooks. The imperative is simple, unchanging, and absolute: make \u200b\u2018<\/span>em laugh, make \u200b\u2018<\/span>em laugh, make \u200b\u2018<\/span>em laugh. <\/span>The Naked Gun<\/span><\/i> is a\u00a0volume business, and it succeeds by seriously heeding the sentiment presented sarcastically when applied to Drebin and his greying-badass ilk. Sometimes, the old ways really are best; a\u00a0good pun is forever.<\/span><\/p>\n<\/div>\n\nGet more Little White\u00a0Lies<\/h3>\n<\/p><\/div>\n