“A Night at the Roxbury” (1998)

A Night at the Roxbury

Grade: D-

A spin-off of a semi-popular Saturday Night Live sketch, and not a particularly funny one at that, Will Ferrell and Chris Kattan’s A Night at the Roxbury stretches a one-joke concept to feature-length runtime and offers zero laughs in return. The un-funniness is honestly impressive, making Roxbury into an auto-qualifier for “Worst Comedy Ever.”

Directing:

John Fortenberry is very underrated: as the director of Jury Duty (1995), A Night at the Roxbury (1998) and Fred 2: Night of the Living Fred (2011), his name rarely comes up when discussing “Lousiest Filmographies of All Time.” But he’s right up there with the worst of them. In his defense, however, none of those films are really his fault. And A Night at the Roxbury isn’t even the baddest of the bunch.

In terms of visual style, the clubs of Los Angeles look realistic enough. It’s clear that this is a movie rather than a skit. Unfortunately, the jokes are just soooo fucking bad that there’s nothing Fortenberry could do to make the Roxbury guys any less insufferable.

Acting:

SNL cast members Will Ferrell and Chris Kattan play the obnoxious pair of brothers as a real-life Beavis and Butthead: dumber than a box of rocks, and that’s an insult to rocks (and boxes). The jokes are so lame and the plot so uninspired that the so-called “comedians” come off as annoying jerks rather than sympathetic dimwits. In Ferrell’s first starring role on the big screen, there’s not a single funny bone in his body.

Writing:

It’s as if Ferrell and co-writers Kattan and Steve Koren have put absolutely no effort into writing jokes or a story for this film. Even worse, the film doesn’t even seem embarrassed by it. A Night at the Roxbury happily settles for the dumbest common denominator and proudly has the balls to half-ass the whole thing. The basic plot: shit happens, sometimes it doesn’t, fuck you.

Other neanderthal comedies like Jim Carrey’s Dumb and Dumber (1994) or Keanu Reeves’ Bill & Ted’s Excellent Adventure (1989) at least have the decency and the dignity to laugh at their main characters’ stupidity. Against all odds, they become somewhat likable, maybe even a little lovable. The Roxbury guys, on the other hand, are unbelievably stupid, violently stupid, contemptible in everything that they do. The entire movie relies on us blindly believing that they are funny, without providing any proof whatsoever. Every failed punchline is a direct insult to the viewer’s intelligence, delivered by none other than the dipshit filmmakers themselves.

Music:

I’ll give Roxbury credit for one thing and one thing only: the soundtrack is filled with dance-club bangers. Other than the Haddaway mega-hit, there are also worthy remixes from Rod Stewart, Cyndi Lauper and Ace of Base, among others. It’s about the only thing the movie gets right (and yet the movie still nearly fucks it all up by opting for a “Careless Whisper” cover rather than the George Michael original).

Ending (SPOILERS):

Is it even worth going over the ending, which is as vapid and unfunny and unrealistic as the rest of this fucking godawful film? The Roxbury bros live happily ever after, ditch the slutty neighbor girl whom they hate for no reason, become club owners and presumably have as much sex as their little dicks desire. They climax with one final dance. Just be glad that it’s over and there isn’t a sequel.

“Are you seeing planes? Is your name ‘Tattoo?’ Because I swear to God you’re living on Fantasy Island!” — Doug Butabi

Why A Night at the Roxbury gets a D-

One of the un-funniest movies of the ’90s. Makes other SNL schlock like Akroyd’s Coneheads (1993) and even Shannon’s Superstar (1998) seem okay in comparison. Makes Myers’ Wayne’s World (1991) seem like Welles’ Citizen Kane (1941).

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