Role Models

by Matthew Rodgers

On paper, Role Models seems like the kind of fare reserved for Sean William-Scott typecast completists (are there any?), or post-pub inebriated rental choice fodder solely because it will say “McLovin” on the cover. Look past that, and factor in the inclusion of Elizabeth Banks (W) and Paul Rudd (Forgetting Sarah Marshall) and Role Models is an often hilarious take on the well-worn Kindergarten Cop/Daddy Day Care formula.

Danny (Rudd) and Wheeler (Scott) are two energy drink salesman with different outlooks on their job satisfaction, Danny is stuck in a rut whereas Wheeler thrives on the stimulation that unambitious rut provides. When a promotional gig spirals out of control and the company truck is trashed our two mismatched buddies must choose between doing hard time or 150 hours community service. It turns out that after being assigned guardianship of introverted geek Augie (Mintz-Plasse – Superbad) and foul mouthed terror Ronnie (debutant Bobb’e J. Thompson), jail time might not have been such a bad thing.

Role Models may well have turned into the kind of movie the opening paragraph suggests had it not been for some fantastic comedic work from all involved. Paul Rudd has mastered dead-pan improvisation to a tee and his everyman is the partially grounded character the audience can root for to enable this to function as a film and not just random sketches, and his final car straddling medley is genuinely hilarious. William-Scott is still just being Stiffler but this time there are glimpses of heart beneath the “effin and blinding” and despite some initial annoyance at Thompson’s two-dimensional brat the kids are all right, Mintz-Plasse in particular is as far from McLovin as you could have hoped.

Its Jane Lynch’s straight talking program director that’s the real role model here; not a big name, you will recognise her from stealing the show in everything from Arrested Development to Knocked Up and she is absolutely brilliant as the ex-con, ex-addict counsellor that should take more care in choosing her words.

Pacing is an issue and we all know timing is important in comedy, so the overlong but unquestionably funny battle recreation finale doesn’t quite have the impact it should have done, getting there with fifteen minutes less flab may have helped. But that’s just being picky because this frequently vulgar, but equally touching little comedy is a corker.