REVIEW: Tusk

There's something to be said in favor of films that seem to revel in their own stupidity. Movies that completely and utterly understand what they're about and make no pretense about being anything more. Tusk, released in 2014, was inspired entirely by a gag hypothetical on director Kevin Smith's podcast, Smodcast. Smith had stumbled upon a bizarre personals ad (later revealed to be the work of poet/prankster Chris Parkinson) which described a room for rent; lodging was free of charge, on the condition that whatever would-be tenant wear a handmade walrus costume for several hours every day. Taken with the idea, Smith then immediately pitched a horror/comedy film built around the same basic concept. Judging from the excerpt of the podcast we hear during Tusk's credits, it was to have its tongue planted firmly in its cheek, presenting something absurd and idiotic in the most over-the-top serious fashion manageable. To some extent, the end result succeeds in what Smith and pals were going for; I love the fact that the line, "Is man indeed a walrus at heart?" made it into the final cut, as moments such as that demonstrate everything a film like Tusk should be. If only it could maintain such an overwrought facade for the entirety of its slightly-excessive 101 minute length. Whereas certain elements of this film capture the tone of a straight-faced genre parody flawlessly, the majority of its runtime left me feeling as though I was watching a comedian who couldn't stop laughing at his own joke before he'd even gotten the punchline out.

The story follows jerkass podcast host, Wallace Bryton (Justin Long), as he travels to the Great White North to interview the beleaguered star of a famous viral video. After the kid in question is revealed to have killed himself out of embarrassment, Wallace is left without a subject for his podcast segment (not to mention, any and all sympathy for the deceased or his family). That is, until he stumbles upon a personals ad hanging in a dive bar bathroom that promises free room and board to anyone willing to listen to the life stories of a former maritime explorer. Intrigued by the amount of mean-spirited web content he could generate from such a meeting, Wallace travels to Bifrost, Manitoba to interview the enigmatic Howard Howe (Michael Parks), who regales an enraptured Wallace with tales of his past adventures. Naturally, things take a turn for the absurd as Howard eventually drugs Wallace's tea and begins surgically transforming him into a walrus. Meanwhile, it's up to Wallace's co-host and girlfriend (Haley Joel Osment and Genesis Rodriguiez) to travel to Canada and, with the help of a painfully unfunny Johnny Depp cameo, rescue their friend before it's too late.

As I said before, the origin and mission statement of this movie are arguably the best things about it. There's something pure and wonderful about the idea of a filmmaker coming up with a hilariously stupid idea, gathering some friends, and saying "this sounds fun, let's make it". Honestly, good for Kevin Smith; he started at the bottom and has long-since shilled his way to the top, finally amassing enough disposable wealth and studio clout that he can make literally whatever he wants. That's every filmmaker's dream, and I don't blame him for utilizing the advantages he's accumulated over the course of his career in order to make that dream a reality. I just wish he'd take it even slightly seriously; Tusk is designed from the ground up to be something nonsensical and absurd, which I get. The only problem is a terminal lack of commitment. It tries to be a horror/comedy and fails on both fronts, deciding to be nothing instead.

There are moments in Tusk in which the horror is legitimately effective (namely when, spoiler-alert, Wallace is completely transformed into a grotesque approximation of a human walrus). There are also moments where the deadpan "I'm not sure if this is supposed to be a joke" style comedy works well (see the aforementioned "Is man indeed a walrus at heart" line). The problem is, these moments are few and far between. Tusk clearly aims to lampoon the Human Centipede school of horror films, in which irritating protagonists suffer comically grotesque consequences at the hands of mad doctors who scream inane platitudes over classical music, acting to the rafters while covered in buckets of fake blood. The foundation is there, but the execution is what kills this experiment in its tracks. You get the impression that Smith and company are just screwing around; while a sense of behind-the-scenes fun can often enhance lesser films and make for a more entertaining, enjoyable experience, here it just feels like a millionaire wasting everyone's time. I'm totally down for a self-aware genre parody about Justin Long getting turned into a walrus, but I found myself wishing that Kevin Smith would just stop dimly giggling into a bag of Funyuns and tell an actual joke for once.

Nowhere else is this feeling of frustration more evident than the scene where Johnny Depp appears as a former inspector who has been hunting Howard down for several years. Imagine a friend of a friend telling a supposedly hilarious story of the last time they were drunk; it drags on forever and ever and is not once even remotely entertaining, only to end with "well I guess you just had to be there". That's Johnny Depp's character in this movie. It's Johnny Depp doing a bad Québécois accent and eating a cheeseburger while he tells a monotonous story. Every time he says someone's name, he says their full name and title. Every. Single. Time. This is the joke, please laugh.

Really, the only notable performance here is Michael Park as Howard, and I get the feeling that he only stood out because he's a dignified-looking older gentleman with a very nice voice saying completely ridiculous things. His part could have been played just as well by any kindly-looking actor, a John Hurt or Jim Broadbent type. He does his job well, but it's not anything mind-blowing. Justin Long pulls off the insufferable fame-hog role a little too well, but I will give him credit for how well he tapped into his inner walrus once he was sewn inside the massive, stitch-covered suit. There are honestly some things I liked about Tusk; they just had nothing to do with the script, performances, or overall execution of the film itself.

Tusk is a movie I sincerely wish I could love. The entire reason it was made in the first place is that some friends came up with something that made them laugh, they said "we should make this into a movie", and then they went and did it. That's a remarkable, beautiful thing that should be celebrated and lifted up as a paragon of artistic expression. The key words being should be. The reality of the situation is that Tusk is nothing more than a self-indulgent waste of time that thinks it's far more clever and hilarious than it really is. The concept is solid in an unapologetically silly kind of way, but that's where the thought process on this project started and ended; Kevin Smith said "wouldn't it be funny if we made a horror movie about a man getting turned into a walrus?", dug three million dollars out of his couch cushions, and the end result is Tusk, a movie that provides nothing especially entertaining to anyone but the people who made it. That said, I've heard that it's still far better than Yoga Hosers, so maybe I shouldn't be so quick to judge.