Wild Hogs: Review

Wild Hogs has been the commercial surprise of the year thus far. Despite being a film featuring a number of stars that appeal to middle America, few could have guessed its steady climb up and above the 100 million dollar mark. For a film that is as homoerotic as it is homophobic, this is surprising, not for the homophobic aspects but certainly the homoeroticism. In fact, I can't tell which was more offensive: the phobia that permeates the film or the fact that the country so flocked to see such a film. Filled with awful performances, a worse script and juvenile direction, Wild Hogs is a complete failure and an utter waste of the talent involved.

Directed by Walt Becker, the brains behind Van Wilder, the film is laughably bad from start to finish. In fact, with the exception of the horrific Mark Wahlberg vehicle Shooter, may be the worst film of the year. Becker displays almost no talent, his direction amateurish and dull. However, I can't entirely fault Becker here as any comedy must begin with a good script, and to be completely frank, I'm not quite sure a "script" every existed here. Brad Copeland's (who wrote for Arrested Development!) "script" is so dull, I don't know where to begin. Imagine every cliché moment from every road movie of all time, throw in the worst slapstick gags imaginable, add in another biker gang and presto. Blockbuster! Copeland and Becker tell the story of four middle aged men who are tired of their lives and decide to go on a cross country motorcycle trip as a way to find themselves. Their self anointed gang is the "Wild Hogs", as lame a biker name as I've ever heard. During their trip, they experience a closeted police officer, a good skinny dip and a town besieged by the "Del Fuegos", a fearsome road gang led by Ray Liotta.


Now I can understand the appeal of John Travolta, who has made his fair share of great films and usually possesses the type of affable charm that makes for an easy performance to like. Here, however, Travolta is terrible. His overacting, from facial expressions to everyday body movements are so over the top, one can't help but sit there and wonder what went wrong here. Travolta's performance here makes the worst of Pacino's work look understated and reserved. And they aren't even good facial expressions but rather the type one would imagine inhabiting the performances of a middle school video project. Martin Lawrence and Tim Allen are themselves and are about as I expected. If you like or hate either coming in, nothing in Wild Hogs will change your mind. Which brings us to William H. Macy, as reliable an actor as Hollywood has to offer. All I can say is why Billy why? Macy is the type of character actor who could pretty much score a role in any big dumb movie he wanted with his eyes closed. A naturally talented actor, he is so out of place in this film, it is painful. If I were Mr. Macy, I would fire my agent. If I were Mr. Macy's agent, I'd fire myself.

Normally, a good road movie (Vanishing Point, Easy Rider, Thelma and Louise) relies on panoramic shots of the beautiful surroundings this country has to offer as a way to situate the film, both thematically and narratively. The road and undeveloped expanses generally represent a cleansing force, a way for the protagonists to rediscover the beauty of life and realize what they have going for them. If nothing else, it provides some major eye candy for the audience who is having to sit through shots of a car/bike going down a long road (generally) to nowhere. Once again, Wild Hogs must have missed the memo as Becker decides it would be much better to use shots of the clan doing cool ducks and lean forwards on their bikes to pass the time. The results are a massive squandering of what could have been a semi-redeeming factor. Unfortunately for the viewer, we're treated to shots of John Travolta and Martin Lawrence giving each other fist pounds and laughing. Sweet.


The most perplexing part of the whole ordeal is the rabid clash of ideological values that occurs throughout the film. One would think that the filmmakers involved would be at least half way aware of what the film is implying yet it doesn't appear to be that way. Now, a cross country trip with four guys, in close quarters is, at the very least, a homosocial situation. Skinny-dipping with three guys is somewhat of a homoerotic situation. Making jokes about gays while skinny-dipping is homophobic. Anyone with half a clue can see the ideological clash here: male bonding is something of an idiosyncratic process. A good comedy would point out these facts and joke about them. Wild Hogs never quite reaches that level. It just makes more gay jokes. Needless to say, its a frustrating and insulting experience.

To add salt to the wound, none other than Peter Fonda shows up at the end, which made me hate the film even more. Not because I don't like Fonda, in fact, quite the opposite. For a guy who was a legitimate counter-culture icon, responsible for the greatest of the counter-culture films, Fonda shouldn't be within 100 miles of this film. Unfortunately, he shows up at the end as some kind of Dalai Lama of bikers, remind Liotta's character what the road means. Needless to say, I was disappointed that Wild Hogs managed to ruin that as well. In all seriousness, I can't recommend this film to anyone. If I was a biker, I would annoyed that this is the best Hollywood has to offer me. Anyone would be better off renting (or buying) Easy Rider and re-watching that to get a true idea as to what the road really means.

*