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What a strange movie. Certainly not in the David Lynch sense, but strange that nasty, juvenile, excretory offal I wouldn't take a blind dog to see would be so funny, at least when one of its stars, Oliver Platt, is onscreen.
Platt plays professional wrestler Jimmy King, WCW World Heavyweight Champion and former trailer trash deified by manipulative promoter Titus Sinclair (Joe Pantoliano). When he falls out of favor and loses both belt and trademark crown, diehard fans Gordy (David Arquette, who has apparently been in so many 1-800-CALL-ATT commercials, he's convinced that shtick is funny) and Sean (Scott Caan) abandon their crashed port-a-john service truck and embark on a quest from Wyoming to Atlanta to New York, back to Wyoming, to Las Vegas, to help Jimmy regain the title. Along the way plenty of WCW stars show up, as well as an aged wrestling coach (Oscar winner Martin Landau -- ?) and a scheming Nytro girl (Rose McGowan).
When Platt isn't around, this is strictly Deuce Bigelow stuff; in the first half hour there are so many scenes of dripping sewage that I wanted to go home and take a Lysol bath. But, unlike more lauded comic actors such as Jim Carrey and Robin Williams, Platt is always, always funny. He'd make a great wrestler, since he can sell even the most inane dialogue. Just in recent months he's helped salvage Lake Placid, Three to Tango, and Bicentennial Man, not to mention doing quality, original things such as The Impostors. He's the funniest actor in the business, and should run for President as the candidate from the U.S. branch of Monte Python's old Silly Party. C
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