MOVIE REVIEW: Riff Raff
Images courtesy of Roadside Attractions
RIFF RAFF– 2 STARS
For A Guide to Recognizing Your Saints director Dito Montiel’s ninth film Riff Raff, he assembled an eclectic ensemble cast combining many different types of performers, starting with the veterans. Despite being the same seasoned age of 74-going-on-75 years old, Academy Award nominees Bill Murray and Ed Harris have never shared the screen before. They replaced the originally cast Dustin Hoffman and Brian Cox in a move that most would not see as a downgrade on paper. Flipping to the side of youth, Saturday Night Live alum Pete Davidson and Top Gun: Maverick’s Lewis Pullman are on career hot streaks of dependable lead and supporting performances. The ladies joining the affair are the fresh face of Italian import Emanuela Postacchini, longtime favorite Gabrielle Union, and the top-billed whirlwind wild card of Jennifer Coolidge.
LESSON #1: LITTLE GOOD COMES FROM UNANNOUNCED GUESTS– New and old crossroads of wrongdoings collide in Riff Raff. The married couple of Ed Harris’s Vincent and Gabrielle Union’s Sandy are trying to enjoy the holidays at a remote vacation home in Maine with Sandy’s college-bound son DJ (Miles J. Harvey of The Babysitter) when Vincent’s adult son Rocco (Pullman) shows up unannounced. He brings his pregnant girlfriend Marina (Postacchini) and his alcoholic, petulant mother—Vincent’s ex-wife— Ruth (Coolidge). Emphasizing his past experiences and the fact these two families do not commonly convene, Vincent’s first thought is “What kind of trouble are you in?” As it turns out, his question of low faith was spot on. Rocco is on the lam from killing the wrong person in an unwanted confrontation.
LESSON #2: THE PAST NEVER STAYS BURIED– That casualty was Jonathan (The Climb’s Michael Covino), who was not just a connected guy, but the only son of Leftie (Murray), a contract killer who has a long, varied history of conflict and camaraderie with Vincent. Fueled by mourning and focused revenge, Leftie is following Rocco’s trail with his younger underling Lonnie (Davidson). All of this turmoil—the guns, the killing, and even the swearing—represents a previous sinful life the reformed Vincent has vowed to leave beyond and not expose to DJ and Sandy. With every clash and profane rant, DJ and Sandy are hearing and learning more than an earful about their dear old patriarch.
Many would say, going by that selection of talent thrust together in this predominantly single-setting premise written by Stronger screenwriter John Pollono, the stars were aligned for a peppy crime comedy in Riff Raff. The potential combinations offer interesting mixes of presences and styles. It’s too bad because Pollono’s script and Montiel’s reins as the director cannot align characters and tones with any semblance of congruency. Simply put, everyone is in a different movie from their scene partners.
Lewis Pullman, in fashion and speech pattern choices, is trying for slicked-back gruffness like he’s in a Scorsese gangster saga. His charisma would work in spades if Riff Raff was not spun as a dysfunctional family gathering with Christmastime overtones. Having Postacchini’s hot broad in tow would be the right arm candy, but she’s third-trimester pregnant, making her the least dangerous person in a movie that—at some point—needs to sell danger to the audience.
Ed Harris, true to his M.O., is as serious as a heart attack playing the retired heavy looking to fly straight. The problem is Riff Raff is supposed to be a crime comedy, and, other than cracking semi-adorable rookie beers with DJ, Harris is way too stern for this genre. He’s never the source of any endearing humor. Gabrielle Union is doing her level best to play the accepting and homely wife to Harris’s persona. Nonetheless, their marital pairing does not mesh with any believability, and the actress’s inherent edge (especially for anyone who saw her award-worthy work in The Inspection a few years ago) is almost entirely squelched.
Clinging to Ed Harris and Gabrielle Union like a puppy, Miles J. Harvey is trying to narrate these proceedings like it's an Alexander Payne film. He’s presented as an impossibly naive and sheltered Black 18-year-old. Next to the ready-to-pop Marina, DJ is supposed to be the second-most harmless person in Riff Raff, but is granted unearned courage and eye-rolling dumb luck by the climax.
LESSON #3: WHEN JUICY PEOPLE PLAY DRY– Now, this is where the natural comedians should be asserting their authority to save Riff Raff. Alas, they’re plugged into different movies too. Jennifer Coolidge is an out-of-control fireworks display as Ruth. The actress is doing her uncouth, horny, and hot-mess schtick we’ve seen for the better part of three decades, and it’s too much for Riff Raff. She belongs somewhere else louder than this. Speaking of comedic combustion, they brilliantly positioned Pete Davidson to partner with Bill Murray. Let the young man, no pun intended, riff with a legend and create magic. Davidson should be a sardonic spark plug of enormous smugness. Instead, he’s a never-smiling wet blanket henchman with zero repartee other than one off-handed callback of complementing Ruth’s pasta-cooking skills.
Speaking of Murray, he’s the one person in this Riff Raff cast pitch-perfectly for what needs to be done with this material. The deacon of the deadpan delivery’s matter-of-factness for the violence of his character bounces humor and menace cleverly. When his foreboding heel arrives in the same room with his quarries to point fingers of blame and gun barrels of judgment, Dito Montiel finally allows business to pick up in the last twenty minutes. Frankly, it takes too long to get to the treat that is Bill Murray holding court.
Before then, the majority of Riff Raff is a disjointed and boring intersection of Vincent’s present and past families. Too wide of a pendulum is swung between reflective complications and the trigger-happy dark comedy the movies probably should have been the whole time. Because so many of the performances fail to blend with the same intent or tone, the rising level of everyone’s insufferability stops being entertaining in a hurry. When the shit does hit the fan—as it should in a daring crime movie willing to splash a little blood and stack a few bodies—Riff Raff is low on the hysterics that should go with this situation. Nothing makes anyone truly flinch or fly off any handles. Even one “Get the f–k out of my house” would have gone a long way.
LOGO DESIGNED BY MEENTS ILLUSTRATED (#1284)
