'Zoolander' is empty, trivial, predictable — and laugh-out-loud funny
The very silly "Zoolander," which Ben Stiller directed, co-wrote, co-produced and starred in, offers up the pleasures that only a thoroughly trivial piece of work can provide.
It's a one-joke premise (you know, that old story: empty-headed male model gets caught up in plot to assassinate the prime minister of Malaysia) and plainly shows stretch marks from its birth as a Stiller skit for the 1996 VH1/Vogue Fashion Awards. Much of the humor is entirely predictable, and the whole production has the slapdash feel of something done in a hurry, with lots of people saying, "wouldn't it be funny if we did ____?"
And yet — let's just be honest here — it's funny. Some of it is very funny. Some of it is funny enough that I laughed out loud and forgot for a moment that the world — particularly New York, in which this fashion-industry spoof is set — is not a laughing place right now. For that, Stiller deserves a Slashie (the award given to Fabio in the film for being the fashion industry's best "actor-slash-model"), not necessarily for his acting/writing/directing, but for his goofiness/enthusiasm/nepotism.
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Also on hand are Stiller's wife Christine Taylor as journalist Matilda (the film's straight man, so to speak), his mother Anne Meara in a quick egg-throwing cameo, his sister Amy in a small role, and even his dog Kahlua. The movie's also peppered with funny cameos from Garry Shandling, David Duchovny, David Bowie, Cuba Gooding Jr., Winona Ryder and Natalie Portman. Owen Wilson brings his surfer-guy sunniness to the role of model/dimbulb Hansel (he refers to the Malaysian prime minister as "the Claymation dude"), and Milla Jovovich, in glittery lipstick, looks like she could easily devour the cast for breakfast.
But Stiller carries the movie as empty vessel Derek Zoolander, whose earnestly blank face has made him Male Model of the Year for three years running. (Everyone in this movie says "male model" like it's one word.) Stiller faces the camera with his chin jutted out, his eyes open wide, and his cheeks sucked in, and speaks with a vaguely foreign accent and dingbat lingo. (He refers to Matilda as an "investigatory journalist.")
Whether walking along a New Jersey coal-mining road (!) in a snakeskin suit and carrying a matching garment bag, or demonstrating his inability to remove his underwear without taking off his pants (a male-model runway staple, apparently), he's gloriously clueless, like a dressed-up puppy wondering where the food is.
Moira Macdonald can be reached at 206-464-2725 or mmacdonald@seattletimes.com.