You might not know Nick Corirossi, but if you’ve spent enough time in alt-comedy circles, you may have heard of his alter-ego. “Bug Mane” is a dark woke anti-comedy heel that first surfaced during an episode of Doughboys, a podcast about chain restaurants. If all that sounds like nonsense, that’s kind of the point. Over a handful of maligned guest appearances, Bug takes to the microphone to chastise the podcast’s hosts, bitch about Star Wars sequels, and flirt with transgressive politics. The character is grating enough to make you feel like you need to wash your headphones after a few minutes of listening — and this writer says that as a fan. So, it’s no real surprise that The Napa Boys, the debut movie from the man behind the Bug, should exist as a cinematic shitpost, a dare to walk out before the second act.
The Napa Boys keeps Wet Hot American Summer as its North Star but lands somewhere closer to Disaster Movie. Corirossi conceived his film as an unofficial sequel to 2004’s merlot-bashing Sideways. Or, more accurately, the fifth movie in the Sideways cinematic universe. In the spirit of the Zucker Brother’s rheumatic legacy, The Napa Boys treats Alexander Payne’s movie as a launchpad to satirize the increasingly unwieldy condition of modern movie franchises, and everything from The Lord of The Rings to American Pie is fair game. They’re worthy targets: even the most diehard Marvel fans have grown weary of the homework required to get up to speed for an otherwise casual trip to the theater. But The Napa Boys is so diffuse with defensive irony — and shit and cum — that its punching up reads more like punching itself in the face.
Jack Jr. (Corirossi) and Miles Jr. (Armen Wiseman), the heirs presumed of Payne’s original, have gone their separate ways after years of raking in fame and fortune as America’s #1 wine guys. But when their old pal Mitch (Mike Mitchell) faces eminent defeat in a wine competition against the nefarious Squirm (Paul Rust), it’s up to Jack and Miles to get the gang back together and save the day. A spoof on The Napa Boys’s wavelength doesn’t need much more than that in terms of plot — but it does need good jokes.
To Corirossi’s credit, he’s packed a punchline into just about every sliver of dialogue, and many are, at least on a conceptual level, clever. In two discreet title cards, the movie announces itself as The Napa Boys 4: The Sommelier’s Amulet, both establishing the fictional NBCU and positing the movie as a direct-to-video entry within a bloated, failing franchise. The Napa Boys is littered with cameos and callbacks to earlier installments: The Napa Girls spinoffs, Jack Jr.’s old flame (the Milfonator), a MacGuffin in the form of a cake with a dick-sized hole in its top. The movie commits to the bit like the violinists on a sinking Titanic, but there comes a time to jump ship. Its in-jokes are self-congratulatory, its irony suffocating, and by the time Jay and Silent Bob make an appearance, the movie gets so drunk on metatext that its face turns green around its wine-stained teeth.
Almost every punchline in The Napa Boys seems to preempt its own rejection and guards itself by hunkering down into its own bile. Watching the movie can feel like walking past a table of middle-school boys: it’s convinced of its genius but so terrified of dismissal that it steps out of its way to make you feel stupid for not getting the joke. The irony runs thinnest with Jack Jr. and Miles Jr. themselves. The Sideways paintjob veils a pair of horned-up alcoholics better fit for O.C & Stiggs than Alexander Payne, a duo bent on sucking and fucking their way down the West Coast. The sex comedies that litter the DVD shelves of VRBOs aren’t immune from criticism, but you can only hide so many boner jokes behind a feint before you’re making boner jokes yourself. The Napa Boys isn’t much smarter than American Pie, but it sure would like you think so.
All these limp provocations and smarmy self-references might be forgivable if The Napa Boys was simply funny. Over 93 minutes and twice as many punchlines, this writer laughed roughly twice (both times courtesy of Doughboys’s Mike Mitchell). That’s not for lack of talent: the better half of the movie’s cast are alt-comedy veterans, Corirossi included, and many have produced enduring works well-deserving of their cult followings. Call it a problem of too many cooks. The Napa Boys might have been better served as a conversation in a writer’s room, a chance to blow off some steam about the decaying business and pitch a few jerk-off gags before turning attention back to something worthwhile. As it stands, it’s a betrayal of the better instincts of everyone involved, a sweaty parody that trips over its own feet before it can land a punch.
DIRECTOR: Nick Corirossi; CAST: Armen Weitzman, Nick Corirossi, Sarah Ramos, Mike Mitchell, James Neighbors; DISTRIBUTOR: Magnolia Pictures; IN THEATERS: February 27; RUNTIME: 1 hr. 32 min.
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