“Oh, Macy,” was all I could think as Wild Hogs played out on the screen before me. There really is nothing like watching an aging Oscar nominee engage in base slapstick comedy while wearing biker gear. The tattoo of the Macintosh Apple logo (in all its original rainbow glory) is just icing on the cake.
Wild Hogs chronicles the cross-country road trip of four aging friends: Doug (Tim Allen), an uber-domesticated dentist, Woody (John Travolta), a washed up former Big Shot, Bobby (Martin Lawerence), a plumber who wears the skirt in the family, and of course, Dudley (William H. Macy), an accident-prone computer programmer. The group of middle-aged misfits, known collectively as the “Wild Hogs,” waste no time with exposition and embark almost immediately on their adventure (sans cell phones, no less).
In all honesty, Wild Hogs can be described only as awesomely bad. The premise is a bit hackneyed, the characters are one-dimensional, the jokes are, for the most part, predictable. Both the acting and writing lacked that certain quality we describe as “good.” Allen was the same character he always is, Travolta spent a good portion of the movie doing bad impressions of himself, Lawerence’s friendship with his Caucasian counterparts wasn’t believable and Macy was a walking caricature of the hapless nerd all grown up.
The film tries too hard to get its laughs, but this is to be expected, considering the premise and buddy-film genre. When you buy a ticket to a stupid comedy, you aren’t buying subtlety and nuance. The writers also lost several laughs by not employing scene-stealer John C. McGinley as the gay highway patrolman. In retrospect, the creepy, almost menacing character’s sudden disappearance feels incongruous and even Ray Liotta’s bumbling, cross-eyed lackey does nothing to fill the comic void in the second half of the film.
Despite all of this, I strongly recommend the film to fans of any of the leads (or Liotta who plays our villain, leader of the Del Fuegos). Take a friend or two and prepare to be the only people in the audience under 45 (if the audience at Century 12’s advanced screening was any indication). Poke fun at the campy escapades, mock Travolta with all your might, and count how many “oh, Macy” moments you have.