Review: Land of the Lost

Land of the Lost is based on the classic television series created by Sid & Marty Krofft, and this updated version stars Will Ferrell as has-been scientist Dr. Rick Marshall, suddenly sucked back through time. Way back. Now, Marshall has no weapons, few skills and questionable smarts to survive in an alternate universe full of marauding dinosaurs and fantastic creatures from beyond our world.

Sucked alongside him for the adventure is crack-smart research assistant Holly (Anna Friel) and a redneck survivalist (Danny McBride) named Will. They are chased by a T-Rex and stalked by painfully slow reptiles known as Sleestaks, Marshall, Will and Holly must rely on their only ally—a primate called Chaka (Jorma Taccone)—to navigate out of the hybrid dimension.

This sounds like every 14-year-old boy’s dream movie – Will Ferrell and dinosaurs! And I will admit, Will Ferrell is a talented man. Some of his routines on Saturday Night Live reflected his ability to parody the political and social worlds, and his Elf is both touching and hysterical. But what’s the deal with Mr. Ferrell stripping down to underwear in nearly every one of his films? It’s kind of like hearing a joke over and over from a relative not so good at telling a joke the first time. Enough already with taking off your clothes, Mr. Ferrell. If it was ever funny, it has ceased to be. It’s just gross, like much of the rest of the humor in this rather unpleasant, time-sucking monstrosity.

Having abducted a beloved Saturday morning series from our childhood, Mr. Ferrell and his group of molesters have disfigured the concept of Sid & Marty Krofft with rude, crude and forced sight and verbal gags. Will Ferrell, like those other gurus of grime, Seth Rogan, Ben Stiller and their younger versions, has managed to bedazzle a generation now convinced that all humor stems from bodily functions. Like his comrades in comedy, Ferrell has become a pied piper to a generation convinced that all humor stems from sophomoric scatological humor.

With a comic format that revels in I-can’t-believe-I-just-saw-that bathroom buffoonery, we are accosted with overly familiar crudities that mask themselves as humor. At one point Ferrell uses animal urine in a routine that goes on and on, his creepy monkey-man sidekick keeps grabbing a woman’s breasts (indeed, no part of the anatomy goes unspoofed), and even Jesus is used for the sake of a laugh, as well as His and His Father’s names being profaned.

It does contain a few laughs, but they are few and far between, accompanied by a great deal of strained and overly familiar routines. Does this year’s batch of movie comedies signal the demise of wit? Are movie studios going to continue to support their comedians, whose idea of a joke is a good old boob or urine gag? Isn’t it bad enough that we have surrendered the music world to the gangsters of rap? Now we must give over comedy to people I imagine could spit real far? I weep for the future.

The film is rated PG-13 for crude language and profanity. There are two profane uses of God’s name, and the expression “Oh my God” is used as frequently as on an episode of Friends.)

For a more detailed review, check out the free website, Previewonline.org, where Phil Boatwright reviews films from a Christian perspective.