Guest House Paradiso (1999)

AKA We All Know That It's Really Bottom: The Movie.

Rik Mayall and Adrian Edmondson star as Richard and Eddie, a couple of absolutely deranged individuals who are somehow running what is clearly the worst hotel in the UK. Richard is rude to many of the guests, although always has time for the long-term resident Mrs. Foxfur (Fenella Fielding), but he also just wants plenty of spare time to perv on any females that he hopes to see naked. His heart soars when the hotel is visited by Gina Carbonara (Hélène Mahieu), a gorgeous woman who is wanting to stay hidden away from her callous and abusive husband (Gino Bolognese, played by Vincent Cassel).

I was really disappointed when I first watched Guest House Paradiso. I somehow thought that Edmondson and Mayall would find a way to translate their characters into something that would retain the essence of their comedy while also expanding the size of their onscreen world. Although there are some exterior shots here, Guest House Paradiso largely takes place in the titular hotel. There's a bigger supporting cast, and some impressive practical effects, but the film-makers are more interested in just spending some more time putting our leads through the wringer than in seizing the opportunity to be a bit more cinematic in between people being on the receiving end of some major testicle trauma.

Perhaps that was always to be expected. Edmondson stepped into the director's chair, working from a screenplay co-written by the two leads, and it's understandable that they would want to keep things quite simple and within their comfort zone, especially as this was all being done after the quad bike accident that very nearly killed Mayall, leading to him being hospitalised for quite some time.

Anyway, revisiting the film all these years later, after buying a new physical media release of it, ended up being a very good idea. I still have problems with the film, it's not exactly a misunderstood classic, but it's actually a lot better than I remembered. That's partly to do with a cast full of now-familiar faces who were relative unknowns to me back in the late 1990s, it's partly to do with not having anything around nowadays that has that particular brand of Mayall-Edmondson comedic violence, and it's partly to do with me now appreciating a few more of the gags. And the set-piece that has Mayall running around the hotel in a red and spiky rubber set of underwear is impossible to watch without at least chuckling every time the situation gets worse for him.

While both Mayall and Edmondson can play these characters in their sleep, their commitment to the lunacy is always admirable. I don't know how anyone can keep a straight face while acting opposite them, but both Mahieu and Cassel manage, and both gain brownie points for wholly getting into the spirit of the thing. Cassel is particularly enjoyable as he commits to playing someone so repugnant and awful that both Rich and Eddie seem like a better companion. Which is really saying something. Fielding is delightful, and it's fun to see Bill Nighy, Kate Ashfield, and Simon Pegg cast together in a pre-Shaun feature (although they don't all share the screen at any one time). Lisa Palfrey also suffers some indignities for the sake of the comedy, and Steven O'Donnell is a very weary, angry, and drunken chef.

There's still something that holds this back though, something that stops it from being on a par with the TV show it stems from. I couldn't put my finger on it years ago, but now I know what the problem is. It's all too well-realised. The dirt, the body fluids, the stains . . . they're never as funny when you can almost smell them through the screen. It's a similar problem with the violence. Watching Mayall and Edmondson pretend to hurt one another is all well and good, and still works here, but there are some practical gags (one relating to eye damage and one that puts a fishing hook through the nipple of a sleeping victim) that lose some of the humour because of the painful detail shown. And don't get me started on the excessive amount of vomit filling up the screen during the third act.

You might never want to check in to the Guest House Paradiso, but you should definitely check it out.* It's gross, funny, and gross. But also funny. But very gross.

*IF you're a fan of Mayall and Edmondson.

7/10

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Drop Dead Fred (1991)

Drop Dead Fred (Rik Mayall) is an imaginary friend to a young girl named Elizabeth. Well, he's imaginary, but also very real. Or is he? If you want to view this movie in a nice, entertaining way then yes, yes he is. Because the other option is a bit too dark. Anyway, I'm getting ahead of myself. Young Elizabeth grows up to be older Elizabeth (Phoebe Cates), and viewers get to see her having a very bad day. She loses her fella, her job, her car, and her money. And she ends up having to stay with her mother (Marsha Mason). And that's when Drop Dead Fred reappears. He claims that he's always ready to help when needed most, and a lot of his antics are good fun at the time, but he also ends up landing Elizabeth in a lot of hot water. Just like he did when she was just a kid.

Directed by Ate de Jong (who has numerous other credits, but this remains, arguably, his most popular film), Drop Dead Fred is a fun, but uneven, movie that benefits immensely from the two lead performances. Mayall can do anarchic and childish in his sleep, and he's perfect as Fred. Seeing him alongside Ashley Peldon, who portrays the young Elizabeth, shows how great his personality works with children, and also shows a sweetness at the heart of his constant mischief. Cates doesn't often get her due for her movie roles, and I'm as guilty of that as anyone, but she does well here to not be completely overshadowed by Mayall, and the moments that require more physical comedy from her allow her to display just how good she is. Mason is also great as the cold mother, Tim Matheson is enjoyably loathsome as a suave sonofabitch undeserving of Elizabeth's love, Carrie Fisher is a lot of fun as the best friend who tries to help out until her patience is stretched to breaking point, and Ron Eldard is, well, a bit bland, but harmless enough, as Mickey, a former childhood friend and now the guy who may be a better match for Elizabeth.

The script, by Carlos Davis and Anthony Fingleton, does everything that it needs to do, but it never realises the full potential of the premise (though one scene, involving a room full of kids, all with their own imaginary friends, comes close). It does, however, manage to walk a tightrope fairly effectively, always reassuring viewers that Fred is very real, which allows everyone to root for Cates instead of just worrying about her fractured state of mind. Mind you, a more ambiguous treatment of the material may have yielded more interesting results.

Although dressed up as a movie aimed at children, this is almost equally a movie aimed at adults remembering their childhood. We've all had days when we'd like to do nothing more than build a fort out of the furniture cushions and hide away inside it. We've all had moments when we'd love to just go crazy, let out all of our frustrations, and to hell with the consequences. Drop Dead Fred is made for those moments when you want to walk over a white carpet without taking your shoes off, when you want to make a mud pie, when you want to touch the wet paint. It speaks to the part of our brain that used to be more fascinated with the interior of our nostrils than the depths of the oceans or the vastness of outer space. Kids will enjoy it, but probably not as much as the adults yearning for a time when they didn't have to be so responsible.

6/10

http://www.amazon.co.uk/Drop-Dead-Fred-Phoebe-Cates/dp/B000260NTK/ref=sr_1_1?ie=UTF8&qid=1402434093&sr=8-1&keywords=drop+dead+fred