'Riff Raff' review: A missed opportunity and a misuse of a stellar acting company
How do you cram a cast of A-listers -- Bill Murray, Jennifer Coolidge, Pete Davidson -- into a crime caper so laugh deprived that calling it a comedy qualifies as false advertising?
Check your theater listings for "Riff Raff," where you can see what "waste of talent" truly means. The fault does not lie with the stars, who do their bonkers best, but with the script by John Pollono that mixes comedy, thriller tropes and violent action with the subtlety of an anvil.
There’s direction to match by Dito Montiel, whose 2006 autobiographical debut feature, "A Guide to Recognizing Your Saints," showed promise that’s gone missing along the way.
Set between Christmas and New Year’s but opening two months too late to qualify as a holiday package for families that kill together, "Riff Raff" at least starts strong. Murray, a deadly deadpan, delight as mafioso Leftie, who shows up at a Maine vacation home with his depressive flunky Lonnie (Davidson) with no intention of spreading cheer.
The vacation spot belongs to Vincent (a listless Ed Harris) who lives there with his new wife Sandy (Gabrielle Union) and stepson DJ (a likable Miles J. Harvey), soon off to Dartmouth, who provides narration and flashbacks to set us straight about the characters with a "highly detailed topographical map" of the house where the action mostly transpires.
Are you with me? Suffice it to say that Leftie and Vincent -- with his own history of violence -- go back a ways and Lefty has it in for Vincent’s biological son Rocco (Lewis Pullman), who makes a surprise appearance with his pregnant girlfriend Marina (Emanuela Postacchini).
To avoid spoilers, let’s just say that Rocco had an encounter with Leftie’s son Johnny, potently played by Michael Covino, that turned brutal and Leftie is not going to let it ride. As DJ tells us, "family can be complicated."
And just when you thought you couldn’t take another character in this dysfunctional family get-together, Coolidge shows up as Ruth, Vince’s boozy, potty-mouthed ex-wife with an eye to steal what she can from Sandy, who stole the husband she loves or at least still lusts after.
To drum up some elusive suspense, the movie opens with a flash forward (shades of "The White Lotus") to DJ holding a gun to the head of his stepfather. Shocks ensue or they would in a better, more coherent movie or one that actually earned its bloodbath of a climax.
Thank the gods of casting for the few good things that manage to squeeze through. Coolidge, the MVP for laughs, can effervesce even a flat line like "Oh my gawd -- are we all gonna die." And Murray is a hoot when he’s trashing Lonnie for his stomach upsets or pegging a potential victim as a "must-kill."
These actors are so good they could spin comic gold from a computer instruction manual. But this dull script provides even fewer opportunities for lift-off.
"Riff Raff" is more than a missed opportunity, it's the misuse of this stellar acting company is a crying shame.
