Van's the Man
Everybody loves Van Wilder (Ryan Reynolds), and why not? A
seventh year student at Coolidge College, Van is a master of
charm and a harbinger of sage advice. He throws a mean party,
one that draws scantily clad honeys and transcends
boundaries of race and religion, class and clique, sex and
sexual orientation. To boot, he's got a killer smile, a
fantastic bod, and more cash-money than you can shake a stick
at. Yes, Van Wilder is a man of men and an ode to the
All-American Collegiate Dream. Don't we all wish our college
experience could be like his?
Then suddenly, tragically, a lugnut is loosed on Van Wilder's
Fun Bus, and his entire enterprise verges on the brink of a
deadly crash. First, good old Vanny's pop, a businessman who's
startled to learn that his son is still in school, stops payment
on Van's tuition. Next, a sexy brainiac journalism student named
Gwen (Tara Reid) is after his story for the campus paper, though
is seemingly immune to Van's sexual advances. The horror! The
injustice! In the face of such adversity, how will our hero keep
the party going?
There you have it, folks: the premise of National Lampoon's
Van Wilder, the latest version of Maxim, the Movie.
Think of it a Ferris Bueller's Day Off or Back to
School rejiggered unsuccessfully in the vein of American
Pie: an ode to what happens when the over-privileged revel
in being sophomoric, a hurrah to bad boys never becoming men.
It's foolish to expect a movie like Van Wilder to manage
anything more sophisticated than knee-jerk humor. Take your pick
and it's in there: masturbation jokes, vomit jokes, bestiality
jokes, shit jokes, tit jokes. Then, of course, there's the
standard treatment of co-eds: hardbodies with bodacious ta-tas,
perpetually donning tanks and minis, who always seem to be
flashing décolletage or backing that thang up. Don't think that
the crudity in Van Wilder stops there, though. It tops
off with some just-plain-offensive stereotypes. Lucky recipients
of the royal treatment range from immigrants to gays, people of
color to the disabled, the elderly to the sickly.
But it would be too easy to write off Van Wilder simply
for its off-color humor (though it's a sad fact, especially from
National Lampoon, who has been known to create funny movies with
at least a modicum of irony). What makes Van Wilder
disappointing is that, like its main character, it has a
startling hubris and a completely bogus sense of introspection.
Of course you'll love Van because he's so great, the movie seems
to say; of course Tara Reid will give the guys in the audience a
boner; obviously, all the jokes in the movie are damn
funny. First things first: many of the jokes simply are not
funny.
What's more, and somewhat strangely, in these days when
self-awareness is king, Van Wilder is completely level,
unself-conscious, and boring. It's the equivalent of using a
telegram when everybody's got a cell-or, in film terms, the
equivalent of reverting back to Porky's when there's been
American Pie. Did director Walt Becker (not to mention
writers Brent Goldberg and David Wagner) really think we
wouldn't see this?
Like Parker Lewis (and of course, Ferris Bueller, on whom all
these boys are based), Van can't lose. It becomes apparent that
his party-guy antics are undergirded by a benevolent spirit,
that his class-skipping routine does not reflect his supreme
intelligence, that beneath those rock-hard abs is a tender soul
capable of feeling pain and love. Gwen, as she "reports" her
story, discovers that there's more to Van than meets even her
keen journalist eyes. But this is kiddie-pool depth. In the end,
our hero is exactly what we assumed him to be from the
beginning: super-fun, super-cute, super-smart, and super-rich.
I am compelled, once again, to cite American Pie --
which, compared to Van Wilder, looks like Citizen
Kane. In addition to reviving the doubled-over-laughing
gross-out flick, Pie was also sharp, full, and, dare I
say, complex. It was willing to make fun of its characters, to
depict true sadness, to dash its characters' boyish dreams and
show them braving new territories (even if one example was a
pool table). But Van Wilder (the movie and the character) starts
and ends in exactly the same place. We are left with a film that
never questions its own smug confidence, a character who does
not have to develop and grow, because he's always been perfect.
We are left with someone who only teaches, but never learns
(because after all, he's so smart, he's always known his
own faults). I don't know about you, but I hate people like
that.
11 April 2002