Saturday, September 28, 2013

The Worlds's End (Brockway)

Tropic Sprockets by Ian Brockway

The World's End

Edgar Wright (Shaun of the Dead) concludes  his comic trilogy with his main man Simon Pegg in a (no surprise here) doomsday spoof. What is surprising is its heart and attention, which saves the film from falling into utter nonsense and giggles.

Pegg stars as Gary King, a lifelong adolescent drinker  who resembles a derelict Bono in black leather and pants. As a man, Gary is now in rehab just going thru the motions. He is eaten up that he did not finish a pub crawl with his mates, known as The Golden Mile. The final pub was known as The World's End.

They never made it.

Gary becomes obsessed with getting his friends back on the quest of pub rolling as a way of recapturing adolescence as well as to continue drinking.

The green light for the endeavor hinges on the milquetoast Andy (Nick Frost) who had a tragic accident involving his hand. Andy is a teetotaler and his character is a highlight in the film.

As in the Judd Apatow-toned outing "This Is the End", much of this film is full of personal insider quips that have a lot to do with Edgar Wright and Simon Pegg and the familiar deadpan comments mixed with some trademark rapid-fire editing used in their previous films.

Simon Pegg walks out with his buddies for pint after pint in the manner of Tarantino's "Reservoir Dogs". His remarks along with his facial expressions become more hysterical and mad by the minute. He delivers all the zany goods that anyone might expect and his grammatically ill lunacy is dead on, equalled only by his spastic sputtering.

There is some solid ribald ridicule between friends and some riotous barbs about The Starbucks Era  stripping drinking houses of flavor and clientele.

There is an abundance of banter going on about abstinence, sobriety and space aliens, and while this gets a bit soggy by the half way point, "The World's End" gets a lift by the sheer madcap style of its combat scenes with limbs flying hither and thither in between long pulls of stout and draft. Not to mention the hordes of headless preppies and clone footballers that wait to screech and wail against our heroes.

The explanation of the plot is less entertaining than the snickering bickering sarcasms,  but when its all put in a pot it makes a good romp, particularly with the presence of Simon Pegg who gives an ample draw of charm and hesitance to balance his over-singed sizzle.

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