Jason Bateman, left, and Kevin Spacey sar in “Horrible Bosses.”
What is it that we hate about our own horrible bosses? Oh, yeah: Everything. There is potential here.
For a few blessed moments, “Horrible Bosses” is as smart and observant as “Office Space.” Nick (Jason Bateman) notes that his grandmother “never took s – – t from anyone” — and died poor. “The key to success is taking s – – t,” he decides, and there may be a dark vein of comedy truth there. But soon enough this is a film about guys sticking toothbrushes up their butts, tough guys named “Motherf – – ker Jones,” and Kevin Spacey running around screaming with a pistol.
Look at how crazy is the craziness we are doing for you. Isn’t it crazy? the movie shouts, and the more it does, the less you’ll laugh. This thing has a “The Hangover” hangover.
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For instance: Kurt (Jason Sudeikis) can’t stop himself when it comes to the ladies, but — he’s Jason Sudeikis. I could believe his character if he were played by Bradley Cooper. Similarly, standing in for Zach Galifianakis, there is Dale (Charlie Day) — he’s short, odd, dumb, furry. Instead of being fat he has an absurdly high-pitched voice. He isn’t instantly annoying, but give him 10 seconds. After that your eardrums will be begging for succor and your dog will be howling. I’ve heard static that has a lower frequency than this guy.
All three friends have awful superiors, but alas for the movie only Nick has an interesting one. He is Harken (Kevin Spacey, effortlessly dialing back to “Swimming with Sharks”). Discussing Nick’s big promotion in a vaguely defined sales job, he stands pouring a glass of whisky and asks Nick if he’d like one. As it is 8 in the morning, Nick demurs — so the boss asks whether he thinks there is something wrong with an a.m. nip. Nick says he guesses not, and finds himself handed the single glass while the boss watches empty-handed. Obviously, Harken points out, he isn’t leadership material if he accepts a drink in the morning.
Dale is a dental assistant whose sexy boss is a harasser who keeps grabbing at his crotch and demanding he hit the sheets with her. Since women never do this, the comedy starts out strained and goes nowhere. Worse, the dentist is Jennifer Aniston, whose slut act is neither particularly convincing nor particularly out of character; “Friends,” after all, was pretty smutty. Maybe Reese Witherspoon’s sweetness could have made this one-dimensional vamp surprising, but watching Aniston rattle off pages of naughty talk in order to revive her fading career is as sad as it was watching her and Nicole Kidman do a hula dance-off in “Just Go With It.”
Meanwhile, Colin Farrell, as the third boss, has only a few minutes of screen time, during which he wears ridiculous clothes and sports a bad comb-over. He wasn’t made for broad comedy, and he’s trying far too hard. It’s a dead heat as to whether he or Jamie Foxx should be more ashamed. Foxx, playing a supposed hit man named “Motherf – – – er” for the sole reason that the movie thinks it’s fun to have the guys can begin each sentence, “Motherf – – – er. . .,” has nothing to do except look black and threatening, a combination the movie seems to find hilariously daring. I wasn’t offended, just bored.
After a lot of setup and a break for an extended joke about urine, the boys decide to murder one another’s bosses, then spend the rest of the movie bumbling.
Idiocy can be funny, but let’s not forget that for all of this movie’s aspirations to be out-there, it relies on the staple of the sitcom mentality. Sitcom scripts are hacked together in a few days, and rely on dumb-guy jokes because they are the easiest to churn out. At the movies, you expect a bit more thought than a gag about mistaking a fat woman for a pregnant one.
Bateman and Spacey emanate so much intelligence that it’s a waste to throw them into a finale involving cars slamming into each other and guns waving in the air. Someone should have tossed out everything in the script that isn’t about the psychological war between the two of them and ordered a rewrite.
kyle.smith@nypost.com