Let us now praise Robert Downey Jr, whose Method-run-amok goof is the only reason to sit through this comedy about a Vietnam War epic that – oops – accidentally finds its pampered cast engaged in real jungle combat. The star’s Oscar-hound character, Kirk Lazarus, is cast as an African-American soldier; this means Lazarus – and thus, Downey – spends the entire film with his face blacked up. Actor, director and co-writer Ben Stiller undoubtedly intended to mine easy yuks from the shock value, but Downey transforms the cheap gag into a metacomedic coup: he plays a ridiculously extreme thespian with an equally po-faced intensity. Watching Lazarus preach against the perils of going ‘full retard’ to win awards, or bemoan how the n-word has held ‘his people’ down with such misguided gravitas, you can’t help but admire Downey’s dynamic act of comic jujitsu.



The actor’s darkened visage doesn’t come off as offensive; it’s Tropic Thunder’s waste of its other talents, notably Jack Black, and the curious laziness in the laughs department that are insulting. If A-list stars want to mock studio-movie bloat and turn their action-flick parody into the exact thing they’re making fun of, be our guest. But when the presence of a certain mega-celebrity Scientologist screaming obscenities in a fat suit is mistaken for ‘edgy’ and Downey’s singular achievement has to compensate for DOA bits about delusional Tinseltown dimwits, we have a problem. Stiller used to skewer such blockbuster follies in his early- ’90s sketch show with hilarious, acidic acuity. Tropic Thunder is nothing but mild vulgarity mixed with explosions and entitlement, a p*ss-take of Hollywood excess that doubles as an example of it. Physician, heal thyself.