In The Estate, politically incorrect humor is alive but not well

If The Estate is a farce, and it tries—if not hard enough—to be one, where does that leave classic examples of the form like La Cage Aux Folles, The Producers, or It’s A Mad, Mad, Mad, Mad World? Well, still comfortably above The Estate. The film, directed by Death At A Funeral screenwriter Dean Craig, has a promising central idea: a group of estranged cousins jockey to please their dying aunt to become the beneficiary of her will. It has all the ingredients of a farce, where increasingly desperate characters navigate an improbable, roadblock-filled situation at an energetic pace.

The execution is where it’s lacking: the wit, the timing, the headlong comic drive, and the ability to make us laugh at actions and dialogue that, in any other context, would be rude or distasteful. The one thing The Estate does exceptionally well is waste a terrific cast that includes Toni Collette, David Duchovny, and Kathleen Turner. Otherwise, this is an oddly lifeless and often misjudged collection of crude ideas and off-color jokes that comes at a time when we need to be reminded that crude ideas and off-color jokes can be the stuff of great comedy.

The Estate establishes its irreverent tone with an early colostomy bag scene, and then ends with a bit featuring an old man’s penis hanging out of his pants. This gives the film very little comedic build since the comedy knob is turned to 11 way too soon. Both the colostomy bag and the penis are in the unfortunate hands of Macey (the ever-versatile Collette). She and her sister Savanna (a grating Anna Faris) have just arrived at the tony New Orleans mansion of their Aunt Hilda, a detestable old broad dying of cancer. She’s played by Turner, whose smoky voice, once the stuff of dreams, has congealed into a wonderfully cantankerous rasp. Macey and Savanna haven’t seen Hilda in years, but their coffee shop is facing foreclosure, so their plan is to ingratiate themselves with their miserable aunt so she’ll leave them her fortune. Macey’s first test is to empty Hilda’s colostomy bag, a gag that Dean does nothing with, other than put us on notice that anything can happen. But really, it only signals that very little here will live up to its potential.

Turns out Macey and Savanna aren’t the only gold-digging family members descending on Hilda’s home. Their cousin Beatrice has already settled in and scored major ass-kissing points with her ornery aunt. The domineering Beatrice is played by Rosemarie DeWitt with an array of side glances and sneers that faintly echo the great screwball comedy actresses of Old Hollywood. The final cousin to arrive is Robert (Duchovny, riding a fun, douchebag vibe). He prefers to be called Dick which, in his case, is both a noun and an adjective. A fashion embarrassment and a lousy entrepreneur, Dick is in pole position for Hilda’s loot, showering her with compliments, flowers, and a Chantilly cake. He also harbors a long-standing crush on Macey, and has “done extensive research” on the internet about cousins sleeping together.

Craig’s script is filled with tasteless situations that seem less intent on being funny than on proving to the world that comedy has no boundaries in these cancel-filled times. It’s a point well-taken, but an argument poorly made when the jokes and the energy are so flat and no amount of up-tempo cues in Will Bates’ undistinguished, percussive score can goose the proceedings to farcical levels.

One wonders what the Farrelly Brothers, during the pair’s There’s Something About Mary prime, would have done with Macey, Beatrice, and Dick scrambling to be the first to get Hilda laid. Craig’s idea, which is structurally sound but wanting for solid laughs, involves successfully tracking down Hilda’s high school crush, Bill (Danny Vinson, holding his own nicely against the starry cast) who’s now a sweaty and shambling registered sex offender. Some audiences may chafe when, later, Macey and Savanna’s Dungeons And Dragons-loving younger sister, Ellen (Curb Your Enthusiasm’s very funny Keyla Monterroso Mejia) is cajoled into acting as bait for the perverted Bill.

For those people, there are many, many classic comedies they will never have the pleasure of watching. But the irony here is that Craig’s soft directorial touch ensures that we never feel we’re in transgressive territory. The film throws off no sense of danger (see: To Be Or Not To Be) nor does it gleefully wallow in its political incorrectness (see: Blazing Saddles). Its light indulgences in sentimentality, as when the cousins decide to work together, or when Macey questions her mercenary actions, are tossed off and unconvincing concessions to a genre that works best when it’s shamelessly unapologetic.

As comedies like Bad Santa, Sausage Party, and Team America: World Police have proven, audiences will embrace unlikeable characters or a story filled with vulgar ideas as long as they’re laughing. And as plays like Noises Off have proven, successful farces are delicate structures where timing and build are crucial. The Estate isn’t up to the challenge and is, instead, content to flounder in that middle ground, as an undercooked comedy of ill-manners that wants credit for “going there” without us feeling like any lines were crossed. It’s a shame given its game cast, but, as Joe E. Brown said to Jack Lemmon at the end of Some Like It Hot, one of the all-time great farces, “nobody’s perfect.”