The Pentaverate premieres Friday, May 6 on Netflix.
Nineties star Mike Myers is back for his first big live-action comedic showing since 2008's The Love Guru. Landing on Netflix with The Pentaverate -- a spinoff series based on a brief joke in Myers' So I Married an Axe Murderer from 1993 -- the oft-disguised performer is back multiple roles -- about eight main ones to be precise, with other scattered side characters here and there. It's an exhausting effort that never produces enough laughs to justify the massive amounts of makeup or prosthetics involves. There are a few running gags that elicit chuckles, and there's a sweet heart at the center of the vulgarity, but this particular brand feels sadly past its prime.
Firstly, there are some seeds here that could have made for a decent comeback movie for Myers but the choice to extend this tale into a series works against it. Even at six episodes, The Pentaverate runs out of gas quickly as massive hoops are leapt through in order to conjure up a plot involving this benevolent secret society. It's not a lengthy watch, but there's still not enough here to fill the time, and there are many moments when you can feel the scraping and clawing to have something happen.
There are a bunch of other talented comedians in here too -- like Keegan-Michael Key, Ken Jeong, and Jennifer Saunders -- but they're just not enough to pull this project up from the depths of dullness. There's a timely, topical issue being administered here, but it's nothing that hasn't been done before and the adventure is so overstuffed that it all winds up working against the series' attempt at a message about empathy and inclusion.
Myers' most famous non-Shrek character, Austin Powers (Dr. Evil, et al.), also involved a fair amount of time in the makeup chair, so this is a world he's very comfortable with. Other attempts at this -- like The Cat in the Hat and The Love Guru -- didn't produce the same magic, so despite Austin Powers' success, this is not a surefire formula for Myers. And some of the characters Myers plays here too easily blend together and aren't distinct enough to warrant the transformation.
On top of that, because of the production efforts needed to film him in all these parts, the comedic timing is a bit off. Some of these jokes would fly better at higher speed but, A) that's not Myers' bag, and B) the juggling of filming makes most of the exchanges noticeably clunky. Add to that a sub-par script and you've got a ton of jokes that fall flat. Some are reheated hack bits that reference Donald Rumsfeld and Eyes Wide Shut while others try to play things more modern by referencing Gwyneth Paltrow's vagina candle or QAnon. None of it works all that well.
Myers plays five members of the exclusive, elusive Pentaverate -- one dead member and the four remaining: crusty Brit Lord Lordington, the Rupert Murdoch-y Bruce Baldwin, Rasputin-y Mishu, and real band manager Shep Gordon -- plus hero-of-the-tale, elder man-on-the-street reporter Ken Scarborough. It's with Ken that The Pentaverate finds its sweetness, as he's not only a polite, grounded Canadian, but his personality is that of being open-minded and kind.
You won't leave The Pentaverate having not laughed, but it's a strain to get there.
Thrust into a madcap world of miscreants, Ken is an endearing everyman and a reflection of Myers' own fondness for kindly local Canuck TV news "dads." (stick around after the final episode for an actual instance of this). While the Pentaverate fails in numerous ways, Ken acting as the central protagonist is one of the few ideas that feels right here. What begins as Ken trying to get his job back (for CACA News), by breaking a big story and exposing this ancient sect of sting-pullers, devolves into an aimless affair involving a hostile world takeover.
So as to not totally ignore redeeming elements, there are some sequences that are damn funny. Again though, they'd work better closer together, in a tighter format, without bland gaps in-between. Of course, one of these funny bits only works because this is a series, as it involves Jeremy Irons' introductory voice overs for each episode and how they get progressively saltier. Come to think of it, two of the other big moments that land well also involve a meta-Netflix aspect (one having A LOT of penis). Bottom line: you won't leave The Pentaverate having not laughed, but it's a strain to get there.
Continue reading...
Nineties star Mike Myers is back for his first big live-action comedic showing since 2008's The Love Guru. Landing on Netflix with The Pentaverate -- a spinoff series based on a brief joke in Myers' So I Married an Axe Murderer from 1993 -- the oft-disguised performer is back multiple roles -- about eight main ones to be precise, with other scattered side characters here and there. It's an exhausting effort that never produces enough laughs to justify the massive amounts of makeup or prosthetics involves. There are a few running gags that elicit chuckles, and there's a sweet heart at the center of the vulgarity, but this particular brand feels sadly past its prime.
Firstly, there are some seeds here that could have made for a decent comeback movie for Myers but the choice to extend this tale into a series works against it. Even at six episodes, The Pentaverate runs out of gas quickly as massive hoops are leapt through in order to conjure up a plot involving this benevolent secret society. It's not a lengthy watch, but there's still not enough here to fill the time, and there are many moments when you can feel the scraping and clawing to have something happen.
There are a bunch of other talented comedians in here too -- like Keegan-Michael Key, Ken Jeong, and Jennifer Saunders -- but they're just not enough to pull this project up from the depths of dullness. There's a timely, topical issue being administered here, but it's nothing that hasn't been done before and the adventure is so overstuffed that it all winds up working against the series' attempt at a message about empathy and inclusion.
Myers' most famous non-Shrek character, Austin Powers (Dr. Evil, et al.), also involved a fair amount of time in the makeup chair, so this is a world he's very comfortable with. Other attempts at this -- like The Cat in the Hat and The Love Guru -- didn't produce the same magic, so despite Austin Powers' success, this is not a surefire formula for Myers. And some of the characters Myers plays here too easily blend together and aren't distinct enough to warrant the transformation.
On top of that, because of the production efforts needed to film him in all these parts, the comedic timing is a bit off. Some of these jokes would fly better at higher speed but, A) that's not Myers' bag, and B) the juggling of filming makes most of the exchanges noticeably clunky. Add to that a sub-par script and you've got a ton of jokes that fall flat. Some are reheated hack bits that reference Donald Rumsfeld and Eyes Wide Shut while others try to play things more modern by referencing Gwyneth Paltrow's vagina candle or QAnon. None of it works all that well.
Myers plays five members of the exclusive, elusive Pentaverate -- one dead member and the four remaining: crusty Brit Lord Lordington, the Rupert Murdoch-y Bruce Baldwin, Rasputin-y Mishu, and real band manager Shep Gordon -- plus hero-of-the-tale, elder man-on-the-street reporter Ken Scarborough. It's with Ken that The Pentaverate finds its sweetness, as he's not only a polite, grounded Canadian, but his personality is that of being open-minded and kind.
You won't leave The Pentaverate having not laughed, but it's a strain to get there.
Thrust into a madcap world of miscreants, Ken is an endearing everyman and a reflection of Myers' own fondness for kindly local Canuck TV news "dads." (stick around after the final episode for an actual instance of this). While the Pentaverate fails in numerous ways, Ken acting as the central protagonist is one of the few ideas that feels right here. What begins as Ken trying to get his job back (for CACA News), by breaking a big story and exposing this ancient sect of sting-pullers, devolves into an aimless affair involving a hostile world takeover.
So as to not totally ignore redeeming elements, there are some sequences that are damn funny. Again though, they'd work better closer together, in a tighter format, without bland gaps in-between. Of course, one of these funny bits only works because this is a series, as it involves Jeremy Irons' introductory voice overs for each episode and how they get progressively saltier. Come to think of it, two of the other big moments that land well also involve a meta-Netflix aspect (one having A LOT of penis). Bottom line: you won't leave The Pentaverate having not laughed, but it's a strain to get there.
Continue reading...