Even though I’m about 99% sure that the uproar over The Interview was the most tasteless marketing ploy of all time, I still gladly shelled out $6 to watch it online. To be frank, I didn’t even need a reason other than Seth Rogen and James Franco. Plus, any movie that starts with Eminem making a cameo and using the phrases “gay peekaboo” and “breadcrumb trail of gayness” is bound to be not only offensive, but a perfect fuck-you to the holiday cheer expected of Christmas Eve. (I’ll let Rob Lowe’s cameo be your Christmas surprise.)
Rogen and Franco play two young, hep and thriving journalists who get roped into an assassination plot to take out Kim Jong Un — a.k.a. the Boss of North Korea, the son and successor of the most notorious King Jong-il. Of the two, Rogen is the closest thing to a moral expounder in the film’s opening exposition; he wants their show to cover more serious news and when Franco discovers that — in their AU of America — Kim Jong Un is a fan of their show, he decides interviewing him would be the perfect gig. Of course, the American government sees it not as an opportunity of hard hitting journalistic integrity, but of course, a perfect murder.
As you’d expect from these two, the script is full of fast-paced derisive jokes that takes zero prisoners and give us classic Rogen awkwardness. I suppose if you’re going to be incessantly racist it’s considerate to make sure you don’t leave anyone out. The R-rated language is as gratuitous as ever and, frankly, in the face of the holidays I’ll gladly take supererogatory fucks. Though I do get the feeling that the ongoing thread of Lord of the Rings references is purely Franco’s indulgence (or maybe I’m just “peanut butter and jealous”).
After a short segment that is vaguely reminiscent of The Hangover, the plot charges forward with a delightful appearance of Lizzy Caplan as an intelligence agent tasked with convincing them to, you know, take out Kim Jong Un. Unfortunately, she’s only on screen for about thirty seconds before she becomes sexually objectified. But I digress.
There’s something almost convincing about this plotline. It’s like a Rorschach: the more you stare at it, the more plausible it seems that there’s something to see. When you think of opportunistic people who would have the audacity to pull off something so ridiculous — you don’t think of Tom Brokaw; you think Perez Hilton. We collectively trust Jon Stewart and Stephen Colbert the way previous generations trusted “real” journalists like Cronkite, and I think it’s obvious Rogen and Franco capitalize on this. The, uh, Ricin strip technology leaves a lot to be desired. Who in their right mind wouldn’t see that? It’s so obvious. Actually — no, I believe this. I believe that the U.S. government would assume that other nations aren’t smart enough to realize that James Franco doesn’t have a Listerine strip on his god damn hand. In fact, Franco’s tiring arrogance is probably meant to represent our collective institutionalized arrogance. Rogen, on the other hand, represents the rest of the nation — which is merely unintentionally racist. You know — that friend you have that doesn’t know the difference between China, Japan, Korea, Vietnam, etc.
A half hour in and I’m happy to report that we’ve officially abandoned the unlikely Ricin plotline because it was mistakenly eaten by one of the North Korean guards. Who thought it was gum. The hijinks have officially begun.
In case you need a reminder, America’s relations with North Korea have been strained largely because of their unapologetic testing of nuclear weapons. Of course, the aforementioned Ricin plotline suggests that the U.S. is happily testing and developing biological warfare, also a no-no. But, you know, like North Korea started it!
Of course, no film written by two adult men would be complete without the hiding of intel in Seth Rogen’s asshole. The nastier alternative to Laurel & Hardy shenanigans continue when Kim Jung Un shows up (played by Randall Park of Veep) and Franco sets about getting “the interview” — which includes a classic montage of very expensive sports cars, tanks, Katy Perry (foreshadowing alert) and the relative homosexuality of margaritas.
[Why am I still watching this?]
Arriving midway through the film, I begin to ask myself why I’m watching it. I begin to question my patriotism, my obsession with pop culture, my tendency to enjoy the raunchiest of raunchy humor. . .but actually, wait — why is North Korea upset about this? It’s inane. It’s like an elongated SNL sketch that periodically falls flat and relies a little too much on R-rated humor. Should I wait for the redemption? Will it improve? Will I make it to the end? I don’t know, but I’ll try.
I’ll do it for you.
After the rather graphic death of the guard who, as I mentioned, chewed up the Ricin, I think you owe me big time for watching this. In case you weren’t aware, Ricin is a highly toxic chemical that comes from castor oil plants. It’s carbohydrate binding which makes it easy to consume and doesn’t require a very big dose to be fatal: a few salt-sized grains will do the trick.
The death of the guard unsettles Rogen and Franco, who are now rightfully concerned that their cover will be blown wide-open on account of their carelessness. Franco, who has developed a bit of a bromance with Kim Jong Un, saves him from Rogen’s assassination attempt via — you guessed it — a back-up Ricin strip. Of course, then he slowly begins to realize that Kim Jong Un ain’t fucking around and could probably wipe out the entire world if he felt like it. Meanwhile, Rogen is wooing the young (pretty, of course) propagandist to the Kim family in the hotel room (and where is that Ricin strip? Oh, still on his palm. Great. Is a romance about to be thwarted by biological warfare? This always happens, doesn’t it?) A grain of truth in the film crops up when Rogen gets emotionally cockblocked. Not even Ricin is a faster boner-killer than feelings.
Disillusioned Franco, meanwhile, stands beneath a snowy street lamp, a tableau of plot twist ensues as he begins to realize the ways in which Kim Jong Un has (as predicted) manipulated him. He returns to the hotel — angry! And now, his feelings hurt by the fakeness of their friendship, the fakeness of it all, inspires rage. The propagandist, not Rogen and not Franco, finally gives us the meaning of this film: killing leaders of our enemies changes nothing, but knocking them down off their pedestal is what incites social change. “How many times can Americans make the same mistake?” She asks. As many times as it takes! Franco replies, speaking for more presidential cabinets than I can count.
And so, using the magical powers of journalism, Franco moves forward with the interview, hoping that by humanizing Kim Jong Un, the people of North Korea will regard him not as a God among men, but as someone ultimately no more powerful than anyone else. Except — maybe he is, because he comes into the interview bearing the gift of a cuddly puppy and nothing is a greater threat to national security than cuteness. BUT despite the proffering of fluffy puppy, Franco moves forward and asks the truly revealing, hard-hitting policy questions — much to North Korea’s chagrin — and the true nature of the political landscape (“super important”) shines through.
To be honest, you don’t need to watch any more than this because you know how it ends- the graphic death of Kim Jong Unvia a lively helicopter explosion which was released earlier this week.
I’m still on the fence about how much of this is effective satire, and how much of it was just a Rogen-Franco romp, but if their aim was to bring in revenue before the end of the year, I suspect they’ll easily meet their mark.
