Cocaine Bear
If forced to keep this review to one line, it would read: Cocaine Bear blows.
Directed by Elizabeth Banks (Pitch Perfect 3; Charlie’s Angels), a talented actor who’s yet to do much of note behind the camera, the loosely — we’re talking muumuu on a broom handle here, folks — fact-based tale of a wild animal dying from some dumped powder in Northeast Georgia is not nearly as ridiculous or fun as the premise suggests.
The fantasia, as imagined by screenwriter Jimmy Warden (The Babysitter: Killer Queen), never commits to its silliness and sketches in a handful of semi-inspired scenes featuring the blood-thirsty, drug-fueled ursine with cardboard characters that are solely present to pad the thin — making Twiggy look obese — premise to feature-length status.
As such, criminals played by O’Shea Jackson Jr., Alden Ehrenreich, and the late Ray Liotta (who deserves a FAR better swan song) and authority figures embodied by Margo Martindale, Jesse Tyler Ferguson, and Isiah Whitlock Jr. (who doesn’t even get to say his trademark shiiiiiiiiiiiit, despite this being the inbred, redneck cousin of Snakes on a Motherfuckin’ Plane) intersect in the name of purported humor that largely plays like bad improv.
Indeed, Cocaine Bear really only works when the titular beast is involved, and even there, her murderous rampage is frequently conducted with such ineptitude by Banks that it makes one want to sign a petition for the actor never to direct another film again.
If the poorly planned daytime execution wasn’t insufferable enough, the movie builds to a nighttime climax where barely anything is distinguishable in the forest darkness and viewers wouldn’t be entirely upset if the film’s purported heroes — distraught mom Sari (Keri Russell), her daughter Dee Dee (Brooklynn Prince, The Florida Project), and fellow elementary schooler Henry (Christian Convery, Playing with Fire) — joined the long list of fictional victims.
In the immortal words of my colleague Bruce Steele, Cocaine Bear gives good trailer — and probably missed its calling as a faux preview in a non-existent sequel to Grindhouse. All of the feature’s best moments are in the ad campaign and, with some additional exaggerated clips, it would likely have joined the ranks of Edgar Wright’s Don’t as an all-timer in two-minute cinema.
Instead, its high is a short-lived one and should only be enjoyed by those with thick white rings around their nostrils prior to showtime.
Grade: C-minus. Rated R. Now playing at AMC River Hills 10, Carolina Cinemark, Grail Moviehouse, and Regal Biltmore Grande.
(Photo: Universal Pictures)
