The producers of Identity Thief could have cut five trailers for the movie, and each one would have been accurate. They could have cut a trailer that made the movie look like an action thriller, complete with car chases, trigger happy bad guys, a crusty bounty hunter and a crime boss that runs his operation out of a prison cell. They could have cut a trailer that made the movie look like a frothy family comedy, complete with giggling little girls who love their daddy and a doting wife. They could have cut a trailer that made the movie look like a drama, with a cheerless woman mourning over her lack of belonging, complete with tear-jerking scenes tailored to win Academy Awards. And they could have cut a trailer that made the movie look like a raucous, R-rated sex comedy you would not want to show to any giggling little girls, or doting wives.
Instead, they cut a trailer that made it look like a wild and wacky road trip movie.
Identity Thief is actually all five movies crammed into two hours. The result is a film with a serious identity crisis. Your head will spin as it whiplashes from one extreme to another, sometimes within the same scene.
I get it. I do. Identity Thief isn’t a movie, it’s a product tailored to appeal to the broadest possible audience, and that’s okay. It taps into our fears about having our identity stolen, tries to make us laugh, and then regurgitates a well-worn formula.
Critical to the success of this product are its two principal actors: Jason Bateman as Sandy Patterson, the victim, and Melissa McCarthy as Diana, the thief. Bateman is a good actor who plays well off of others, and he does admirable work in Identity Thief as the innocent everyman. McCarthy is an excellent actress, too, with remarkable range, but she’s been typecast in comedies in which she spouts badly improvised, sexually crude dialogue. Here, director Seth Gordon reeled her in and gave her some meat on which to chew, and she does so with relish. Bateman and McCarthy have strong chemistry together, and McCarthy is, in equal measure, funny and touching.
I found the opening scenes compelling. Seconds after the movie begins, Patterson, an accounts manager for a large company in Denver, gets a call from McCarthy, who’s posing as an agent of a fraud protection business. Within seconds, she has Patterson’s full name, Social Security number and date of birth. If the horror stories are true, that’s all it takes.
Diana proceeds to take Patterson to the cleaners. Within days, his credit cards are maxed out, the axe is at his throat at work, and he’s arrested for assault – all a result of Diana’s actions in Florida, where she’s living it up while bringing his life crashing down.
Diana is arrested, too, following a drunken brawl, and somehow (the details escape me), the Denver police acquire a copy of her mug shot and the details of her criminal actions. Unfortunately for Patterson, their hands are tied due to jurisdictional issues. So Patterson decides to travel to Florida to get her.
Diana is not an easy fish to catch, but Patterson eventually reels her in and starts the long drive home. Close behind are a pair of thugs who work for a crime boss Diana screwed over and the aforementioned bounty hunter.
It’s too much for one movie. One minute, you’re laughing as Diana drives Patterson nuts by singing every song on the car radio, and the next you’re watching in horror as a sweaty, overweight, balding middle-aged man dances in his underwear for Patterson in a seedy hotel room, and the next you’re supposed to cry as Diana blubbers on about having no family, friends or past.
There’s enough to entertain, though, and you can go to the restroom or get popcorn during the parts you don’t like. Wish I’d thought of that during the underwear dance.
Rated R for sexual content and language. Two-and-a-half stars out of four.