A MILLION WAYS TO DIE IN THE WEST

SETH MACFARLANE BITES THE BIG ONE WITH SCATTERSHOT COMEDY

I am not a Seth MacFarlane fan.

But I'm not a massive hater either.

When Family Guy first arrived, I was one of those douchebags who was vaguely insulted by the existence of this show that seemed to be encroaching on territory held by The Simpsons.

Then I remembered that I stopped watching The Simpsons and promptly forgot all about him...  Until Ted was released.

I was and still am a huge proponent of that movie -- a sturdy balance of high concept, irreverence, cameos and a teddy bear fellating a chocolate bar. In fact, there was a night (shortly after the red band trailer was released) when the "Thunder Chunder Song" echoed long and hearty through the streets, my drunken war cry as I hunted for Indian food and a quiet place to pass out in my own sick.

So, when A Million Ways to Die in the West announced its existence, I was pumped. Not only a western, (Hollywood's dying art and a genre I have great affection for) but a comedy western? "A Blazing Saddles for the Twitter age!" I imagined, "Ted with a six-shooter!" I opined.

This is not what I got.

I was instead treated to 116 minutes of poorly-timed and rambling dialogue, self-aware parody that fell into self-parody (which I didn't even realize was possible in a parody) and Seth MacFarlane, now sans mo-cap suit and Peter Griffin's dulcet tones, missing the mark at nearly every turn. 

His first on-screen offering since his turn in 2010's cultural milestone The Tooth Fairy, MacFarlane's performance as mild-mannered shepherd Albert was tainted with unease and overcompensation in equal measure. He feels the need to sell every line, as though his voice isn't interesting without that nasal Griffin twang, and in the quiet moments he has even less sense of purpose and presence. I imagined he was counting the seconds until he could yell "Cut!"

Meanwhile, Charlize Theron, MacFarlane's partner in crime, proved to be the film's saving grace as Anna, reluctant bandit and trophy wife to Liam Neeson's murderous gunslinger, Clinch. Theron's ballsy charisma, infectious laughter and comic timing showed she has more to offer comedy than just the acerbic barbs of the beastly Mavis Gary. Were a spin-off to be in the offing, I could see Theron's character being more than enough to carry a feature film.

Sarah Silverman's pixie-like saloon whore Ruth also deserves special mention. Her dry and somewhat dreamy delivery (a major strength in her stand-up) makes the explicit material her character is dealt much easier to swallow (...what?).

In fact, the women of this picture come off better than the men, with Amanda Seyfried's character Louise being given one of the more memorable scenes from the film. I'll let you to decide which one. 

Liam Neeson is suitably menacing and his stunt bottom is more than a little cheeky (...WHAT?), while Neil Patrick Harris's mustache gets sucked on by Amanda Seyfried -- Yes, I decided I couldn't trust you to decide which one. And NPH's character is perfectly superior in every way.

Yet despite the worthy casting, A Million Ways is let down by an uneven and often abrupt script that can't decide which pitch to swing at. 

And this is where the wheels come off the wagon (...seriously, what?). A Million Ways positions itself as a satirical kick in the testiculars of every romanticized depiction of the Frontier in cinema, establishing the sheer lunacy of living in the American West through Albert's repeated and comprehensive critique of life in Old Stump. And yet MacFarlane does not follow it through, falling back on the kind of absurd and outlandish gags (Great Scott!) that Blazing Saddles did without apology, but here would seem out of place, undermining the film's main objective.

But who really cares about that?
"This is a comedy, not one of the handful of serious dramas that studios churn out come Oscar season. You see it for the yuks. Do it got yuks?" says one of you hipsters. So I leave you with this:

I went to see A Million Ways with a friend of mine. Now, bear in mind he'd been working early shifts for the three days leading up to us seeing the film and he'd only gotten a cumulative three hours sleep in that time, such is his masochistic circadian rhythm. Of the 116 minutes this film runs, he saw about 8 minutes. He slept through the rest. And only the big laughs woke him.