All Rise...

Judge Michael Rankins likes his detectives hard-boiled, but his eggs over easy. Like his women.

The Charge

One man. One case. No clue.

Opening Statement

My name is Rock Slyde. I blame my mother. With a name like that, I was destined for one of two career paths: detective work or porn. After starring in two "art films," I decided the glamorous life of a porn star wasn't for me. Besides…I was hung like a hamster.

If you're still awake after that opening narration, this may be the movie for you.

Facts of the Case

Raymond Chandler, the dean of American mystery novelists, famously described the prototypical hard-boiled detective as thus: "Down these mean streets a man must go who is not himself mean." As portrayed in Rock Slyde, the streets of Los Angeles aren't particularly mean. They're sunny, colorful, and inhabited by benighted cultists, whimsical parodies of film noir stereotypes, and parcel delivery men who suspiciously resemble Eric Roberts.

Down these not-so-mean streets goes our titular detective (Patrick Warburton, Get Smart), a man dedicated to upholding the noir aesthetic in a non-noir world. Rock possesses all the requisite accouterments—a shabby office, a plucky secretary, an ever-present fedora that seems a size too small for his massive noggin. He also owns a secret past: his former career as a gay-for-pay porn star ("I didn't even know what 'bi-curious' meant"), headliner in such genre classics as Butt Pirates of the Caribbean and The Jolly Roger, a "nautical musical."

Rock's nemesis is the House of Bartology, a pseudo-religion helmed by "blessed guru" Bart (Andy Dick, Blonde Ambition), a Crocs-and-scarf-wearing poseur whose headquarters occupies every other available space in Rock's office building. Bart's dual mission in life: 1) to brainwash as many disciples into his cult as possible, aided by cookies laced with a mind-control drug, and 2) to persuade (or blackmail) Rock into vacating his office so that the ever-burgeoning Bartology empire can expand into it.

One fateful night, brownie-baking seductress Sara Lee (Rena Sofer, 24) staggers drunkenly into Rock's office, becoming his latest client. Thus begins a tale that would have Raymond Chandler spinning in his grave.

The Evidence

My expectations for Rock Slyde were, admittedly, low. The presence of two of my least favorite performers—Andy Dick and Elaine Hendrix—was by itself cause for consternation. Add to that the fact that the noir detective parody genre has been done to death—occasionally well (The Cheap Detective and Zero Effect come to mind), more often horribly (The Adventures of Ford Fairlane, anyone?)—and this assignment looked like a rough go.

The good news: It could have been worse. The bad news: Not by much.

The production feels like a lark undertaken by a gaggle of bored Hollywood chums during a weekend off from other, more lucrative gigs. Even the casting is clubby. Patrick Warburton's old Seinfeld pal Jason Alexander pops in for a cameo as an enthusiastically gay mail carrier; Elaine Hendrix, who played Andy Dick's partner on the short-lived 1990s Get Smart TV remake, costars as Rock's dutiful girl Friday; and, of course, Warburton and Dick shared a set for three seasons on the ABC sitcom, Less Than Perfect.

To their credit, the featured cast members acquit themselves acceptably. Patrick Warburton delivers that deadpan, dull-witted goodness we've come to expect from him, playing the absurdities of his role absolutely straight for the most part. Rena Sofer provides a refreshing turn in the thankless role of the femme fatale—in this instance, predominantly femme, with just a dash of fatale. Even the dreaded Dick and Hendrix dial their customary manic shrillness down to a tolerable level. The one character that doesn't fit is the broadest—Bart's Eurotrash henchman Martin, played by Jamie Alexander as a mashup of Mike Myers's SNL talk host Dieter and Geoffrey Rush's archvillain Casanova Frankenstein from Mystery Men.

Problem is, these game players aren't given much to…well…play with. The script has a limp, derivative tone that, again, suggests a thrown-together, quick-buck bonanza rather than quality comedy. The evil cult plot thread comes straight out of Dragnet, by way of Undercover Brother. The jokes, in the main, fall ever so slightly flat. (Here's a sample of writer-director Chris Dowling's faux noir dialogue. Woman client: "Mind if I smoke?" Rock Slyde: "Mind if I tell you you smell like my grandfather after bingo night at the Elks club?") There's also a peculiarly dated character to some of the recurring comic themes. Are over-the-top gay stereotypes still funny to a 21st century audience? Or the notion that a Caucasian man might be attracted to African-American women?

The story's resolution couldn't be less surprising or satisfying. Fortunately, the film's brief running time ends the proceedings before things become too tedious.

Monarch's DVD release presents what's necessary, and not much beyond that. The film looks and sounds about as expected for what's basically a movie-of-the-week production. The only bonus content is a behind-the-scenes featurette that's little more than random outtakes cobbled together, some of which are at least as humorous as anything in the feature itself.

Closing Statement

Nothing about Rock Slyde is painful. It's just that we've seen it all before, and better. There's certainly room in the cinematic annals for another noir detective parody. But it ought to be one with at least an original idea or two.

The Verdict

On this mean bench, a man must be pronounced guilty.

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