Susan Granger’s review of “Balls of Fury” (Rogue)
Fortunately, stupidity is not a sin – or this misguided comedy would be convicted.
A former child prodigy who has never forgotten his disgraceful defeat at age 12 and a deadly debacle at the 1988 Olympics in Seoul, Randy Daytona (Dan Fogler, Tony-winner of Broadway’s “The 25th Annual Putnam County Spelling Bee”) is recruited by an FBI agent (George Lopez) ostensibly to compete in an illegal, underground table-tennis tournament but actually to help capture the notorious international arms dealer, Master Feng (Christopher Walken), the triad kingpin who is responsible for the death of Randy’s father.
Slovenly, chubby and ‘way out of competitive shape, Randy, wielding an ’88 “Def Leppard Rules” paddle, goes into training with an elderly, blind grandmaster (James Hong of “Big Trouble in Little China”), who happens to have a gorgeously nimble niece, Maggie (Hong Kong superstar Maggie Q of “Mission Impossible III”), who plays ping-pong like a demon. As the match “somewhere in Central America” proceeds, losers are fiendishly dispatched with poison darts and a sex slave (Diedrich Bader) rues not reading the fine print in his contract.
Obviously devoted to crude slapstick, writer/director Robert Ben Garant (“Reno 911”), along with writing collaborator Thomas Lennon (who also plays a small part), pile on the stale, rancid ham. Indiscriminate yet ever-game Christopher Walken (“Hairspray”) seems to relish his wardrobe (a garish variety of satin robes – courtesy of costumer Mary Ann Bozek – along with a mile-high hairdo) and delivering inane lines like, “Okey-dokey, artichokey.” And Dan Fogler comes across as a curiously unappealing blend of Jack Black and Seth Rogen. On the Granger Movie Gauge of 1 to 10, “Balls of Fury” is a cheesy, chop-socky, sophomoric 3. It’s like a “Saturday Night Live” skit stretched out to a mind-numbing 90 minutes.
