Early in the second act of Get Him to the Greek, intern Aaron Green (played by Jonah Hill) is hungover and squirming nervously as the limo carrying him and Aldous Snow (played by Russell Brand) inches through the morning rush in London. Green meekly asks the driver to drive faster or take another route. The driver answers smarmily. Green whispers to himself, “We’ve got 30 minutes to make an international flight. That’s enough.”
With that line, Get Him to the Greek seems to define itself as a fantasy. There’s no way in h-e-double-rugby-sticks that you can get to Heathrow, clear security and get to your gate in 30 minutes when you’re still crawling through London traffic. (Full disclosure: I’ve missed a flight facing exactly that scenario.) There’s also nothing at all wrong with this kind of fantasy–as long as the rest of the film gets the memo that it is supposed to take place outside of reality. Unfortunately, that memo didn’t complete its rounds.
If you missed the trailer for Get Him to the Greek, the executive summary goes like this: Green, the intern, is dispatched by manic record label chief Sergio Roma (played by Sean “His Momma Name Him Sean, I’ma Call Him Sean” Combs) to retrieve formerly massive rock star Snow from the UK and escort him to LA for a career-reviving anniversary show at the Greek Theatre. Green must complete the retrieval in 72 hours. Snow kinda knows what is going on, but behaves without enthusiasm and does not appear at all prepared for the gig. Additionally, Snow is estranged from his baby mother. And from his own father. And Snow is known the world over as a world-class debaucher who abuses every known substance. And Snow is Green’s musical hero. And Green is really unfulfilled by his live-in girlfriend (played by Elizabeth Moss) who is a workaholic nurse. And…I think that’s about it. The tangential story lines pile up kinda high in this film. But I’m pretty sure that’s all of them. (Unless you count Sean Combs doing his best Les Grossman impersonation that may actually be an impersonation of…Sean Combs.)
The part about escorting the rock star drives the film. It’s an obvious fantasy that delivers exactly what you’d expect: booze, boobs, belly laughs and some songs you can kinda sing along with. The part about the torture of the rock star is not fantastic at all. Poor relationship with his pops. Betrayal by his special lady friend. His ego sabotaging his art. Those parts feel very real–and very tacked on. Almost as if they belong to a different film. Something darker and more indie. I suppose we need some kind of conflict other than the ticking clock recording the battle versus the ridiculous deadline. But if we’re being asked to overlook all the impracticalities of the travel itinerary–and the insulting implication that music is a job you don’t actually have to work at–then why not commit completely to the zany in the way The Hangover did? I understand the urge to ground a fantasy in something relatable, but the un-fantastic tangents in Get Him to the Greek are distracting. They made me wonder if we were really watching a Russell Brand biopic. (Which would be pretty cool. That guy is sneaky intelligent.) They’re also a bit of a bummer. We really could have used more boobs. And more of whatever Sean Combs was doing.
Get Him to the Greek is not a bad film. It’s entertaining in places. It just feels disconnected from itself. Like it’s a series of YouTube clips that really want to grow up to be a whole movie. They wanted to, but they didn’t.
DYL MAG Rating: A 6 that kinda wants to be a 5.
