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While that may or may not be possible, note that a very similar dynamic is key to appreciating funnyman Michael Myers' Austin Powers: The Spy Who Shagged Me. Granted, his follow-up to '97s cult comedy phenomenon Austin Powers: International Man Of Mystery, has plenty of its own zaniness to recommend it, but a familiarity with the absolutely absurd world inhabited by sex-crazed secret agent Austin Powers and his foppish alter ego, Dr. Evil (both played by Mr. Myers), will assure your guffawing entrance into Mr. Myers' giant private joke.
For those not among the Powersian cognoscenti, it bears noting that the British title character, a transplanted 60's era icon ("I put the grrr in groovy"), did his last secret agent adventuring in the 1990s. Then, unfrozen after 30 years on ice because he was (and still is) the only one who could defeat Dr. Evil, the refugee from the land of paisley successfully dispatched the bad guy, saved the world, and got the girl. The objective is identical this time. Except that the action is moved back to the Carnaby Street-attired 60's. The change in venue is necessitated when Dr. Evil acquires a time machine.
After he escapes from his outer space Elba, we learn of his return to Earth in one of the film's more memorable scenes, when he and his issue-laden son, Scott, appear on the "Jerry Springer Show" in an episode titled, "My Evil Father Wants To Take Over The World."
Scott speaks the truth. In this variation on the nefarious theme, Dr. Evil's scheme is to travel back to 1969, where Powers is still frozen, and filch the mojo from his cryogenically challenged nemesis. Rendering the mod hero impotent, both literally and figuratively, His Evilness will then be able to blackmail the U.S. President (Tim Robbins) with his Death Ray (one of several Star Wars rip-offs), menacingly aimed at Washington, D.C., from its perch on the Moon.
Happily, insofar as Austin's coyly nicknamed libido is concerned, it just so happens that Her Majesty's Secret Service has also developed a time machine. This allows the cinema's most outlandish ladies man, velvet suit and all, to chase his arch enemy back in time and defend his, well, his honour, so to speak.
In the film, as well as in the various and ubiquitous product advertisements that have hitched themselves to the Austin Powers star, it has become a smirkingly competitive exercise to see how many different bawdy euphemisms for male private parts can be issued in marathon frenzy. The movie boasts two such stints, featuring a star-studded chorus of welcome cameo appearances. It's really very silly. Childish, actually. But it's precisely this counterbalancing combination of absolutely adolescent naughtiness and scattershot satire that comprises the bizarre charm of things Austin Powers in the first place. The buoyant sequel takes pot shots at just about anything, whether director Jay Roach can smoothly integrate it into the plot or not. The wildly creative hits outweigh the misses.
A hydrogen bomb of double entendres, Mr. Myers' ribald send-up of the 007 genre is a bold, liberating declaration of political incorrectness, mixing playground humour with its very own resurrection of classic burlesque sensibilities. And as with bad puns, we both grimace and laugh at the sheer chutzpah of the screenplay's insanely broad strokes, spun before us like a cackling carousel of risqué postcards. But scratch the surface of these racy antics and there's a good-natured naivete to it all, a refreshing innocence in its juvenility. These aren't the disparagingly obscene rantings of an envelope-pushing shock-jock; there is no implied malevolence. Myers is the anti-Stern.
Some outrageous ploys don't work. Completely disgusting but only funny in parts is the inclusion of an obese Scottish hitman (Myers also) in the employ of Dr. Evil, who, for propriety's sake, will simply be referred to here as Fat B. Half-naked and sloppily eating a bucket of fried chicken in bed, this is among the least offensive of Fat B's untidy assaults on the senses. We can also do without the curious predominance of toilet humour, an odd entry in that this is a PG-13 movie and such scatological indelicacies are usually the province of the under 9 set. Whether intended or not, the potty jokes are bound to be ruminated by said younger crowd once the film goes to video and plays the family room ad nauseam.
A novel touch this go-round is the introduction of Mini-Me (Verne J. Troyer), a miniature clone meant to satisfy Dr. Evil's world-dominating vanity. While Mr. Troyer is less an actor and more a catalytic oddity, his presence allows for some clever song and dance duets, including a particularly inspired rap routine. In one of the picture's many running gags, the ridiculous little companion serves as an irksomely Freudian reminder to normal son Scott that he "just isn't evil enough" to earn Dad's fatherly love and approval. And in a return performance that holds a secret twist (and sends Scott to another cathartic appearance on the "Jerry Springer Show"), Mindy Sterling is back as Frau Farbissina, the wicked henchwoman no self-respecting megalomaniac should be without.
Among the more conventional cast is the usual retinue of suggestively named and visually alluring sexpots. These include Kristen Johnston as a Mata Hari pretending to be a fashion model and Elizabeth Hurley briefly reprising her role as wife Vanessa. But when at the movie's outset it becomes obvious that Vanessa isn't exactly what she appears to be, Austin takes the sad realisation and turns it into a positive: "Crikey! I'm single again." Thus, arriving back in the free love 1960s matrimonially unfettered ("Yeah, baby!"), he is able to take up with winsome Felicity Shagwell (Heather Graham), an adoring CIA sweetie ("You're the reason I decided to become a secret agent") assigned to aid him.
Never mind the rampant time travel inconsistencies. In fact, we're instructed to do just that in a stage whisper from Austin's boss, Basil Exposition, once again played by Michael York. And it's good advice, because the nostalgic lampoon of the 1960s, replete with a rub-your-eyes sidewalk cafe performance of "I'll Never Fall In Love Again" by Burt Bachrach and Elvis Costello, is then anachronistically paralleled with a variety of 90's notions. In a car chase scene, Powers himself makes audiences a partner in the joke, pausing to confide how surprisingly similar to Southern California the English countryside looks. Art director Alexander Hammond's day-glo-enhanced sets spoof the times with colourful wit. Austin drives his Union Jack-adorned "Shaguar." Felicity wheels a Corvette decorated in the stars and stripes.
Laughter awaits those who can warm up to Austin Powers: The Spy Who Shagged Me. For those who simply can't or won't, the alternative is to travel back in time, sow the seeds of friendship with my pal Benny, and thus ensure yourself some laughs in the present.
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