It’s easy to see how Ricky Stanicky’s basic concept – a trio of friends hire an actor to pretend to be the made-up pal they’ve used as an all-purpose excuse to get out of trouble for years – could make for a great comedy. And given the comedic chops previously demonstrated by Zac Efron and John Cena, casting the former as the center of the friend group and the latter as the actor hired to pose as the title character also makes a ton of sense. Unfortunately, the result is a movie whose handful of solid laughs aren’t enough to justify the remainder of its running time.
As explained in flashback (with an accompanying “kids get splattered in dog crap” bit that suggests a level of gross-out the rest of the movie doesn't match), Ricky Stanicky is the imaginary friend Dean (Efron), Wes (Jermaine Fowler), and JT (Andrew Santino) dreamed up as kids – the invented scapegoat for their collective wrongdoings and absences. Obviously, the Ricky con hasn’t been subjected to any close scrutiny, as they’ve somehow kept this ruse going for 25 years, despite never introducing Ricky to anyone else in their lives or presenting any photographic or video evidence of his existence. We see they have a phone for him, and they’ve created an Instagram account where “Ricky” posts images he’s never in, but there’s no way that would be enough to fool so many people for so long.
And yes, I know I’m questioning the logic of a silly comedy from one half of the directing team behind Dumb and Dumber and There’s Something About Mary. But it’d be much easier to push such nitpicking aside if the opening scenes of Ricky Stanicky were simply funnier. After all, you can shrug off a lot more if you’re laughing. But the establishing scenes are mostly a drag, while Dean, Wes and JT come off as notably manipulative and arguably cruel as they convince the people they love that their dear friend Ricky has cancer and is in the hospital so they can skip a baby shower – for JT’s own child! – in order to go to a concert in Atlantic City. It would be one thing if these guys being total selfish douchebags was the point, but it feels like director Peter Farrelly (and his five listed co-writers) want to have it both ways, making the Ricky lie a humorous flaw shared by three lovable guys. But the tone feels off, the proceedings are dull, and few of the jokes land – until Cena enters the picture.
As Rod, a.k.a. “Rock Hard Rod,” Cena parachutes in from a better, funnier movie. The WWE Superstar has proven his willingness to commit and set aside any vanity in the name of comedy, and does so once more here, playing a needy, desperate legend in his own mind. A performer by trade, his act consists entirely of masturbation-themed parody songs; Rick Stanicky is at its funniest when Cena is running through Rod’s repertoire in montage, cosplaying as the pop stars he’s lampooning. (This is why he’s in Britney Spears drag on the poster.) Barreling his way into a conversation with Efron, Fowler, and Santino at a casino bar, babbling on about “jizz jams” and how good his Owen Wilson impression is, Cena brings much-needed laugh-out-loud energy. His character understandably makes an impression on the guys, so much so that when circumstances arise that require them to finally introduce Ricky Stanicky to their families, Rod is their first pick for the part.
Rod-as-Ricky makes a big splash at the bris for JT’s newborn son, with Cena bouncing off of all of his co-stars, including William H. Macy as Dean and JT’s bemused boss, Ted. In a fun touch, Rod is just as committed to his performance as the actor playing him, having meticulously studied up on the Ricky “Bible” the guys have provided him. (Also appreciated: The acknowledgement of both Cena’s absurd buffness and the obvious age gap between him and the guys he supposedly grew up with.) But Cena’s positive impact can only last for so long – and only when he’s on screen. Rod’s continued insinuation into the main trio’s lives should be the recipe for some good, old-fashioned, high-tension comedy, but Farrelly instead decides to follow the lead of his last two films – divisive Best Picture winner Green Book and the Efron-starring period piece The Greatest Beer Run Ever – and play things more dramatically, with results that don’t pay off.
Not to say the Farrelly brothers’ movies were ever devoid of any heft or sentiment – even Dumb and Dumber took time to humanize its imbecilic protagonists with Jim Carrey’s big “sick and tired” speech. But the entire third act of Ricky Stanicky veers deep into drama, complete with multiple emotional confrontations and a fairly dark backstory for Dean that feels out of place and lacks weight. It’s too much, too packed together, and is a shift that would need to be done in a far more clever and nuanced manner than Ricky Stanicky is capable of. It’s an awkward shift that doesn’t earn the pathos it’s striving for.
Appropriate for a movie named after his adopted alter ego, Rod is really the only character who pops, with Efron, Fowler and Santino doing their best but still feeling adrift. Efron, so terrific in The Iron Claw last year, at least gets in one hilarious line delivery when Dean receives some unexpected news about Ricky from Ted. But for the most part, the main characters are a bland bunch, all introduced with one defining shortcoming or obstacle meant to be predictably overcome before the credits roll. The same goes for the supporting players, including Lex Scott Davis, Anja Savcic, and Daniel Monks as the respective romantic partners for Dean, JT and Wes – characters who are, by and large, one note and rarely allowed to be funny.
