The Happytime Murders

There are scenes in "The Happytime Murders" that would make Kermit the Frog blush and have Miss Piggy running for the exit. Director Brian Hensen takes his father's beloved childhood puppets (though no Muppets were harmed in the making of this film) and puts them in a movie with more ejaculating jizz this side of a Stormy Daniels' feature. In what will likely be its most celebrated scene, the film's gumshoe hero - the blue-faced, Colombo-inspired Phil Phillips (Bill Barretta) - explodes with more silly string than at a six-year old's birthday party. Who knew he had it in him?

In this send-up of a film noir detective mystery, Phillips is brought in to solve the murders of famous puppets from a decades-old television sitcom, "The Happytime Gang," which, it is pointed out, had social significance because it was the first successful network comedy starring puppets. In the film's universe, humans and puppets co-exist, but not equally. Puppets are second-class citizens, mocked by humans who see their role in society as entertainers. Phillips is an exception - willing to stand-up to bullies and hold his own with both cops and criminals.

In fact, he was once a cop, partnered with LA Police detective Connie Edwards (Melissa McCarthy), but an unfortunate series of events led him to leave the force with such shame that a rule, bearing his name, was made to not allow puppets in the police force. Little wonder he's cynical and moody.

When one of his murder victims turns out to be his brother, a fast-living playboy murdered in a messy attack by a pack of dogs, Phillips joins Edwards in solving the crime. But more murders ensue, and that in each Phillips is at the scene of the crime, he becomes the prime suspect, pursued by a zealous FBI agent (Joel McHale).

Also crucial to the plot is that Edwards is the recipient of a puppet kidney, which, it is explained, has turned her into a sugar junkie, mainlining cocaine-like lines of sucrose that give her a Molly-like high, which gives McCarthy a chance to let loose with her usual over-the-top style. (The actress came to the project after a number of other actors exited it and was able to rewrite her character to her advantage.)

It being a send-up of a Bogart-like noir, there is a requisite femme fatale, here a voluptuous crimson-haired puppet (Dorien Davies) who employs Phillips to discover who is blackmailing her. Here Hensen and his scriptwriter Todd Berger pay homage to "The Big Sleep" with Davies' character, as well as "Fatal Attraction" with a celebrated shot that answers the question that the carpet doesn't match the drapes.

The cleverness of much of the film comes with the seamless execution of the integration of the puppets into contemporary Los Angeles, here a series of seedy locales where the down-and-out Happytime Gang members are forced to reside. Why they are being killed off may have something to do with the upcoming syndication deal for the long-gone sit-com, which will make the cast members wealthy, that is, if they survive. (Their deaths are pretty grisly, but it is just fabric that flies in the graphically shot murder sequences, which elicit laughs.)

Hensen packs a lot of action in the film's relatively brief running time (less than 90-minutes) and many of the set pieces, conceived by Berger, are hilariously executed. While its concept may echo "Who Framed Roger Rabbit?" and its use of R-rated humor recalls Trey Parker's "Team America: World Police," there are enough raunchy laughs to make for a late summer treat for those inclined to want to embrace their inner 14-year-old boy's sense of humor.