Men in Black 1997

Beatrice:
You here to make fun of me too?

Kay:
No, ma'am. We at the FBI do not have a sense of humor we're aware of. May we come in?

Beatrice:
Sure.
- Tommy Lee Jones displaying his mastery of comedic delivery that's as dry as Texas toast.

I hadn't remembered this film being as much of a lambaste of human society as it is, but the introduction of the film is almost entirely occupied with taking savage jabs at human and American society and institutions. Now that I'm also middle aged, they landed especially well and got a number of gut laughs out of me. It's to the point of being misanthropic, which can be cathartic when couched in a ridiculous fantasy comedy. Will Smith overdoes it quite a bit on a number of occasions later in the film, and the last act doesn't have quite the impact it did back in '97, but it's still a lot of fun twenty years on, and he and Tommy Lee Jones are a great duo.

I still remember going to my local multiplex theater to see this, feeling conflicted that I could only wear my grocery-store-bought Ray Bans from the short walk from the parking lot into the theater, to meet up with my tall, goofy Black friend who I'd corralled into seeing it with me, and wishing I could have gotten both of us to go in suits. A couple of goofy kids in high school. Good times.

If we really aren’t alone in this universe, or on this planet, I have no doubt that the government agency in charge of minding the space neighbors looks and acts just like the Men in Black. Stoic in their perfect business suits, the MiB seek to impose order on an inherently disorderly situation, taking all manner of impossible behaviors and ridiculous body types in stride without so much as a second glance. After losing his longtime partner to retirement, one such agent (Tommy Lee Jones) recruits a mouthy NYPD detective (Will Smith) as replacement and proceeds to show him the ropes amidst the latest in a series of looming existential threats from above.

It’s obvious that everyone involved had a lot of fun with this concept. The entire cast takes their best stab at stealing the show: Jones as the ‘50s G-Man stereotype, Smith as his cocksure apprentice, Rip Torn as their curmudgeonly handler, Vincent D’Onofrio as a spastic victim of body-snatching; we’re truly spoiled for choice. The creature effects are appropriately playful and outlandish, as is the art direction and musical score (another characteristically quirky effort from ‘90s composer du-jour Danny Elfman). Director Barry Sonnenfeld allows us plenty of time to enjoy the absurdity, and for the stars to make hay with the bright, witty script, while also keeping the narrative moving and working in a few memorable, big-budget action splashes.

The jokes are still funny (even though I've long-since memorized most of the punchlines), the adventure provides a perfect blend of introduction and elaboration, and the pop culture asides still work a quarter-century later. Even the CG effects haven't aged too terribly, which is a real blessing considering their essential omnipresence. Enthusiastically funny, rambunctiously fast-paced and occasionally genuine, I was surprised (and relieved) to see it’s still so good.