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Griffin's 'Family' spreads the love when it comes to offenses
Eddie Griffin stars in the concert film 'Dysfunktional Family'
Miramax Films
Michael Machosky can be reached via e-mail or at 412-320-7901.
"Dysfunktional Family" is a concert film starring Eddie Griffin at a packed, raucous theater in his hometown of Kansas City, intercut with scenes of Griffin visiting his old, rough neighborhood - and old, rough family.
Griffin isn't quite at the level of his obvious heroes yet (Richard Pryor and Redd Foxx), but "Dysfunktional Family" is a pretty good place to start. He's best known for a bunch of small roles in (mostly bad) comedies, but "Undercover Brother" was his breakthrough - honing his superfly '70s Shaft-alike character, who funks up The Man's vast conspiracy to keep black people down. Griffin's goofy charisma was enough to squeeze a lot of laughs out of a basically one-joke movie, sending up the quirks of white and black people, and deftly poking fun at the stupid things that still keep them apart.
Griffin is distinct from the "Original Kings of Comedy" crew - the Spike Lee concert film that helped break Bernie Mac, Steve Harvey and Cedric the Entertainer to mainstream audiences - in that he has strong physical-comedy talents in addition to the requisite bad attitude and array of characters. Unlike his heftier peers, the twitchy, wiry Griffin can really dance, which makes the inevitable Michael Jackson and Sammy Davis Jr. bits seem more kinetic and fun than forced.
In "Family," Griffin gets the usual mileage out of the eternal query, "Don't white people talk/walk/act funny?" and the camera pans to the mostly black audience, who are nearly rolling in the aisles. But then he flashes that huge, impossibly bright grin - imagine a cross between Gene Kelly's smile and a thousand-watt searchlight - and you know he's "just playin' wit' you."
Let's just say that everybody, regardless of their race, gender or sexual orientation, takes a turn at getting skewered. And all of Griffin's routines are enveloped in the thick, profane patois of streetwise, urban speech - which, in Griffin's case, involves throwing various conjugations of a certain four-letter verb into every sentence.
Some of his best bits come early and breach the once-taboo subject of 9/11. Griffin amusingly relates how racism was magically suspended for awhile - the white people who would normally avoid and/or eye him with suspicion were suddenly coming up to him and asking him if he'd be ready to fight any hijackers.
Quirky, sitcom-like families are really a dime-a-dozen now - but Griffin's relations are clearly twisted much farther than is necessary for comic effect. One uncle is a self-styled porn star, with a "portfolio" of work that he thinks will be his sure ticket to Hollywood. Another uncle - the one who encouraged young Griffin's performing instincts - is an ex-pimp, crackhead and general reprobate who has turned his life around, and has the harrowing stories to prove it.
I'm not offended by much, but even I had to cringe a few times, such as when he praises his mother for beating him so much when he was a kid that it kept him out of the penitentiary. When he recommends that everyone whip their kids now and then, it's funny, but one hopes he's just joking. The camera cuts to his mother, who nods approvingly. I don't think she's joking.
