Although it still only just gets away with sundry homophobic and size-ist gags, there's a tad more zing than the original, though if you caught that already, be warned: this is a scene-for-scene retread.
If for the most part Death at a Funeral is as tame as the tasteful parlor where most of its action takes place, it manages to explode one taboo, in casting mostly black actors in roles originally played by whites.
It's because of a superior cast that this version of Death at a Funeral is the rare comedy remake that's funnier than the original, however slightly. Personally, though, I'm not sure it was worth the effort.
It's logy, clumsy; instead of lifting the viewer up and carrying him or her on constant currents of escalating comic velocity, it lumbers from bit to bit, and the waits for funny stuff can seem endless.
Rock acquits himself nicely as the responsible brother and resident straight man, but everyone else in the cast has apparently been advised to mug shamelessly and yell their lines as loudly as possible, especially Tracy Morgan...
Nude, hallucinogen-fueled jaunts on rooftops, revelations about same-sex relationships -- with a little person, no less -- and individuals covered in feces are all executed with verve by the typically misanthropic Neil LaBute.