The Tomatometer rating – based on the published opinions of hundreds of film and television critics – is a trusted measurement of movie and TV programming quality for millions of moviegoers. It represents the percentage of professional critic reviews that are positive for a given film or television show.
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The Tomatometer is 60% or higher.
The Tomatometer is 59% or lower.
Movies and TV shows are Certified Fresh with a steady Tomatometer of 75% or higher after a set amount of reviews (80 for wide-release movies, 40 for limited-release movies, 20 for TV shows), including 5 reviews from Top Critics.
Percentage of users who rate a movie or TV show positively.
As a low-budget independent not necessarily intended for a broad audience, Casa doesn't have to bow to the middle-of-the-road multiplex appeal that handcuffs many SNL-pedigreed films. That works to the film's great benefit.
I tend to be amused by Ferrell in most circumstances, and the things I like about him - his bizarre sensibilities hidden beneath a mainstream exterior, his unwavering sincerity regardless of his characters' absurdity - are on display here.
Ferrell, as he's done in Anchorman, Talladega Nights and Step Brothers, walks undaunted through the amiable absurdity, delivering his not-exactly-mellifluous espaņol in earnest flurries, as the dialogue, and the bullets, fly.
Director Matt Piedmont and writer Andrew Steele, veterans of Ferrell and McKay's Funny or Die web site, lack the cinematic chops to mount a big-screen tribute to the genre, but there are some amusing bits.
Ferrell is a good straight actor for the same reason that he's an inspired comedian: He commits himself to every moment. Even in a movie whose highest ambition is to be true to its quaintly delectable tackiness.
If you pray at the Jodorowskian altar of such things (equal parts spurting blood and flared nostrils), then there will be a modicum of satisfaction, perhaps enough to stave off the suspicion that the film should have been an SNL skit, nothing more.
Casa de Mi Padre riffs freely on impoverished production values -- phony painted backdrops and the reflection of the camera crew in a DEA agent's sunglasses -- but the humor doesn't only target south of the border.
A movie of this sort could easily wear out its welcome early. Yet Ferrell and company transform the one joke concept into a surprisingly subtle train of gentle jabs at an entire defunct school of filmmaking.