Pineapple Express

In theory, Pineapple Express is really two movies working against each other. On the one hand, this ferociously raunchy stoner movie fits right into the new commercial paradigm for Hollywood comedies set forth by the prolific comedy club orchestrated by Judd Apatow, who serves as producer. Presumably coming from the other end of the tonal spectrum, director David Gordon Green has developed his independent film pedigree with the quietly mournful tenor of fragile humanity. From his acclaimed debut, George Washington, all the way through this year's Snow Angels, Green has crafted astute depictions of loneliness and personal sacrifice. The prospects of his sensibilities getting applied to a loopy story about two bumbling stoners (Seth Rogen and James Franco) on the lam from gun-toting drug lords suggests a clash of styles. As it turns out, however, Green has been keeping his funny bone on reserve until now; finally unleashed, it simply adjusts to the status quo. This isn't proof that a sharply observant filmmaker has sold out, but evidence that he's adroit at fitting in.

Scripted by Rogen with his writing partner Evan Goldberg, Pineapple Express pretty much fulfills one expectation after another. Following in step with Knocked Up and Superbad, it offers up two white boys in slapdash conflict while wrestling with their sophomoric behavior. Although the movie combines its occasionally incisive wit with a few jolts from car chases and shoot-'em-up spectacles, it's essentially focused on two dudes and their shared desire to toke up.

The plight of carefree Dale (Rogen), an obnoxious schlub who served subpoenas in between joints and trysts with his underage girlfriend, has a cheerful simplicity to it, even when the story goes dark. Shortly after purchasing the titular weed strain from the dopily energetic Saul (Franco), Dale accidentally witnesses a murder at the hands of criminal powerhouse Ted Jones (Gary Cole) and his lover, corrupt cop Carol (Rosie Perez). While those two are left with little to do, Pineapple Express maintains its momentum thanks to the rest of its spirited cast. Up-and-comer Danny McBride completes the comedy trifecta as Saul's unreliable pal Red, and Craig Robinson (Darryl on NBC's The Office) has a few swiftly funny moments as an emotionally unstable hit man. Pineapple Express never achieves greatness, but it has the right people in place to suggest the greatness that might have been.

The movie isn't a relative of the Harold and Kumar movies, but a sarcastic cousin of Gregg Araki's woefully underseen Smiley Face. Like Green, Araki transitioned from brooding dramatic work to the realm of blithe R-rated stoner comedies by going invisible. A farce about getting high with little to say, Green's first studio achievement shows that he can melt into the material rather than dominate it. He enforces a flow to the dialogue that gives it an adorable silliness, but the goofy rush departs with the credits, leaving the director's devout base with the munchies for something more substantive.