‘Top Five’ movie review: Chris Rock soars as director and star
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Version 0 of 1. A vibrant sense of possibility and joy propels “Top Five,” Chris Rock’s ode to romance, New York, artistic ideals and gutsy self-invention. As the portrait of a wildly popular comedian making a bid for critical acclaim and self- seriousness, Rock’s character, Andre Allen, bears more than a little resemblance to Michael Keaton’s erstwhile superhero in “Birdman.” And in many ways “Top Five,” which Rock wrote and directed, possesses the same freewheeling, restless energy, as Andre makes his way from Morningside Heights and the Upper West Side to Manhattan’s lower reaches, with a comely newspaper reporter (charmingly portrayed by Rosario Dawson) in tow. In the course of what seems to be the longest interview in movie-publicity history (not to mention the most unfettered access), Andre and the reporter, Chelsea Brown, cover his checkered life story, including a bout with alcoholism and a roaringly ribald episode in Houston when he hit rock bottom. They say hello to the family and friends he left behind in the housing projects, stop by Bulgari and Dolce & Gabbana, where Allen picks up accessories for his upcoming wedding to a reality TV star, and chat about everything from the buried racial messages in “Planet of the Apes” to whether Tupac Shakur would have lived to be a U.S. senator or a supporting character in a Tyler Perry movie. At every turn, Andre — who has just made “Uprize!,” an earnest historical drama about the slave rebellion in Haiti — is confronted with fans hailing him as his hated alter ego, a live-action cartoon figure called Hammy the Bear. As they get to know each other, Chelsea discloses her own personal details, one of which is reenacted in a grossly raunchy flashback worthy of Sacha Baron Cohen at his most flagrantly cringe-inducing. Fans of Rock won’t be surprised that “Top Five” gets down and extremely dirty: The sequence in Houston, which features a memorable turn from Cedric the Entertainer as a local fixer, ends on a sight gag that will leave the audience gasping. But as profane and over-the-top offensive as “Top Five” gets, Rock continually pulls it back from the brink, whether by way of sharply on-point political observation or his own infectiously sunny-sour disposition. Clearly inspired by such Woody Allen classics as “Stardust Memories,” as well as the “Before Sunrise” trilogy starring Julie Delpy (in whose charming romantic comedy “2 Days in New York” he co-starred), Rock seems clearly to have found his groove after the directorial missteps “Head of State” and “I Think I Love My Wife.” Admittedly, “Top Five” suffers from its share of too-convenient contrivances and clunky passages — a sequence featuring some top-line cameo appearances never really takes off, and it’s past time for Rock to retire the term “ho” when referring to women. But “Top Five” is also buoyantly self- sustaining, thanks in part to Rock and Dawson’s easy, convincingly seductive chemistry and some genuinely hilarious surprises, including another cameo, set in a jail cell, that simply must be witnessed to be believed. A preceding scene, in which Andre is casually kicked and punched by the cops arresting him, gives the film a potent, if entirely unintended, topicality. “Top Five” truly soars when Rock is interacting with his co-stars, who in addition to Dawson include J.B. Smoove as Andre’s loyal assistant, Kevin Hart as an epithet-slinging manager, Ben Vereen as a pivotal figure from his past and Tracy Morgan, Leslie Jones and Sherri Shepherd as friends from the old days. Shot with crystalline sharpness by Manuel Alberto Claro, “Top Five” has the bright, high-gloss feel of the most delicious wish-fulfillment fantasies, but it derives its spiky, propulsive energy from the adamantly forthright figure at its center. “Top Five” is just the kind of human-scaled work of alertness and loose, lived-in warmth that even Andre Allen would be proud of. ★ ★ ★ R. At area theaters. Contains strong sexual content, nudity, crude humor, profanity throughout and some drug use. 101 minutes. |