Carbon Fiber versus Carbon Neutral: The meaning of our stuff, action shooting, and hot chicken

Jungle boogie. In the decade since he became a household name Ben Stiller has drifted primarily towards two comfortably generic personas: the tightly-wound, put-upon Everyman (see: Meet the Parents, Night at the Museum) and the preening buffoon (see: Zoolander, Starsky & Hutch). All the world loves a clown, and Stiller has been content to be one, nuance be damned.

Tropic Thunder, however, finds Stiller as star, co-writer and director attempting a skewering of Hollywood - a genre that requires a scalpel, where he favors blunt instruments. The set-up casts Stiller in buffoon mode as Tugg Speedman, an action-film star whose box-office clout is running out of steam and whose attempt at "serious actor" respectability playing mentally-challenged in Simple Jack flopped miserably. He's leading the ensemble in a Vietnam War drama titled Tropic Thunder, along with co-stars — including multi-Oscar winner Kirk Lazarus (Robert Downey, Jr.), a Method maniac who had his pigment altered to play an African-American soldier; and heroin-addicted comedy actor Jeff Portnoy (Jack Black) — who are causing just as much trouble for rookie director Damien Cockburn (Steve Coogan). So Cockburn and the movie's grizzled technical advisor (Nick Nolte) decide to drop the actors into the jungle for a more guerilla-style filming technique — where they promptly encounter real danger in the form of a well-armed drug operation.

The opening 10 minutes hold out the promise of one of the year's most hilarious comedies, including a trio of faux movie trailers introducing the preferred milieu for each of the three principal actors. Lazarus and Tobey Maguire make cow eyes at each other as closeted gay monks in Satan's Abbey; Portnoy plays multiple flatulent, fat-suited characters in a vicious swipe at Eddie Murphy. Even the early moments of over-the-top violence from the movie-within-the-movie — a bayonet-slashed private (Jay Baruchel) tries to gather his intestines, and Speedman's character goes down in a hail of Platoon-inspired gunfire — are funny in context. Give Stiller a full-length feature of cinematic parody sketches, and it'd kill.

Truth is, we ran out of waterboards. The Apatow comedy train chugs along with a new installment, Pineapple Express.

You cannot get more of a skeletal plot here. Dale Denton (Seth Rogen), a 26-year-old process server with an inexplicable high school girlfriend, witnesses a murder while on the job and exits the scene leaving a roach of Pineapple Express, the ultimate killer weed. Turns out his subpoena target is the dealer that supplies his connection, Saul (James Franco). Soon they're on the run from cops, drug crime warlords, evil Asians, and whoever else crosses their path. Almost all the dialogue seemed or was ad-libbed, reminiscent of "Curb Your Enthusiasm," but lacking Larry David's Seinfeld-esque plot twists.

I have to admit there are some redeemable qualities James Franco was excellent as the weeded-out dumber-than-dirt dope dealer. As of late, Franco seems typecast to play the guy possessed with angst and inner turmoil in most of his characters (Spiderman, Annapolis) in contrast to his slacker role on Apatow's late 1990s television gem Freaks and Geeks. It was refreshing to see him in this role of weed-soaked, dim-witted, likable, grinning idiot-it was almost like getting to know Brad Pitt's character from True Romance. And Danny McBride (Fist Foot Way) as Red, the middle-man drug connection, steals the show playing part tough guy drug dealer part wimp-ass squealer.