AVClub: In Spanish director Álex De La Iglesia’s My Big Night, the advance taping of a New Year’s Eve special turns into a manic farce of schlubs and monsters, professional one-upmanship and assassination. Steadicam shots crisscross the studio space, fluidly switching direction to track characters and subplots-in-progress—but lest De La Iglesia’s typical confidence with the camera imply something highfalutin is afoot, let it be known that these subplots mostly involve stolen semen and that, occasionally, the gliding camera will dip just in time to catch a character hitting his head on a stuffed giraffe’s penis. Grotesque and often gruesome, De La Iglesia’s films sympathize with freaks and weirdos while painting the world as a carnival sideshow where everybody is worth mocking, even if they’re too vain to know it. More often than not, they end with falling apart or going up in flames or both, but My Big Night, pitched in a state of perpetual frenzy, whiffs out in its ending.
We Got This Covered
Compared to their American equivalents, Spanish imports rock a vibe that can’t be duplicated. Just check any of Telemundo’s saucy daytime dramas versus our straight-faced network soap operas, and you’ll be treated to silliness abound. But that’s on a nationally televised level – graduate to big-budget theatrics, and we’re talking productions that are nuttier than a Payday bar (or whatever your favorite peanut-laced treat is).
