Netflix Monday: 'Staten Island Summer', a new comedy from Weekend Update's Colin Jost

Before Colin Jost’s screenwriting debut, Staten Island Summer, I primarily associated him as Seth Meyers’ bland-as-white-bread Weekend Update replacement on Saturday Night Live. In my mind’s eye, his personality is defined by what he lacks. He’s a bit of a void in the variety show’s machine — even though he's currently one of the head writers — and wields an unclear impact on the late-night program.

In a way, this R-rated comedy as his first sole writing credit makes quite a good deal of sense. It’s good-looking, occasionally charismatic and not without some merits, but often coasts by on what surrounds it instead of what’s at its center. Produced by Jost's boss Lorne Michaels under his Broadway Video banner, it's hard to deny its strong supporting cast — including current SNL members Bobby Moynihan, Cecily Strong, Kate McKinnon and Mike O’Brien, as well as former cast-mates Fred Armisen and Will Forte, the latter especially providing a fun extended cameo — and knows how to keep it light-but-extraneous enough for the humor to pop in choice moments. Having segment director Rhys Thomas make his feature directorial debut here also gives this a fine visual polish, letting the indie production holster the cinematic quality seen in recent digital shorts on the show of late but not in films of these caliber.

Often, though, these qualities overtake what Staten Island Summer is supposed to focus upon. And yet, they also never become captivating or distracting enough to take away from what doesn’t work in this aggressively mediocre film. It’s an entirely disjointed piece of work in the laugh department, trying to find itself just like its characters. Ultimately, though, the people on screen are meant to go on to do other, better things, and Thomas’ movie doesn’t’ have the time or availability to figure itself out, even when it begins to finds its sense of self way-too-late in the last half-hour.

The story is expectedly by-the-numbers, centering on the last days of summer for soon-to-be college student (of course…) Danny Campbell (Graham Phillips). He's going to Harvard (again, of course…), and must find a way to properly say goodbye to his childhood best friend (yep…) Frank Gomez (Zack Pearlman) who also lifeguards with him at their public Staten Island pool. The plot also hinges on how they and their slacker co-workers (Moynihan, Strong, John DeLuca) must outwit their nebbish, mustached, speedo-wearing boss (O’Brien) to throw their annual outlandish end-of-the-season ragger at their place of employment. In the process, Danny tries to win the affections of his crush Krystal (Ashley Greene) before he goes away (naturally…) and doing so without upsetting Leo (Vincent Pastore), her mafia boss dad (um… why not). This is without mentioning Danny’s overbearing parents (Jim Gaffigan, Kate Walsh) who — god forbid — wish to spend quality time with their son by going to Disney World before he's off-to-school. It combines a number of familiar story tropes, but never fruitfully or innovatively. Worst of all, however, the intended foundation of the story involving the relationship between the two lead best friends is often an afterthought unable to hold any water.

Jost’s screenplay habitually states the importance of things instead of showing them. Narration from Danny in the first act stresses upon his relationship with Frank, but their love for one another is never felt. This is because the movie only rarely finds the two of them beside one another, and they rarely even spend time together in the middle act. It kills any emotional investment, and it doesn’t help knowing their overarching plot heavily mimics recent comedies like The Way, Way Back and The To-Do List, to name a few. Staten Island Summer isn’t in the wrong for trying to captivate on something familiar, and it doesn’t pretend to be high-minded or original. The movie is supposed to touch upon youthful nostalgia and the tropes of sex comedies of the past. The problem is it doesn't do so in an organic manner.

Thomas’ movie also doesn’t definitively establish its sense of self, opting to pick-and-choose from different comic styles with intentions to create a little something for everyone. Occasionally this works to unexpected benefits (including one hilarious animation sequence induced by various prescription drugs and including Satan, his new spawn and Lego people), but often this just makes the comedy disjointed and as insecure as its young protagonists. It’s a shame, for it’s rather inspired near its lewd-and-crude ending and the cast does establish an underlying charm penetrated from genuinely having fun as real-life friends. It just lacks the heart and the wit to strive, and, even though it’s nice to see them enjoying themselves, the party vibes aren’t necessarily as contagious as Jost and Thomas would like.

Also, our lead — much like Jost on the tube Saturday nights — is 100% disinteresting. The character, and Phillips, never oozes any personality or presence whatsoever, flopping around while his peers take his film from under him. He dissolves a lot of the fun on screen, and truth be told it would have been more fun had Pearlman been in the role instead. His Frank is a completely unlikable stereotype of a sex-crazed best friend, but he stands out as effectively and naturally as he did on Michaels' other recent failure Mulaney. He gives his lines more punch and, though they don’t become any funnier, they certainly stand out better.

It’s futile to name all the standouts, but a few more come to mind. Gaffigan, for instance, is great even in his limited exposure, and believe it or not Method Man as the ice cream truck-driving drug dealer Konko continues defining an unexpected gracefulness for comedic timing and range. Though his recent credits include this and The Cobbler, when he gets time to shine he plays with his image well and, while he can’t necessarily chameleon into different roles, he’s always game to play ball with his cast members. The SNL vets also do expectedly admirable jobs at try mightily to keep this afloat like a flailing mid-episode skit, but Moynihan is the best of the bunch. His burnout stoner Skootch is performed with natural ease and fine attention to character growth. He’s the only one actor balancing the level of authenticity and raunchy subtext Staten Island Summer wants to straddle, and proves he’s meant for bigger-and-better parts. Everyone else, expectedly, tries to go one way or the other, and their uneven work makes the movie more lopsided by design.

It’s interesting to see this just one week after Wet Hot American Summer, a teenage sex romp also defined by other comedies but saved through its own tongue-in-cheek irreverence. Inside here is a better, sweeter movie unable to catapult itself free. The cast is there and the writing contains a couple amusing and half-amusing quips — some or almost all-of-them likely improvised, though — but rarely does it ever live up to its comedic or emotional potential. As if it needed to be said, Staten Island Summer is not — and will not — be for Jost what Mean Girls was for former head writer Tina Fey. Michaels’ latest production doesn’t quite ever fertilize its characters firmly or toy with the expectations of its familiar genre. It’s just another raunchy coming-of-age movie — not the worst one necessarily, but far from the best. In the line-up of recent comedies, it just sits in the middle, much like — you guessed it — Jost.