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As memorably proposed in “Spinal Tap,” whose techniques and spirit are much in evidence here, there is a fine line between stupid and clever, a line that “Tour de Pharmacy” happily smudges until two become indistinguishable; it feels enlightened and idiotic at once. It’s the sort of comedy that makes room for a parody of French New Wave film and for explicit penis jokes, for dialect humor (Lundgren’s identical pronunciation of “cheetah” and “cheater” is the basis of one bit) and a cartoon about red blood cells that ends in a corpuscular race riot. Small motifs are recycled from “7 Days”: revealing menswear, parodies of Scandinavian media, debt as motivation.
It’s a sketch, essentially, effectively blown out to 40 minutes — not too short, not too long. Apart from the generally good jokes and the amusing imitations of period style, what makes “Tour de Pharmacy” good company is the overarching sense of play.
That describes a lot of modern comedy, for better or worse, the sense that the players are on board primarily for the good time and camaraderie as much as for the material or the paycheck. It’s a feeling the modesty of this production only enhances.
“Tour de Pharmacy″ is a tour de farce of bad taste, unsophisticated humor, brief nudity, and absolutely no redeeming values at all except that it’s really funny — and, oh, so badly needed right about now.
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