Even if you agree with the filmmakers (as I do) that Downey's target is the closed, obsessive world of actors, protests against his satirical use of a scornful word for retardation have an aesthetic point. If actors like Kirk Lazarus or Tugg Speedman ever had to confront a mentally challenged person or a true wartime enemy, Tropic Thunder would be a riskier and more resonant comedy. Within his showbiz-humor limits, though, Stiller proves to be a gutsy writer-director and performer. Tugg's desperate commitment to his part is one of the few things in the film that gets funnier as it goes along. Stiller may be erratic as a director (his last film was Zoolander, seven years ago), but he's also game.
He brings off at least one huge shocker of a laugh through killer timing. And when he frames a shot of a drug clan armed to the teeth as a feral 12-year-old (the amazing Brandon Soo Hoo) leads them into attack, Stiller displays a talent for goofy hyperbolic imagery reminiscent of vintage Mad magazines. At its best, Tropic Thunder wrings divine madness from wretched excess.
