That’s right, dance number. As performed by one of the “actors” I hate more than any other—Tom Cruise. He’s 2% forgiven for all the other crap he’s perpetrated on us over the years.

But there’s more! Robert Downey Jr. blew me away AGAIN on many many levels. There’s his dead-on take-down of Russel Crowe. There’s his delivery of completely off-the-wall lines “you’re shredded like a julienne salad!”. There’s his ridiculous send-up of token African American character sterotypes.

Normally I’m entirely allergic to Ben Stiller but the movie did a fine job of insulating me from him, with lots of great distractions like the aforementioned dance number, Jack Black’s ridiculous capering as a junkie in withdrawal, and Nick Nolte doing a wicked self-parody.

Lots of sly little nods to Apocaplypse now, as you might expect, but also digs at lots of other movies via the mock
previews at the beginning of the movie, which were almost too ridiculous to be borne. Again, worth at least your matinee dollar for those alone.

My one real quibble? Not enough Steve Coogan. Ever since the brilliant “Tristram Shandy: A Cock and Bull Story” I’ve been a huge fan, and was hoping to see a lot more of him here.

But it all comes back around to the dance number, which made me twitter on coming out of the theater: Tropic Thunder = As wrong as Borat. And I laughed just as hard.