‘The Shitheads’ Review: Dave Franco and O’Shea Jackson Jr. are Losers on a Mission in a Broad Comedy Tinged with Viciousness

Up to that point, this road movie involving two down-on-their-luck screw-ups hired to drive a rich teenager to rehab feels reminiscent of the bromantic, drug-laced, gross-out comedies of the 2000s and early 2010s, some of which starred James Franco (“Pineapple Express,” “This is the End”). His still bankable younger brother, Dave, stars here as Mark, a foul-mouthed loser who thinks too much of himself while actively hitting rock bottom. The other half of this amateurish operation, Davis (O’Shea Jackson Jr.), is a devout Christian whose search for validation costs him a job tied to his faith. The pair desperately needs things to go smoothly. They certainly won’t.

Their precious cargo, Sheridan (Mason Thames), first comes off as a typically defiant adolescent before he feigns vulnerability to gain his guardians’ trust. But after the aforementioned, unexpected misconduct, this boy on the cusp of adulthood reveals himself to be a menace with no moral compass, who rejoices in using and belittling others.

When Mark and Davis realize who they are facing, their initial disdain for each other turns into a life-saving alliance. Played by Thames with an irritating smirk that tests his caretakers’ patience, Sheridan has attained fame for all the wrong reasons. He behaves like someone who knows that money will save him from any consequence, no matter his actions. And it’s exactly that immunity that attracts people of all ages — as his online following attests.

That Blair opens the film with a comic scene revolving around Lars von Trier’s “Antichrist” deserves commendation. It’s a cinephile-friendly reference that general viewers might not fully grasp but immediately announces the offbeat wavelength of the story at hand. “The Shitheads,” however, is best described as a broad comedy that occasionally veers into viciousness — as opposed to Blair’s previous films (including 2017 Sundance winner “I Don’t Feel at Home in This World Anymore”), where seriousness is the dominant tone with splashes of dark humor.

The measurements in that blend for “The Shitheads” are a bit off, however, making for a jarring viewing experience with laugh-out-loud moments that will likely shock and resonate with audiences, and tense dramatic situations that pull the characters from larger-than-life escapades right into the gutter of despair, as they confront the possibility of death. Sure, the case can be made for this contrast between scatological humor and serious insight working as a mirror for how quickly a person’s reality can shift from joy to sorrow, but the overall effect is puzzling. That said, the film’s commercial prospects seem high, considering the palatable edginess on display and the names involved.

One low point comes when a pack of rogue criminals in a van intercepts Mark and Davis’ vehicle to “rescue” Sheridan, after the latter sends out an S.O.S. on social media claiming he’s been kidnapped. This particular set of “wild” cartoonish characters, salivating for a monetary reward, feels nonsensical even within the context of this absurdist narrative. Peter Dinklage’s appearance as the ringleader is more a forgettable cameo than a notable role, while Nicholas Braun as an aspiring rapper enamored of Sheridan’s public persona is a bad cliché rather than a smart parody.

Conversely, a refreshing spin on the now commonplace bad-drug-trip sequence in comedies of this type features Jackson Jr. reinterpreting the hallucinations as a spiritual epiphany: Davis thinks he’s spoken to God. The actor’s performance helps ground some the emotional swings, given that pathos and comedy often inhabit his scenes simultaneously.

Through it all, as physical altercations escalate thanks to Sheridan’s malice, Blair is determined not to disclose or discuss how any of the many working-class characters that populate “The Shitheads,’ Davis and Mark included, ended up in their current circumstances. Among them is a singer (Kiernan Shipka) making a living as an exotic dancer, who, after becoming Sheridan’s victim, joins them in their battle to rein in the young deviant. There’s also the hotel clerk who Davis feels guilty about upsetting, and a homeless person whose resentment towards Sheridan can’t be defused with cash.

By not making the viewer privy to what caused each of them to fall on hard times, the filmmaker signals that anybody, no matter their attributes or intentions, can make a wrong turn and feel trapped, while someone like Sheridan gets to coast without having earned it. Under such an unfair system, the only choice is to concentrate on what’s in one’s control. Yet instead of exploring that socially conscious subtext digging into his characters’ past, Blair forces them into a proactive approach, imagining how these average people pushed to their limit will survive his brutal antics.