Rule number one of improv: “Yes, and …”
When improvising on the spot, Kat tells her improv class that it’s important to accept what your improv partner gives you and to run with it. In that way, they’ll make their performance all the more believable.
For example, if I tell you that Kat is a struggling improv teacher, you might respond, “Yes, and she’s desperate to earn a few bucks to finance the next rewrite of her one-woman show.”
Or if I tell you that her student Marlon is a down-on-his-luck actor, you might say, “Yes, and that’s because he’s obsessed with playing the part of the wistful, gritty action hero—even if the role doesn’t require it.”
Maybe I’d say that Hugh is an awkward tech guy who recently joined the improv class. “And … he did so to improve his conversational skills at work,” you might add.
And maybe I’d tell you that they are approached by a police detective who’d like to hire them to use their improv skills for low-level sting operations. They’d go into a store, pretending to be clients looking to buy counterfeit cigarettes and, when the clerk complies, they’d give the police the evidence they need to bust the supplier.
“Yes, and when they do, they somehow bumble into the United Kingdom’s biggest criminal drug syndicate. They’re forced to use their limited improv skills to blend in as fellow suppliers until they have enough evidence to bust the big operation and escape with their lives.”
Whoa. You may have escalated my prompt a bit too far. But if I told you “No,” I’d be breaking the first rule of improv.
So, let’s see how this story turns out.
We can give our three improv actors a bit of credit for agreeing to participate with police to bust drug dealers.
At least one criminal balks when he’s asked to do something that goes against his conscience—and he ultimately chooses to put his life on the line to do the right thing. Others risk their lives to save a man after he helps them.
None.
At a party, a woman dances around a pole in revealing lingerie. Hugh and a woman kiss on a bed, intent on going further. However, just as they’re about to do that, they’re interrupted. We see a dead male body in a shirt and underwear. Marlon auditions for a commercial that’s promoting pills for erectile dysfunction.
A woman laments having to have sex with her husband: “Hence this nightmare,” she says, pointing to her pregnant belly. Someone makes a joke about foreplay. Another crude gag references the size of a guy’s anatomy.
We see a few people shot and killed, and there’s a bit of blood spray from their mortal wounds. Others engage in a gunfight; it’s unclear if anyone is killed. Someone dies after being hit by a car.
The trio uses a chainsaw to chop a body into pieces. We don’t see the gruesome procedure, but we hear the noises and see some blood coat their clothes. Later, a dog attempts to force its way into the garbage bag containing the human remains.
A woman uses a machete to make a small cut on a man’s cheek—and her underlings attempt to slice at others, too. Kat knocks a man unconscious by smacking him with a variety of computer parts. Marlon is choked unconscious.
A man threatens to use a hot iron on another man’s genitals. He also says that he’ll take someone’s tongue out of their head. Another person gets beaten. A man survives a car accident. We’re told that someone operates a crime syndicate that includes human trafficking. There’s a story about drowning rats.
We hear the f-word over 100 times, including one paired with “mother.” We also hear the s-word roughly 40 times and the c-word once. “A–,” “b–ch,” “b–tard,” “h—,” “d-ck” and “pr-ck” are all used, too. God’s name is used in vain 10 times. Jesus’ name is likewise misused 12 times.
Our three characters find themselves in the middle of a drug ring. To that end, they’re tasked with buying and selling cocaine. Hugh must snort a few lines of the stuff in order to prove he is who he claims to be. We hear other conversations about dealing illicit drugs. A man offers to sell Kat marijuana.
People drink a variety of liquor, wine and beer, and they become inebriated. They also ingest a pills as they party. Characters smoke cigarettes. Criminals sell counterfeit cigarettes filled with “cheap nasties.” A man vapes. Kat pretends to be addicted to a various drugs and alcohol during an intervention in order to distract the crowd’s attention away from Marlon, who is busy stealing a car.
Hugh vomits. Marlon steals a car.
Like that first rule of improv, it seems when Deep Cover was made, “Yes, and …” was at the forefront of its creation.
That statement describes the cast: This straight-to-streaming movie features a surprising stack of recognizable names, including Bryce Dallas Howard, Orlando Bloom, Nick Mohammed, Ian McShane and Sean Bean.
It describes the plot, which grows increasingly more ludicrous as things chug along. We hear plenty of jokes, and some of them even land.
But that rule also describes the movie’s content issues: There’s more than enough violence, sexual innuendo, drugs and language. Granted, many of these issues aren’t as gratuitous as they could be—we’ve seen far more blood, sex and drugs in shows like Breaking Bad and Ozark. Still, they’re gratuitous enough to merit a lot of caution.
That said, the word “gratuitous” definitely describes the quantity of harsh language we hear: more than 100 uses of the f-word alone indicate that “improv” isn’t exactly the guiding principle of the film’s script.
Deep Cover delivers a comedy about all of the issues that come with a drug syndicate … and those are the reasons why you’ll probably want to avoid it.
Kennedy Unthank studied journalism at the University of Missouri. He knew he wanted to write for a living when he won a contest for “best fantasy story” while in the 4th grade. What he didn’t know at the time, however, was that he was the only person to submit a story. Regardless, the seed was planted. Kennedy collects and plays board games in his free time, and he loves to talk about biblical apologetics. He’s also an avid cook. He thinks the ending of Lost “wasn’t that bad.”
