James Roday- the guy from Psyche- is a very confident man. From lead actor to writer to director, it has proven effective to move fast, commit to the actions, and put logistics and methodology on the back burner- cooking pun #1 (sorry, there are going to be some)- trusting that what comes out of the moment will suffice. In other words, eat people first and ask questions later. And so it goes with “Gravy.” The dialog is thoughtful, comical, and quotable as hell. The acting is good when it’s supposed to be good. The gore is exuberant, albeit often reserved. But none of that can overpower the sour flavor- cooking pun #2- of a big, gaping void of a story. Roday welded himself into a corner when he made the setting a singular one and didn’t do himself any favors when he started groping around in the dark for aimless character development and plot obstacles, none of which found a destination. Which is okay! Please! Make a movie with one setting in which a bunch of people just try and kill each other! Make it with respectable effects and super-fun dialog! Lead with the ego, finish with the ego. But “Gravy” really started to sweat as it attempted to wind down. The confidence started to fade as the dialog became repetitive, the pace started to buckle, and the desperation for anything final left a rancid aftertaste- sorry, almost punned out- as “Gravy’s” shelf life well-overstayed its welcome- swear to God, last time. Okay, fuck you: Much like the titular substance, “Gravy,” left me filling overfull, yet unfulfilled. SHUT UP! I’M AN ADULT WRITER!
Review of this review: 2/5 for cheesy-ass wordplay
