Making some vague attempt (Mel Brooks's movies are funnier) to be fair (so are the Zuckers') to Myers (or give it up to Peter Sellers) and his oeuvre (heck, just rent some Monkees videos), this third Austin Powers movie is about as funny as the first two, scoring laughs on about 60 percent of its attempts. The other bits range from saccharine preciousness to flat-out begging, but indeed, the majority of the chuckles arrive intact. This is no mean feat, considering that Myers's universe of humor is about as vast as his perineum. Pee, poop, more pee, bit of wind, lots more pee, nasty mockery of childbirth, and endless erectile gags. One knows better, but one laughs a bit.
If Myers's material hasn't changed much, he has become increasingly insistent in its delivery. On the surface, Goldmember is about the struggle of mojo-mad secret agent Powers (Myers) against effete archvillain Dr. Evil (Myers) and repulsive Fat Bastard (Myers), as well as the new, villainous, and tiresome Dutch caricature, Goldmember (Myers). The usual suspects also return in Mini Me (Verne Troyer), Scott Evil (Seth Green), Basil Exposition (Michael York), Number Two (Robert Wagner), and Frau Farbissina (Mindy Sterling). But regardless of the sketchy interactions comprising this sequel's "plot," director Jay Roach (the funnier Meet the Parents) reveals his prime directive: to keep the frame filled with Myers's grotesquely made-up mug, never mind the (oft-cited) bollocks.
Admittedly, Myers and coscreenwriter Michael McCullers (Undercover Brother) are clever enough to enhance the franchise formula this time around. Although journalists are instructed to "zip it" regarding the movie's utterly unsurprising plethora of celebrity guests -- I'm gonna leak one: Clint Howard has a cameo! -- it's the new characters who bring fresh air to all this flatulence. As Number Three -- a.k.a. "The Mole" -- Fred Savage (The Wonder Years) gives great poker face. In the "Powers girl" role this time around is Beyoncé Knowles of Destiny's Child -- not called upon to be particularly funny (her lines must have gone to Undercover Brother's Sistah Girl) but wonderfully engaging as Foxxy Cleopatra, Powers's 1975-based squeeze.
Hardly surprising, the best giggles come from veteran thesp Sir Michael Caine, who appears with great authority in the role of Powers's father, Nigel. The script harps a little too thuddingly on the popular absentee father schtick, but otherwise, Caine hasn't been this funny since Jaws: The Revenge. His jovially incomprehensible English English conversation with Austin is a scream, as is his elegant manner of dispatching one of Dr. Evil's disposable henchmen. Worth the price of admission.
All in all, you know exactly what you're going to get with this machine, which is a curse but probably for most a cheap blessing. Giggle at the farting submarine. Chortle at the Japanese caricatures. Wheeze at the little guy doing nasty things. The movie will leave you smiling forgetfully on the way out, and Myers will have done his job.
