Long before the dwarf arrives at the bar attired in a hippie wig and psychedelic garb, compares matching Chai pendants with the film's hero, then takes to the house-band stage and belts a blues number, The Identical has already scaled giddy heights of absurdity.
What starts as amateurish and heavy-handed regresses into unintentional self-parody so potent that had I been more confident of the like-minded crowd around me, I'd have had no qualms giggling like Porky Pig's Friar Tuck at the sight of Daffy Duck's soaking-wet Robin Hood. The Identical gives us what I'm sure even those of its faith never knew they wanted or needed: a celebration of Messianic Judaism delivered through a reinvention of the Elvis Presley legend. Presley's twin brother Jesse was stillborn before the future King thankyouverymuch'd his way into this world. In this re-imagining, a young couple in the Depression-era South inexplicably decide that their infant twins' mouths are one too many, so they gift one of them to a pastor and his wife, with the stipulation that they never tell their new son about his real origins until after the birth parents die. Apropos of nothing but a play for prayers, sympathy and plot, Preacher Wade (Ray Liotta!) went full TMI and let his flock know that he and his wife (Ashley Judd) are unable to conceive, and if you're thinking this sounds like we're treading into Raising Arizona territory, be advised that the film means this completely, stone-faced seriously.
After a brief acquaintance with the adolescent choir boy Ryan Wade and his new family, the film skips ahead 10 years to show him as a doe-eyed Elvis sorta-lookalike at the dawn of rock 'n' roll. Not only does he resemble the King, he sings like him. Or rather, he sings like his own twin brother, Drexel "The Dream" Hemsley, who has become a teen idol but isn't compared to Elvis even though the film confirms both exist. (Blake Rayne, the actor who plays the adult Ryan, is an Elvis impersonator.)
Everybody with two working eyes addresses Ryan with sentences that begin with, "Hey, you look just like Drexel!" Preacher Wade sees Ryan following in his own footsteps to the pulpit, but our high-pompadoured hero doesn't hear the calling. He just wants to play his guitar and sing, and the filmmakers want so badly for him and his twin to do the same that they craft a double-album's worth of awful, ersatz period tunes. Beyond its treacly sentimentality, and the pro-Israel propaganda that keeps surfacing, The Identical is an aural assault of songs about (if memory serves): be-boppin' babies, boogie-woogie rock 'n' roll, city lights that keep on shinin', and lovelorn saps who miss their one true love in their dreams. (Does this mean they don't miss them once they wake up?)
On the road to Success, Ryan is invited to City of Peace Records to potentially sign a contract. It's a jarring bit of movie meta, as the real City of Peace Films, a family affair with a religious mission, is responsible for The Identical. Its founder, Yochanan Marcellino, is the father of the movie's director, Dustin. Press materials note that Yochanan and his father Jerry wrote the movie's 20-plus songs (though we hear only about 30 seconds of each at a time, they pop up over and over). Those songs are frequently presented in environments so ridiculous you have to wonder if the filmmakers realized how highly they were risking comparison to Walk Hard: The Dewey Cox Story. Ryan serenades his bride-to-be outside her bedroom window; a cliche, to be sure, but not necessarily self-parody — unless, as Ryan does, you bring along the garage mechanic played by Joe Pantoliano as your backup singer. The one scene of Ryan as an Army soldier shows him entertaining his buddies from the top of a transport truck in a motor pool until a barking sergeant scares them into formation — and then requests a little more music.
Ryan feels such a deep connection with Drexel (though unable to do the math as to why they look exactly alike), he's only too happy to take on a career as a contemporaneous tribute act (nevermind that it's unlikely The Dream's managers would allow this). Ryan hits the state fair circuit like it's a Dream come true, backed by a band the includes Seth Green, whose terrible performance comes across as practice for the Robot Chicken version of The Identical. Rayne also plays Drexel, but the character is little more than a specter that only occasionally shows up, and is always hidden behind oversized sunglasses. One of his few lines is "There's your winner," when Ryan competes in a Drexel sound-alike contest.
Though it clocks in at less than an hour and 40 minutes, The Identical is so aimless it would be tedious were it not for the ridiculousness of its journey into a circus act of bad hairstyles, worse songs and a nonstop parade of loving gazes at Ryan. The Identical wants to be an inspiration, but it's far too cornball, contrived and incompetent in its construction and reach for pathos and uplift. But in a Mystery Science Theater 3000 way, it may be one of the funniest movies of the year.
1.5 out of 5 stars
Rated PG. Directed by Dustin Marcellino. Starring Blake Rayne, Ray Liotta, Ashley Judd. Now playing.