THIS IS THE END (2013): Hollywood is Damned, Seth Rogen is Redeemed

Seth Rogen must have had the urge to take the easy way out with This is the End, his directorial debut with his partner Evan Goldberg.  It stars most of his friends and frequent collaborators--James Franco, Jay Baruchel, Jonah Hill, Craig Robinson, Danny McBride--and pretty much everyone in the movie plays himself or herself.  It must have been in danger of becoming a giant inside joke in which the cast has a lot more fun than the audience, like, say, the original Ocean's Eleven, or James Franco's gig as Oscar host.

This is the End is not that.  In fact, it's the opposite.  It's Rogen's best film to date, in front of or behind the camera, and it's an antithesis to much of what has been so off-putting about him so far, as an actor and a writer.  On his best day, he's endearing, as in the underrated Zack & Miri Make a Porno and Take This Waltz.  On his worst, he's irritating and self-serving, as in Superbad and The Green Hornet.  A movie in which he and his friends all play themselves and improvise much of their dialogue is in danger of becoming a self-indulgent bore.

That the movie avoids self-indulgence is only one of its victories.  This is the End is a brilliant piece of work.  Though much of the dialogue has a spontaneous feel, it's not merely a party for the cast; it's a real film, put together carefully and expertly by its directors.  If the cast and directors weren't working hard, it would be a disaster; because they take it seriously, it's hilarious and oddly moving.  As far as high-concept action-comedies go, it might be the best of its type since Ghostbusters.

Though each cast member plays a slightly removed or elevated version of his or her own public persona, they're not "playing themselves." The movie rightfully does the heavy lifting with its characters rather than depend on us to know the actors' pop culture identities.  Seth Rogen is Seth, hometown Canadian boy turned Hollywood superstar: once a regular guy, Seth has now been absorbed into the L.A. lifestyle.  His childhood friend Jay (Baruchel, his co-star on "Undeclared") is visiting him for the week, but shows little interest in hanging out with Seth's L.A. friends, most prominently James Franco, who's recently built a gaudy house in which to have gaudy Gatsby-like Hollywood parties.

In the early scenes each actor perfectly sets up his or her own facade that very thinly masks a superiority complex.  In the first scene we see Seth waiting at the airport, barely tolerating greetings from fans passing by.  Franco's smarmy attitude, labyrinthine house, lavish party and garishly awful art signifies an art student at his most pretentious.  Even Jay, who's not quite the celebrity that his friends are (though one reference is made to his very good performance in Million Dollar Baby), feels a constant false superiority to those around him.

Franco's party is an impressive creation, worthy of comparison to La Dolce Vita or Blake Edwards's The Party.  It paints a large, elaborate portrait of Hollywood debauchery, and features a gargantuan cast of celebrities showcasing their worst sides.  I won't reveal who appears, though Michael Cera's performance as a coke-addled misogynist in a tracksuit--the only character purposely developed to clash with the actor's real persona--is uproariously off-putting.

Once the party begins, something happens.  I won't say exactly what it is, but it involves explosions, the reduction of Los Angeles to a burning wasteland, a monster or two, and a group of celebrities (Rogen, Franco, and Baruchel, along with Jonah Hill, Craig Robinson, and Danny McBride) holed up inside Franco's house, awaiting help.  Help doesn't arrive, but a few other things do.

The celebrities' egos immediately clash with one another, which naturally makes it increasingly difficult for them to stay in the house together.  Hill in particular creates a terrifically phony personality; his obnoxiously fake niceness gives way to reveal a nasty person underneath, and his ultimate fate is just as deserved as it is unexpected.  McBride, playing a version of himself related to his "Eastbound & Down" character, is a purposely irritating and unwelcome presence, but is the only one who wears his obnoxiousness on his sleeve.

The key to the film's success is that it takes its horror-movie situation at face value.  Like Ghostbusters, it doesn't approach its apocalyptic scenario from a right angle, but accepts it and takes it seriously, and depends on its character work for laughs.  The hellscape that its Los Angeles gradually turns into is brilliantly realized by Rogen and Goldberg along with cinematographer Brandon Trost (who also shot the year's other descent into hell, Rob Zombie's The Lords of Salem).  And the movie surprisingly avoids ironic distance and nihilism, and presents us with an earnest and heartwarming conclusion... along with a surprise cameo appearance at its sendoff which I wouldn't dream of revealing here, but which strikes the perfect final note.

**** out of ****