Shane Black wrote the original Lethal Weapon, wrote and directed Kiss Kiss Bang Bang, and did the same with Iron Man 3. If you’re into his schtick–which basically is cheeky noir takes on buddy-cop pulp with sharp dialogue, gunfighting, world-wise kids, and slapstick–you’ll dig The Nice Guys.

Russell Crowe (who’s looking a tad Goodman-esque here, to be frank) plays an LA tough guy who roughs up schmucks for a living. Ryan Gosling is a private eye, an habitual drunk and liar, and single parent to an oh-so-precocious and streetwise tween daughter. These good-hearted not-so-nice guys inhabit a particularly seedy 1977 Los Angeles–one that’s all porn shoots, adult stores, greasy stubble, dive bars, and heavy Detroit iron rolling their tall sidewalls with wailing tail-slides. Crowe and Gosling are paired up to search for a missing adult film actress who may or may not be related to a Justice Department heavy (a peculiarly un-aging Kim Basinger). It’s very much a period piece and it’s very nearly the B movie it tries to be.

Problem is, clever banter and a convoluted plot both price it out of true B-movie land, leaving it–where? It’s not serious enough to be truly meaningful; there’s an awful lot of crashing through windows and shoulder holsters and falling onto cars and other seventies fare. It’s a fun night at the movies, and not a whole lot more.

But I think that’s the point. Through all this, I get the distinct sense Black set out to make a period piece, and then cooked up some plot points that fit the seventies–not the other way around. The Nice Guys has solid laughs and great visuals. The story is memorable, if ultimately silly. And critically, Crowe and Gosling really nail this mustachioed thing, hitting the perfect balance of levity and grit. (Crowe is even-keeled, but Gosling shrieks and cringes his way to a legitimately enjoyable performance.) I get the sense that Shane Black knew just what he was doing here. On that score, he succeeded.

Haus Verdict: The Nice Guys is Kiss Kiss Bang Bang with a Hey Girl, a Maximus, and an Anchorman aesthetic. Be warned–then, you know, go see it.

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