By Eric Kohn

Run, Fat Boy, Run
Directed by David Schwimmer


Even Simon Pegg has repeatedly underutilized the distinct comedic appeal of Simon Pegg. Run, Fat Boy, Run, the directorial debut of David Schwimmer—inextricably identifiable as Ross from “Friends”—gives Pegg a screenplay credit, suggesting that he has written to his weaknesses. In both Shaun of the Dead and Hot Fuzz, Edgar Wright’s sly genre deconstructions, Pegg mimics the audience’s thrill of being adrift in fantastical conflict with wide-eyed incredulousness and a goofy demeanor. Akin to the underdog appeal of slapstick artists like Buster Keaton, the pathetic nature of Pegg’s characters hardens into a heroic streak. In Fat Boy, playing an out-of-shape security guard who runs a marathon to prove his worthiness to an ex-girlfriend, Pegg just seems pathetic.

He’s not the only performer above the material. As the new boyfriend to Pegg’s former flame, Hank Azaria is strangely muted. That probably took some effort: The guy responsible for some of the best voice acting on “The Simpsons” demonstrated an equally competent flair for dramatic rhythms on Showtime’s short-lived “Huff.” So, playing a one-note asshole businessman is somewhat beyond (or below) his range.

But there they are, Pegg and Azaria, jolting along the hustle of a London marathon, competing for female companionship in the film’s uninspired conclusive sequence. Azaria, whose character’s athletic competence is contrasted with Pegg’s physical ineptitude, hurls the titular insult at his foe, which draws attention to a couple of problems at once: Pegg isn’t fat, and the quip isn’t funny. 

Schwimmer’s fairly straightforward direction occasionally gives the material its proper due. The opening sequence really pulls you in: Pegg gets cold feet on his wedding day and escapes out the window. Fleeing down the street with a look of sheer horror on his face, Pegg is a hilarious construction: He scurries away from his problems like a frightened rodent. Yet this defining moment gets very few complementary sequences; the script wastes time with sophomoric toilet humor and other cheap jokes, rather than capitalizing on Pegg’s specific appeal. The movie’s best moment comes way too late in the game, when the character imagines a panel of bricks to signify that he’s “hit a wall.” It’s a sloppy literal metaphor nearly kooky enough to work—but the movie has hit its own wall long before then.

Pegg’s humor is accessible on many levels, but it’s certainly not mainstream. I don’t think he can fit into any given project on the merits of his performative skills. Run, Fat Boy, Run shows that Simon Pegg can’t rescue a derivative dud. His upcoming role as a young Scotty in J.J. Abrams’ impending Star Trek prequel will tell us if he can embody referents, not simply mock them.