Four Lions

The basic weak link in this spasmodically funny suicide-bomber farce is that it is lopsidedly more outrageous than outraged. Director-writer Christopher Morris turns the plotting and execution of jihadist terrorism by a group of British Muslim extremists into a slapstick mash-up of ideology and lunacy as the story moves from northern England to a Pakistani training camp to an attack during a London marathon. The film conjures forth a cell of inept and delusional wannabe martyrs (five to be exact) in waves of knucklehead dialogue (“I think I’m confused, but I’m not sure.”) and Three Stooges antics (one jihadi is talked into punching himself in the face, another cannot tell the difference between a rabbit and a chicken). Flashes of comic brilliance light the path here, but hilarity awkwardly collides with horror as the wildly painted clown faces of fanaticism finally co-mingle with their innocent potential victims.