When the puppet cast of an '80s children's TV show begin to get murdered one by one, a disgraced LAPD detective-turned-private eye puppet takes on the case.
A few critics are calling it the worst movie of the year. Unfair! This R-rated look at a serial killer running wild in a puppet-populated L.A., has what it takes to be a contender for worst of the decade.
Thanks must go to the underpaid puppeteers who crouched, ducked and manoeuvred all over Happytime's set, only for their physical labour to be used in service of a Sesame Street-meets-Bright mess.
I've been on "Sesame Street." I know Elmo. Cookie Monster is a friend of mine. "Happytime Murders," you're no "Sesame Street" . . . and you're not "Avenue Q" either.
Comedies this broad come down to percentage games and (in what has become a ritual for me, alas), I estimate less than 10 percent of screenwriter Todd Berger's jokes land.
The Happytime Murders takes its great premise and plays it so safe it becomes dull. Meet The Feebles, Team America and Roger Rabbit did all this before, and did it better.
This premise holds some promise, but The Happytime Murders is a joyless, soulless slog, wasting the efforts of co-stars Melissa McCarthy and Elizabeth Banks. (Only Maya Rudolph, playing Phil's ditzy but puppet-tolerant secretary Bubbles, escapes pity.)