Identity Thief” looked promising, but looks can be deceiving. Family man and financial officer Sandy Patterson (Jason Bateman) has not only become victim to a stolen identity, but his boss and terrible friend Casey (played by the clearly much younger John Cho) has no understanding whatsoever for this very common, very real crime. He gives Sandy a week to prove that he is not purchasing jet-skis and missing court dates in Florida. Sandy then makes the kind of decision only permissible in comedy movies and resolves to travel across the country to wrangle a potentially dangerous criminal and drag her back to Denver. After he convinces the identity thief to come with him, he realizes that they cannot get on a plane while sharing the same name and they are forced to make a longer, much more hilarious trip back home.
“Identity Thief” is a road-trip comedy that had the guts to go to new places but fell disappointedly short of its potential.
As Diana the identity thief, Melissa McCarthy is not only the driving force of most of the film’s big laughs, but a beauty as well. Diana’s metallic makeup and bright outfits are an extension of her bubbly personality. She is a thief and an unscrupulous spender, but she comes across as charming and resourceful — especially next to Sandy, who assumes the role of the uptight, average Joe. Moreover, Diana is not shy about expressing her healthy sexual appetite. This made for some raunchy moments, but it was a progressive change from her role in “Bridesmaids” in which McCarthy’s aggressive sexual expression was supposed to be funny because she is a large woman. In “Identity Thief,” the humorous irony stems from Diana’s fearlessness and street smarts which make her more competent at achieving Sandy’s goal than Sandy himself.
While other critics lampooned the film’s sentimentality, learning about Diana and watching her vacillate between unabashed confidence and resigned insecurity was one of the more interesting subplots. This was a great opportunity to have Diana clearly express how she felt about herself at the end of the film, thereby fully developing the character and resolving this conflict. Sadly, “Identity Thief” could not decide how it felt about its most interesting character.
In one pivotal scene, Diana is in a high-end salon, gaily trying on products when she realizes the trendy, slim makeup artists are laughing at her. They look away, ashamed that they have been discovered, as does she. When she turns on her heels and makes a B-line for the shallow ditzes, it seems an intense tell-off scene is about to ensue. Instead, Diana meekly declares, “I need help.” The ditzes turn Diana into an Adele-look-alike, clad in a black dress and neutral tone makeup which causes her to fade in the background, where Hollywood apparently feels the larger women belong. This infuriating scene was the worst transgression of the film but certainly not the only one.
Diana is a wanted woman. An imprisoned crime lord appears (for fifteen seconds) to order her death because he clearly cannot prioritize. The protagonists are pursued by the gang leader’s underlings (Genesis Rodriguez and T.I.) who become the subject of a bad joke about “traditional neighborhoods” because of their ethnic identities. A skiptracer (Robert Patrick), hired by an inappropriately relaxed female voice (whose owner is never revealed), also seeks out Diana.
While “Identity Thief” was for the most part a predictable comedy movie, it dodged other holes. Bateman executed some of the humor on his own, and there’s an underlying commentary on the bureaucratic process somewhere. But if such a message is in the film, it is buried under the goofy missteps and occasional comic suckerpunches.