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Luckily, a director has finally managed to figure out how to secure Dalton's participation in a Dalton-slapping dream team project — paying him a small amount of money — and with the upcoming release of Looney Toons: Back in Action, Timothy-Dalton-hitting-himself enthusiasts finally get their long-promised payoff. I'm sure there were other scenes of note from the new trailer for Looney Toons: Back in Action, but I admit all other clips shown from the film paled in comparison to watching once-respected British actor Timothy Dalton punching himself endlessly in the face while wearing what looked to be a copper beanie. Does it make me a bad person that I rewound it endlessly, enjoying laughter of a wholly unsympathetic nature at Dalton's expense? If you're of the mind that "Yes, it does," you would most likely not enjoy the following wallpapers I made while laughing and drinking liquor: (Right click on image and select "Set as Background") If you discover you can watch this trailer and not be similarily hypnotized by that scene, you are officially a better man than I. Having said that, you would most likely have no interest in Looney Toons cartoons in the first place, since at a rough guess about 97% of their running time involves a hand, a face, and some manner of high velocity introduction between the two. Not that this matters, since in an ironic post-modern twist, the extreme violence that drew us to the original cartoons seems to be the one aspect surgically extracted from their feature film successors. That Warner Brothers would make a Looney Toons film, then consciously remove the one thing — massively debilitating injuries — that we watched them for in the first goddamn place is probably a resonant metaphor of some kind; either for the neutering political correctness of modern entertainment, or for the brain-shattering stupidity of Warner Brothers. Be sure to keep an eye out for the WB remake of The Three Stooges, where an updated Larry (Skeet Ulrich), Curly (Greg Kinnear) and Moe (Heath Ledger) work as a team to save puppy orphanages from mean people in the Brazilian Rain Forest through the power of caring; or the in-development feature film version of the A*Team, where our heroes delicately scoop potting soil into their vaginas and sprout sun-dappled bouquets of gardenias from them. Those of you who still consider yourselves fans of Steve Martin might want to consider asking for a refund from the fan club early to beat the rush. He stars in Looney Toons: Back in Action as a mincing, scene-chewing idiot in, from the looks of it, a 100% comedy-free role. Given that Martin was one of the last few 1970's SNL vets not to jump the shark, it's somewhat painful to watch him trip headfirst over it now and land flailing into its mouth. Having had the sense not to get within a hundred feet of Bringing Down the House, I can't attest to Martin's performance in that undoubted classic— however, judging from the trailer for Back in Action, I can safely say that Steve Martin, like so many his contemporaries, has finally lost his fucking mind. I don't even pretend to know what goes through a comedian's head once he hits his forties. All I know is that, no matter how tear-streamingly hilarious he used to be, the second he has children a comedian inexplicably feels the need to make films that would cause the world embarrassment. Perhaps through some odd genetic anomaly all funny people have exceptionally retarded kids, and so are doomed to make films exclusively for them once they reach the age of six.
With dead seriousness, I ask you: do you need more than that to base an hour and a half film around? I could watch a Tolkeinesque trilogy of a rooster beating a dog with a plank of wood, and still buy the extended version DVD to savor the outtakes. Why Warner Brothers felt the need to tart up a perfectly servicable dramatic story arc with some nonsense involving Steve Martin as a mad scientist is beyond me. Then again, it's possible I'm asking for too much from the same creative team that came up with the Looney Toons teaming up with Michael Jordan to play basketball in space. I suppose I should just be grateful that Steve Martin isn't shagging a few flies for Bugs on the fucking Moon. Jenna Elfman additionally stars in this film, so apparently she's not dead after all. Rounding out the cast is Brendan Fraser and, as mentioned, Timothy Dalton hitting himself in the face. Not a lot of the plot is explained in the trailer for Back in Action, so either they're trying to hold back all the surprise twists, or there isn't actually a plot. Either way, who cares? Our children deserve better. Our children deserve violenter. The day an eight year old can't enjoy the simple pleasures of a ten-foot-high rooster ass-beating a dog to death is the day I take away his two-by-four. Until then, I'll certainly be sure to keep him leagues away from Looney Toons: Back in Action. I don't care how badly the film wants to teach him the value of solving his problems through patience and caring; if they don't bother to throw in a savage plank-beating or two, I don't see how he'll be expected to defend himself the next time he spots a sleeping dog tied to a ten-foot length of chain. Hollywood, I officially throw the gauntlet down. Don't let a generation of children grow up without the life-saving skills they'll need to pound the buttocks of sleeping dogs mercilessly with two-by-fours. Don't say nobody warned you.
RATING (for the trailer): RATING (for Timothy Dalton
punching himself in the face):
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It
is an undisputed fact that most of us would like to see Timothy Dalton
slap himself repeatedly in the face. However, for years the astronomical
budget required to pull this off, in addition to Dalton's voiced reluctance
to slap himself, has kept North America's collective dream from becoming
a face-slapping reality. 
At
any rate. The plots from the original Looney Toons cartoons were
simplicity itself. You take a dog, say, and tie him to a ten-foot length
of chain, then allow him to drift off to sleep in his doghouse. Then
you find yourself A) an enormous mutant rooster and give him
B) a two-by-four plank. Like any respectable mutant rooster,
he will contemplate the plank for a moment, then choose the only logical
course of acton: creeping up to the sleeping dog, pulling him suddenly
into the air by his tail, then paddling him brutally in the ass for
a minute and a half. By the time the dog wakes up and becomes aware
of his painful degradation, the rooster has already made his laughing
escape. The dog gives chase, forgetting in his ass-paddled rage the
short length of chain binding him to the dog house, until he is yanked
back with spine-shattering force when he gets ten feet away. The rooster,
concerned for the dog's welfare, helpfully picks him up by the tail
again and beats him senseless in the ass for another minute.