Vince Vaughn mounts a fun-filled, Old West variety show and kicks it off, natch, in Hollywood. Here Vaughn and his hearty ensemble of hand-plucked funny-men (John Caparulo, Bret Ernst, Sebastian Maniscalco and Ahmed Ahmed) riff rhapsodic about wine, women and song.
Local celebs pick up the trail along the way - Mac poster boy Justin Long, country crooner Dwight Yoakam and Vaughn BFF Jon Favreau. Venues reflect their own inimitable culture: the San Diego crowd bristling over jokey barbs on apple martinis and flip-flops, while Katrina-battered Louisianans bask in the warmth and distraction of bawdy laughs.
The terrain is diverse: the bright lights of Vegas, the scrubby plains of El Paso and the manic student frenzy of Madison, Wisc., putting a faceted lens on America's ebb and flow.
"West" could use some trimming. The road-show aspect is repetitive but thankfully broken up with radio interviews, hometown reunions and escalating tensions arising from peripatetic, and claustrophobic, touring.
The humor is mostly fresh and often dirty - absolutely nothing is sacred. Racial-profiling and smutty-sex jokes jockey with true confessions about the heart of humor stemming from a deep place of insecurity and need.
Vaughn's mischievous imprint hangs over all: slick, irreverent and begging for more - of what, I'm not sure.