Hey, Happy!

Despite occasional bad-taste outrageousness, overall tone is surprisingly sweet, even lyrical and romantic at times.

An exuberant mess of a movie. You despair at the mess, at the narrative and structural chaos; and yet you delight in the director's sheer infectious energy.

Like its characters, Hey, Happy! is more comfortable with music, images, and rhythms than words, but unlike raves, narrative films generally need dialogue, and whenever the characters open their mouths, the movie crawls to a halt. Even at 75 minutes, it seems less like a party than an endurance test.

Individual parts are actually quite funny, and the music, the most marketable element, is quite good. It's just that most of us cringe at photos of ourselves taken while we're really loaded. Too often, Hey, Happy! feels as if that embarrassment was taken to the next level.

The film feels too formulaic and too familiar to produce the transgressive thrills of early underground work.

Gonick's visceral impulses have drawn comparisons with John Waters, but the starry-eyed collision of gross-out gags and candy-sweet sentiment owes as much of a debt to the Farrellys as Bruce LaBruce.

With its amateurish performances and sloppy script, Hey, Happy! has the homemade feel of a cult movie, but very little of the charm.