FILM OF THE WEEK:Mike & Nick & Nick & Alice - Reviewed by Roe McDermott

Certain eras have picked some funny white dude and chosen to elevate him to status of Box Office King. The 1990s had hardcore comedy stars like Robin Williams and Jim Carrey, with Adam Sandler and Will Ferrell coming in hot on their heels as the new millennium dawned. In the early 2000s it was Ben Stiller’s turn, before Judd Apatow’s regular crew started dominating comedy releases.

But along the way, there was a time where Vince Vaughn had the world in a chokehold. Vaughn took his star-making turn in 1996’s Swingers and rapidly became a mainstay on our screens in the early 2000s, thanks to his rapid-fire banter and the juxtaposition of his tall good looks with the buzzy energy of someone whose insecurities lie just below the charm. His insouciance, his flirty charm, the arrogance undercut by the nonstop talking of a man who knows he’s performing and is terrified of what will happen when he stops - it all just worked. Even when comedies like The Internship and Couples Retreat were disappointing, his charm remained highlight. Roles in The Break-Up hinted at his ability to handle emotion and drama, which he leaned into beautifully in True Detective and Hacksaw Ridge, before going dark with the neo-noir grindhouse thriller Brawl in Cell Block 99, still managing to connect with audiences through the violence.

In recent years, Vaughn’s successes have been more modest and his relevance has been waining. His politics have been more questionable, and in any other week, I would not have been rushing to watch the new comedy Mike & Nick & Nick & Alice, streaming now on Disney+. While I will always have a soft spot for James Marsden, whose self-parodying turn in Jury Duty forever cemented him as One Of The Good Ones, his output can be middling. Eiza González meanwhile, has breathtaking bone structure but underwhelming acting chops.

In this this particular genre mash-up the results are, again, middling. But Vaughn’s charm still cuts through, even if it flickers rather than blazes. Maybe that’s the trick: a very quiet week release, a dual performance from Vaughan, and just enough familiar charisma to carry something that might otherwise drift past unnoticed.

The film opens with Ben Schwartz singing along to a Billy Joel Disney deep cut while fiddling around in a science lab, piecing together an improvised machine – before something unexpected comes crashing in. It’s an immediate introduction to the film’s deliberate tonal clash, playing as it does with violence and comedy that blends jaunty absurdity with a deep commitment to pop culture references.

Scwartz’s mystery device is what pulls the story into motion. Vaughn plays Nick, a mid-level gangster who, despite his power, influence and beautiful wife Alice (Gonzalez), has become miserable. His closest associate Mike, played by Marsden, wants to get out of their shared life of crime, but Nick is questioning Mike’s loyalty and may not be able to let him leave. This blend of personal and professional tension threatens to spill over into irreversible violence – until another Nick steps into the picture, sent from six months in future, carrying the weight of what’s about to happen and eager to set it right.

What follows is less about unravelling timelines and more about a man confront a version of himself he would prefer not to recognise. The film moves quickly through betrayals, near misses, and violent confrontations, more interested in keeping the energy up than in clarifying how any of it fully fits together. There are stretches that lean into crime thriller territory, others that gesture toward romance and a love triangle, and a sci-fi conceit that’s very faintly sketched out. Rather than folding these strands together, the film cycles through them, relying on pop culture references, needle-drop soundtrack choices and comedy-infused shoot-outs to paper over the cracks. The film feels like it’s aiming to be a throwback to the mid-budget action comedies that dominated cinemas in the early 2000s, but it lands closer to the streaming-era approximation of that formula, where everything is turned up and noticeably effortful, but nothing quite connects.

The comedy follows a similar pattern. There is a sense of overcompensation, of jokes being pushed a beat too far in the hope they might click into place. Occasionally, they do – a recurring riff about the characters all independently loving Gilmore Girls (including a prolonged, entirely straight-faced discussion of the eternal Rory’s Best Boyfriend debate) is a delight. Perhaps because it’s paying homage to Amy Sherman Palladino’s own love of breakneck banter, it feels specific and fun compared to the genericism of the film’s romantic plot.

Despite the occasionally faltering writing, the cast are likeable and just about keep things watchable. Vaughn’s split role works well, as he lets one Nick move with swagger while the other carries a quieter, more reflective weight. The difference is subtle but effective, more about timing than transformation. Marsden brings an ease that suits a character built on shifting loyalties, though he has been much funnier, while González is underserved by the script.

There are hints of something more considered beneath it all. In the moments where Future Nick begins to explain himself, the film edges toward something reflective, a story about regret, about the slow dawning awareness of how casually damage can be done. Those moments don’t last long, quickly overtaken by quips and the demands of the busy plot, and could have elevated the film into something smarter.

Without that, it moves through jokes and set-pieces and crowd-pleaser songs, hoping that the charm of the leads will keep the energy up. And in brief flashes, for it does. There are moments where Vaughn’s presence, his timing, and his easy charm reminds you of why he worked so well in the first place. Unfortunately everything else becomes so forgettable that those flashes fade quickly. But in a quiet release week, it might just see you through as long as you know that this isn’t money, baby - it’s spare change.

Written and directed by Ben avid Grabinski. Cinematography by Larry Fong. Edited by Tim Squyres. Starring Vince Vaughn, James Marsden, Eiza González, Keith David, Jimmy Tatro, Stephen Root, Lewis Tan, Ben Schwartz, Emily Hampshire, Arturo Castro. 107 mins

• On Disney+ now.