Of all the sketch comedy series on Australian television over the years, my clear favourite was "The Late Show." Running for only two series in 1992 and 1993, it still looms large in the memory as representing an unusually fortuitous coalescence of talent. The central group of writer / performers comprised Rob Sitch, Tom Gleisner, Jane Kennedy, Santo Cilauro, Tony Martin, Mick Molloy, Judith Lucy, and Jason Stephens, and of these, only Stephens has not been a major figure in Australian comedy in the decade since. Sitch, Gleisner, Kennedy and Cilauro were possibly the most conspicuously successful, with the television satire "Frontline" and the films The Castle (1997) and The Dish (2000). Yet I’d always felt Tony Martin was possibly the most talented of the group, based both on his "Late Show" work and his brilliant radio program with Molloy. So when I saw he’d written and directed a feature film starring Molloy there was no keeping me away.

Martin’s film, Bad Eggs, is a deft combination of comedy and police thriller. Molloy and Bob Franklin star as Ben Kinnear and Mike Paddock, a pair of detectives with the elite "Zero Tolerance Unit," who get demoted after a series of bungles that starts with shooting the corpse of a respected magistrate, and then manages to go downhill from there. They quickly realise, however, that they have stumbled on to corruption in the force. The key to unravelling the puzzle turns out to be ex-cop turned journalist Julie Bale (Judith Lucy), who also has a romantic past with Kinnear.

Bad Eggs is not quite as enjoyable as the Sitch / Gleisner / Kennedy / Cilauro collaboration The Castle, which is a classic of Australian film comedy. Yet in some ways it’s more impressive. The Castle was a marvel of simple pleasures: a straightforward story with good jokes and genuine warmth, beautifully performed. In terms of film technique, however, it was basic to say the least: a pan represented the exotic end of its film vocabulary. Even the more elaborate and ambitious The Dish retained a resolutely conservative visual look, and unchallenging egalitarian theme. Bad Eggs is far more adventurous than either film in terms of plot, themes, and film style: as a first feature, it’s a remarkable achievement for writer / director Martin.

Molloy, as Kinnear, is given a surprisingly straight role: while Molloy’s standard comic persona is still clearly evident, he is tasked with driving the plot and this requires a more focussed performance than we’re accustomed to seeing from him. The collaboration with Martin has always been productive for Molloy, raising the standard of his often crass comedy, and this is no exception. Bob Franklin is very effective in a more purely comic role as Paddock, Kinnear’s droll partner. Comedically, the film is carried largely by the comic timing that Franklin and Molloy bring to the by-play between these two men. The supporting cast is led by Lucy, who brings her usual very dry delivery to the role of Julie. The entire supporting cast is excellent, with Nicholas Bell a very effective villain, and the always dependable Marshall Napier and Bill Hunter as Kinnear and Paddock’s superiors. Perhaps the standout of the minor cast, though, is Shaun Micallef’s beautifully judged performance as Victorian premier Lionel Cray, a character transparently based upon the real-life former premier Jeff Kennett. Micallef has only a few scenes, but he expertly puts across the smarminess under the character’s slick exterior. This manages to get legitimate laughs from a character that is written almost entirely straight.

As I’ve suggested though, while Martin’s script is crisp and funny, it is not the humour alone that distinguishes Bad Eggs. (It’s not the first film to effectively showcase Australian comedians.) Martin has gone the extra mile, taking great trouble to fashion a watertight and involving plot to carry the film. The pace lags a little about fifteen minutes in as he sets this up, but the investment of screentime is worth it. The villains are genuinely menacing and the audience really fears for the heroes (this is not The Naked Gun). It’s even about something, highlighting the collusion between government and the gambling industry, and the erosion of public confidence in hard-line right wing police units such as the Zero Tolerance Unit.

Martin is well known as a film buff and his knowledge of the medium informs his direction. He evokes the style of directors known for their genre work (such as John Woo, Sergio Leone, and Quentin Tarantino), and manages a tricky balance: he uses their stylistic effects to increase tension, while still getting in a few sly jokes at their expense. Particularly impressive is his confident handling of major set-pieces. The credit sequence is a notable comic example, but there is also a very strong sequence involving an attempt to access a computer. This is classic heist movie stuff: in particular, it evokes the hacking sequence in Brian DePalma’s Mission Impossible. What distinguishes this is that it avoids the easy cheats, such as the conveniently vulnerable air duct in De Palma’s film. Martin actually gives us a locked room with apparently unbeatable security and then works out a plausible way of getting through it. He doesn’t cut his heroes any slack either: the room is guarded by a security guard, and Martin makes him much more diligent in his duties than he needed to be. The whole thing would be a credit to any straight crime thriller, and shows Martin has ignored the conventional wisdom that you don’t really need to work on these things in comedies.

The Castle always threatened to become a hit overseas, with critics such as Roger Ebert championing it, but it never quite made it. I hope Bad Eggs can do better in the United States. Hollywood specialises in awkward, unsatisfying fusions of comedy and drama: Bad Eggs shows the mix done with confidence and style.

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