It's been a tough few decades for Wile E. Coyote, the famous grizzled predator of the desert Southwest.
Pursuing his nemesis the Road Runner has led to countless mishaps: falls, collisions, and explosions, with resulting concussions, burns, and dismemberments. All this despite Coyote's ingenious plans involving giant magnets, rocket roller skates, catapults, cannons, metal bird seed, and anvils.
Could the problem be ACME, the conglomerate that equips him? Spotting a TV ad featuring ambulance-chasing lawyer Kevin Avery (played by a committed Will Forte), Coyote contemplates a lawsuit for his damages.
The brilliant premise for Coyote vs. Acme comes from New Yorker writer Ian Frazier, whose 1996 collection of short stories also includes "Boswell's Life of Don Johnson" and his superb Bob Hope takedown, "Thanks for the Memory."
According to Samy Burch's screenplay, in order to sue ACME, Coyote has to operate in a Who Framed Roger Rabbit world where cartoons co-exist with humans. The filmmakers capture this mix with so much expertise and confidence that viewers will have no trouble accepting the animated effects, especially in how they interact with the humans.
By taking Coyote's case, Avery finds himself fighting chief counsel Buddy Crane (John Cena) and his massive legal department. On the other hand, Avery and his team, including his niece Paige (Lana Condor, as close to a cartoon name as you can get), operate out of a cinderblock office in a strip mall.
Ensconced in the Prickly Pear Motel, Avery and Coyote set about gathering evidence and witnesses. That's the chance for director Dave Green to wander through the extraordinary Warner Bros. cartoon library, summoning characters like Daffy Duck, Tweety Bird, and Bugs Bunny.
The best Warners cartoons exploded with chaos and lunacy over seven minutes or so. Green and his crew have almost two hours to fill, time they use to flesh out — read "sentimentalize" — the leads. They see Avery and Coyote as losers who have to be redeemed, and everybody else as basically window dressing.
Back stories and flashbacks aren't enough here. The filmmakers, like the animators they are imitating, resort to repetition, at one point unreeling four jumping-over-a-chasm gags in a row. But no matter how hard they try to inject energy, the film remains sober and restrained. It's just too staid.
What rescues Coyote vs. Acme is the filmmakers' respect and appreciation for the Warners heritage. No one betrays the animated universe—by suddenly learning how to speak, for example. No one steps out of character, even if Tweety has to play a villain at times.
The script manages to touch on existential doubts, concepts Toy Story has used for decades. "You're never going to catch him," Avery tells Coyote at one point, and the crestfallen look on his face is heartbreaking.
Then there are the grace notes. When Daffy goes on a rant, he knocks the frame itself around. Instead of stars, little Sylvesters fly around a concussed Tweety's head. ACME's R&D team has a new "Ski and Refrigeration Supplies" truck. A previous case, Sylvester v. Gonzalez, established "chased by a predator" as a legal occupation.
The film's own backstory is notable. Finished in 2023, the project was abandoned by Warners, who eventually allowed Ketchup Entertainment to release it. Check out the writing credits: "Screen story by James Gunn & Jeremy Slater and Samy Burch."
Frankly, the politics and economics behind Coyote vs. Acme aren't as interesting as the movie itself, a diverting pleasure that occasionally evokes real belly laughs.
(For the record, the title on screen is Coyote v. ACME, but the press kit includes: "Note to editors: the title of the picture is Coyote vs. Acme. Please use this form in all references.")
The film opens Friday, August 28, only in movie theaters, via Ketchup Entertainment. Visit the official site for locations and showtimes.