In 2007, the Frank Oz-directed Death at a Funeral was a funny, sardonic look at the drama that unfolds when loved ones return for a patriarch’s final send-off. In addition to the situational humor that put the characters through the wringer, the rest of the laughter came from jokes buried in lines best spoken with a British accent. It was smart, witty, and nuanced.

In 2010, now directed by Neil LaBute, all of Death at a Funeral’s subtlety is stripped away until every joke is laid out as if in a coffin during a viewing. It’s a different kind of humor, but still frickin’ hilarious.

Also giving credit to Dean Craig as screenwriter, the new Death at a Funeral follows Aaron (Chris Rock) as he tries to balance the needs of the living with the need to bury his father. If his ovulating wife (Regina Hall), successful writer brother (Martin Lawrence), and cranky uncle (Danny Glover) weren’t enough, a visit from his father’s little friend Frank (Peter Dinklage) is enough to make Aaron want to crawl into the open grave and pull the dirt in on top of him. Mainly because Frank has come less with condolences and more to collect; unless Aaron pays, the vertically challenged ex-lover of Dad is going to reveal the latter’s life on the down-low and his penchant for dressing up like Effie in Dreamgirls.

It’s this plot point, dead Dad’s gay life, that makes Death at a Funeral’s switch to an African American family so fascinating. The down-low lifestyle adds a whole new element to the film’s gay twist and provides the characters with a language to use and a world to reference. It also adds a layer of racial tension to the already outrageous scenario. To paraphrase Aaron, “Dad’s pocket-sized, gay lover shows up and you’re upset he’s white?”

Even with all these shenanigans going on, it’s the other stories that really generate the laughs. Cousin Elaine’s (Zoe Saldana) boyfriend (James Marsden) takes a hallucinogenic drug by mistake and trips his balls off. Elaine’s former boyfriend (Luke Wilson) is in attendance not to mourn, but to win her back. And Norman (Tracy Morgan) is stuck tending to Uncle Russell and his very demanding – and cranky – ways.

Once everyone arrives at the funeral, the film takes place in real time. Similar to an episode of 24, the frantic pace creates a kinetic energy that would be enough to revive the dead. Quick cuts (sometimes too quick) keep the different storylines moving along at brisk paces, and LaBute manages to given them equal value and weight. However, with such a quick set-up and outrageous scenarios, the humor level is set incredibly high, which is nearly impossible to sustain for the entire movie. While LaBute avoids the crash and burn, he has to continually increase the volume, sacrificing subtlety until this “black” comedy is just a comedy. That’s not to say it doesn’t work. In several instances the humor is improved from the original, and it just completes the transition into its own film.

With so many big names in one film, it’s tough to highlight the best performances. Rock certainly holds his own even as Aaron is struggling to hold everything together. Lawrence plays the part of the younger brother (and jackass) with the right amount of sleaze, and Morgan is stupid and loveable, just like on 30 Rock. As the grieving widow, Loretta Devine and her breathy voice is a killer in every scene. But it’s Marsden as the tripping boyfriend who demands the most laughs. Looking really good as he crawls around the roof of the house naked, he embraces the role’s psychedelic turn with gusto.

Dinklage returns from the original film to again step into the blackmailing lover’s tiny shoes, and seems to be enjoying the role very much. He too brings the humor forward and leaves the British restraint behind, but to do otherwise would have made his performance stand out (in a bad way) from the rest.

Unfortunately a feces joke makes the jump across the pond and, you guessed it, there’s more of it this time. While most of the gay humor is intact and is never too insulting (who can really get mad at Golden Girls, Madonna, and Dreamgirls references?), some of the more tender moments between the former lovers, since one of them is dead, are going to be received as gags rather than touching. Or just cause gagging.

By the end of the film, it’s a testament to Craig’s script and LaBute’s direction that the normalcy that is restored once dad is buried is what feels out of place. Makes you almost wish that Uncle Russell would kick the bucket soon so that the group can get together for another funeral.

I am beginning to question my commitment to Sparkle Motion.

Director Richard Kelly had an avid fan after Donnie Darko, but his most recent follow-up, The Box, just doesn’t deliver. See, The Box would be really interesting if it wasn’t so boring. That may seem obvious, but something about the movie should be since most of it is a garbled mess.

At first The Box is a sociology 101 experiment: a $1 million gift is offered to a couple if they are willing to push a button that will cause the death of a stranger. Will they push it? What is a stranger’s life worth? What are the ramifications of pushing the button? It’s similar to Indecent Proposal when Robert Redford offers Demi Moore a million bucks to sleep with him (yeah, like he’d have to pay for it). But what starts out like Indecent Proposal ends up like Invasion of the Body Snatchers.

The Box is actually a science fiction cautionary tale of humankind’s destructive and selfish nature. Norma (Cameron Diaz) and Arthur (James Marsden) are a suburban couple in Richmond, Virginia, having a bad run of luck – she found out they can’t afford private school for their son, and he’s not going to be an astronaut after years of working at NASA, most recently on the Viking mission to Mars (the film is set in 1976). So when a mysterious man (Frank Langella), makes them the million-dollar offer, Norma pushes the button. They – and the audience – suffer through some hand wringing before taking the plunge, but the lady never protests too much.

As the couple deals with the consequences of their actions, things get more and more bizarre. There are multiple buttons and boxes, dead bodies pop up everywhere, and creepy people seem to follow Norma and Arthur’s every move. It spirals more and more out of control until no one – either in the audience or on the screen – can really tell which way is up.

Kelly takes his sweet time setting up the film, and then more time revealing each clue. But rather than a glimpse into the real story behind the button (it should really be titled The Button instead of The Box), each new piece of information seems to taunt rather than clarify. There’s an air of pretentiousness to the film that didn’t mire down Donnie Darko. With Donnie, it was like everyone was along for the ride together; in The Box, it’s like you’re being fleeced by a cabbie taking the long way around because he knows you’re from out of town.

As compelling as Diaz can be, she should not, under any circumstance, try to do a Southern accent again. Likewise, it’s fortunate that a limp she’s saddled with is rectified fairly quickly. Neither infuses naturally with the character, so they come off as unconvincing and distracting. Marsden is a little more reliable as Arthur, but it’s good he’s playing the intellectual lead man rather than the brawny protagonist. Let’s just say he makes a credible scientist.

If Diaz’s accent is distracting, then Langella’s face is nearly film-stopping. He plays a horribly disfigured man with tendons and exposed teeth à la Two-Face in The Dark Knight. The computer generated scarring and face removal is mesmerizing, to the point that it’s tough to concentrate on what he saying when the jaw is flapping.

However, just as Mad Men is fun to watch for the props, seeing the mid-70s décor can be a fun pastime when the plot just gets too crazy. The wallpaper alone is good for a chuckle or two when needed most.

There are all sorts of references to texts which theoretically support the film, including Jean-Paul Sartre’s No Exit, the Bible, and sociological concepts like the Altruism Theory. There’s enough to fill a semester’s worth of reading, and while it can lead to a good 24 hours of conversation about what Kelly was trying to do, at the end of that time one question is going to prevail, “Does this film deserve so much time spent on deciphering it?” Sadly, the answer is no. You’re better off sticking to Donnie Darko, and maybe you’ll find that Sparkle Motion pride again.