'Pee-wee's Big Holiday' is a safe, comfortable comeback vehicle

A queer theorist could have a field day with Pee-wee's Big Holiday, Netflix's latest stab at reviving a beloved property from a bygone era of television and movies.

There are countless threads to unpack here, from the film's emphasis on homosocial (if not explicitly homosexual) bonding to its cheeky way of casting men as objects of desire -- not to mention its tendency to present women (and, to a lesser extent, female sexuality) as terrifying, unhinged, or both.

Of course, that's par for the course for Pee-Wee, the giddy, gray-flannel-suit-clad manchild whom comedian Paul Reubens has been playing since the '70s. Richard Goldstein may have said it best in an old Village Voice article, written not long after Reubens found himself mired in his second high-profile sex scandal:

The virtue of vintage erotica is that it leaves an ambiguous space between the image and its meaning. It could be perverse; it could be manly display. This is also the secret of Pee-wee's appeal. He straddled the boundary between man and boy, straight and gay, sexual and innocent. By setting his queer comedy in a children's show he aroused all sorts of adult anxieties. What if this childlike man is actually a pervert? How can he not be?

So yeah: The same sort of stuff is percolating in Pee-wee's Big Holiday, though not as boldly or explicitly as in Pee-wee's Playhouse or Reubens' original Pee-wee stage show. Maybe that's because after the scandals -- one arrest for indecent exposure at an adult theater that ended with a "no contest" plea, another arrest on charges of possessing child pornography that were eventually dismissed -- Reubens would rather focus on lighthearted goofs than subversive, edgy comedy. (And for the record, he's never publicly come out as gay.)

Original image has been replaced. Credit: Mashable

If you look beyond its queer undertones (and overtones), though, Big Holiday is a little less interesting.

The movie follows a path we've almost literally seen before, sending Pee-wee on a madcap, cross-country adventure that's spurred when something out of the ordinary turns his carefully controlled world upside-down.

In Pee-wee's Big Adventure, the film that introduced Reubens (and Tim Burton) to mainstream audiences in 1985, that event was Pee-Wee's beloved bike getting stolen. In Big Holiday, it's the arrival of a very different sort of bike, which comes bearing an especially hunky Joe Manganiello.

(Weirdly enough, the former movie goes unmentioned in the latter, in which Pee-wee repeatedly says that he's never left home before. Not to be the nerd who gets mad about the lack of continuity in the Pee-wee Herman Cinematic Universe, but: It's a bit of a head-scratcher.)

Like the first movie, this one's less about incident and more about quirky setpieces that take Pee-wee everywhere from an Amish farm to a flying car. (Yeah, cars can fly in this universe. Deal with it.) Throughout, Reubens is appealingly impish as ever -- a credit to both his unflagging energy and some fancy postproduction work that helps him keep Pee-wee's ageless glow. 

He's still got a knack for aping not just the speech but also the eccentric mannerisms of a hyperactive child, someone who loves puns and candy and responding to an adult who says "don't touch anything" by touching everything he can get his hands on.

Original image has been replaced. Credit: Mashable

There's not just nostalgic value in the old Pee-wee act; it's a truly impressive performance, especially coming 30 years after the film that made Pee-wee's name. (Here, as always, Reubens himself isn't credited; according to its opening titles, Pee-wee stars in the movie as himself.) 

But it's not exactly enough to hang a whole movie on, even one as relatively wispy as this one. (Someone give a gold star to whomever managed to prevent producer Judd Apatow from turning this into another 150-minute comedy.)

Reubens is game, but the material surrounding him isn't quite at his level. Foils like a trio of sexy bank robbers played by Jessica Pohly, Stephanie Beatriz and Alia Shawkat just don't fit seamlessly into his weirdo universe, especially compared to old Pee-wee pals like Cowboy Curtis (Lawrence Fishburne) or Captain Carl (the late, great Phil Hartman).

There's energy, but not the same anarchic spirit that made Pee-wee's world feel like one where literally anything could happen. And the gentle gags are more likely to evoke faint smiles than full-on belly laughs. (At least from adults; I've truly got no idea how a contemporary kid, weaned on frantically edited Disney XD cartoons, would respond to the wonder that is Pee-wee, in this movie or in any of his older material.)

Maybe that's just what happens when a comedy trailblazer tries to stage a big comeback by doing the same thing he always did: Reubens' original work influenced a generation of performers, who built upon Pee-wee-style humor to create comedy that was even bigger and bolder. As a result, an old-fashioned Pee-wee flick can't help feeling quaint by comparison, subversive edge or not.

Which is all well and good if you're feeling like Pee-wee is at the beginning of the movie: comfortable in the status quo, in a state of perpetual arrested development. If you're looking for something to jolt you out of your seat, though, well -- Pee-wee's Big Holiday is no Joe Manganiello.