That '70s Drift: Pulp Fiction

THE NICE GUYS (B-minus) - Give it up for Ryan Gosling, who reaches deep down here for seriously childish comedy chops, and carries this spoofy crime noir that has no right to be as entertaining as it is.

Gosling plays hard-luck private detective Holland March, who, through a twist of fate (and of an arm) teams up with bruiser Jackson Healy (Russell Crowe) to unravel the mystery of the apparent death of porn star Misty Mountains, whose car spectacularly plunges off the Hollywood Hills, through the house of an adolescent boy, at the moment he's gawking at her in one of his dad's skin magazines, and out the back end of the house. The pair dodge various thugs as they hunt for another young woman caught up in the porn industry, Amelia (Margaret Qualley from HBO's "The Leftovers"), a slippery target who somehow stays a step ahead of the men.

The fumbling but crafty duo are assisted by March's precocious daughter, Holly (the dynamic Australian teen Angourie Rice), who likes to defy her father's orders and insert herself into dangerous situations. Rice is a gem here, tossing out lines like a teen Jodie Foster and serving as foil to the misbehaving adults.

The setting is Los Angeles in 1977, and the dumpy pre-digital era is rendered here in funky hairstyles, colorful clothing and plentiful drugs. The soundtrack pulses with disco fluff and classic dusties; the credits start with "Papa Was a Rollin' Stone" and end with Al Green's "Love and Happiness." A wild house party imagines what "Mad Men" would have descended to if it had lasted a few more seasons.

"The Nice Guys" emanates from the pulp factory of writer/director Shane Black, who cut his teeth with the script for "Lethal Weapon" and still churns out action fare like "Iron Man 3," but who, for our purposes here, was the mastermind behind 2005's breathtaking true-crime romp "Kiss Kiss, Bang Bang" with Val Kilmer and Robert Downey Jr. "The Nice Guys" employs the same kinetic philosophy of a plot that's impossible to follow but is stuffed with so much energy and wit that the viewer has no choice but to give in (provided you don't give up after 20 minutes).

Gosling has endless fun with his somewhat dimwitted but sly private eye who is more than a little bit of a coward. March has a meet-brute with Healy, and they slip easily into the buddy-cop banter that Black made an instant cliche with Danny Glover and Mel Gibson a generation ago. Crowe has never really impressed us. Even in his best roles -- "L.A. Confidential" and "American Gangster" -- he doesn't exactly light up the screen like Pacino or brood like Brando. Here, he's serviceable if unspectacular, and he's generous with Gosling, whose lines are laugh-out-loud funny and whose physical work is impressive. (Speaking of "L.A. Confidential," a meticulously preserved Kim Basinger shows up here in a throwaway role as a corrupt Justice Department official.)

Black loads this up with too many plot twists and way too much graphic, disturbing violence, and it's about 15 minutes too long. But it's often a riot. The mismatched trio of heroes are charming. This is what 2004's remake of "Starsky and Hutch" should have been -- a trippy, sleazy homage to a gloomy genre. It's a lot of fun.

BONUS TRACK
The trailer: