Publication Date: 10-01-2025

The Whole Nine Yards (2000) review

Dir. Jonathan Lynn

By: Steve Pulaski

Rating: ★★½

Comedies of the 1990s are beloved for a reason. If you like stupid, silly, and big personalities, the decade offered it in spades. Chris Farley satiated those craving roly-poly slapstick (Tommy Boy, Black Sheep). Pauly Shore gave the personification of bustouts guided by the winds of their own zeal a mascot (Bio-Dome, Son in Law). And, of course, whether I liked them or not, Adam Sandler turned concept comedies into hundred-million dollar successes (Billy Madison, Happy Gilmore).

Then came the 2000s. Farley died, Shore’s star power faded, and Sandler, to his credit, continued his schtick by being agile. Not even two months into a new decade came The Whole Nine Yards, a significantly more mannered comedy than any of the aforementioned works. It boasted a small ensemble, featuring Bruce Willis, Matthew Perry (at the height of Friends‘ popularity), early-aughts staple Amanda Peet, and the always charismatic Michael Clarke Duncan. Its focus wasn’t so much on situational humor, but irony, mismatched character-types, dialog, and the absurd randomness that can often define the world of crime.

While not entirely successful, Jonathan Lynn’s film is refreshing insofar that it doesn’t play by the rules of popular comedies of its time.

In the opening minutes, we meet Nick “Oz” Oseransky (Perry), who runs his own dental in Montreal. His wife, Sophie (Rosanna Arquette), despises his meek nature, and his cute assistant, Jill (Peet), suggests that he have her whacked. Kidding, of course. Enter Jimmy “The Tulip” Tudeski (Willis). a former enforcer of Chicago’s Gogolack crime family, who moves into the house next door to Oz and Sophie. The plot thickens. Oz reveals to Jimmy that he’s deeply in debt following the death of his business partner, Sophie’s (scummy) father. Sophie pressures her husband to fly to Chicago to rat out Jimmy’s whereabouts to the Gogolacks to collect the reward moolah.

Lynn and screenwriter Mitchell Kapner’s attempt to fuse film noir and comedy achieve the most success when it comes to character-building. Rather than structure scenes to elicit big laughs, the duo thoughtfully establish their players. We keep waiting for Willis’ “Tulip” to give some inclination of a manic, unhinged personality, but true to his job, he’s almost impossibly nuanced in his dry humor. Willis is particularly deft at playing Tulip because his casual nature makes you wonder when then the bottom will fall out and he’ll reveal his true colors.

Kapner’s scenes breathe to allow that sort of intrigue to foster. Perry’s feeble dentist is a fine entry-point into this goofy world, but it would’ve been flaccid if he didn’t sell the demeanor. Furthermore, the unsung MVP here is Amanda Peet. Where most of the actors assimilate to their character archetypes, Peet strikes the perfect tone for Jill. The voice, inflections, and the, “am I joking or am I not?” pepper the material with the necessary humor need to make a twisty, windy road of plot converge into something worthwhile.

The Whole Nine Yards suffers from its own desire to stay committed to an equal balance of crime and comedy. It didn’t need to embrace the path of The Naked Gun in order to be successful, but at a certain point, too many characters clog the story and intertwining motivations lessen the impact of the comedy. Between Clue and Nuns on the Run, not to mention his extensive background in TV, Lynn found a formula that echoes many of the same sitcom sentiments. The misstep was making the film so much about the story that it at times neglected the inherent comedy of the entire premise.

Starring: Matthew Perry, Bruce Willis, Rosanna Arquette, Amanda Peet, Michael Clarke Duncan, Natasha Henstridge, and Kevin Pollak. Directed by: Jonathan Lynn.