Coyote vs. Acme

First, a primer. Shot, scored and test-screened, Coyote Vs Acme was set for release in 2023 – only for studio overlord David Zaslav to bury the film as a tax write-off. Exhumed by distributor Ketchup three years later (and Altitude in the UK), the assumption is the indie outfit have bought a total stinker. Not so. Not even close. Slamming the funny bone with the force of a plunging piano, this berserk comedy is like swallowing a sausage-string of TNT. In other words, it’s an absolute blast. 

There’s a satisfying irony to this David vs Goliath backstory, because Coyote Vs Acme is about a literal underdog triumphing against a toxic megacorp. Inspired by Ian Frazier’s New Yorker article, the movie asks an irresistible ‘what-if?’: after a lifetime of being crushed, blown up and eviscerated in his pursuit of meal-on-wheels Road Runner, what would happen if Wile E Coyote sued Acme for its defective products? 

Enter Will Forte’s personal injury lawyer Kevin Avery, hired by Coyote to take on Acme: a monolith of innovation selling magic tunnel paint, canned lions and dehydrated boulders like a psychopathic Temu. Convinced Coyote only wants Road Runner on the witness stand so he can BBQ him, and wary of taking on Acme’s blowhard lawyer (a very game John Cena), Avery uncovers a hideous cartoon vivisection conspiracy known as Project Sisyphus. 

Forte is crucial here: his hangdog, faintly exhausted performance a counterbalance to the film’s dizzying vortex of lunacy. Forget world-building – blending live-action with animation, you instantly accept humans live alongside cartoons. 

Will Forte is a hangdog counterbalance to the dizzying vortex of lunacy

For any pre-millennial raised on Chuck Jones’ shorts, the mere sight of Coyote’s hunting ground of jagged, angular canyons will bring a sunburst of nostalgia. For those who weren’t, the Rube Goldberg chain-reactions of backfiring contraptions is a baptism of relentless, precision-engineered slapstick. Director Dave Green has pulled off a genuine spectacle here, channelling the manic spirit of Chuck Jones so faithfully, you wonder if he has access to an Acme ouija board. 

From Yosemite Sam to Pepé Le Pew, the entire Looney Tunes zoo is unleashed, but Green’s masterstroke is refusing to humanise the feral Wile E or even give him a voice. Comms limited to the odd hilarious picket sign, you’re left with his twangy facial expressions to guess how he feels. And, surprisingly, you do feel for the raggedy old fleabag. For all the chaos, kabooms and raining anvils, this is a man-and-his-dog film at heart that builds a relatable bond between its sad-sack lawyer and desert mutt. Demented as it sounds, come the end credits, it’s even sneakily, subtly moving. 

One minor nitpick. This is a family comedy and kids don’t watch courtroom dramas. The intricacies of the legal showdown will likely skid right over their heads, but it’s hardly fatal. This is about as close to a spiritual sequel to Roger Rabbit we’ll ever get. Not as dark, certainly not as frightening, but just as inventive and emphatically flat-out funnier. 

Looney Tunes is part of Warner Bros.’ DNA. Canning this zippy funhouse of a film is like burying grandma while she’s alive and kicking. Everyone knows you can’t keep a good dog down, especially an unkillable coyote. Maybe Zaslav should watch a few more cartoons. 

In UK and Ireland cinemas Aug 21 and US theaters Aug 28.