n the streets of modern-day Paris, a band of terrorists threatens to detonate a weapon of mass destruction, laying to waste countless lives and significant historical landmarks, which are conveniently within tumbling distance of one another. Enter Team America, a quartet of government agents who preserve order by ridding the globe of international terrorists and evildoers who purport to threaten the American way of life: There's Joe, an all-star athlete from Nebraska and natural-born leader; Sarah, an empath from Berkeley's School for the Clairvoyant; Chris, the "best martial-arts expert Detroit has to offer"; and Lisa, a psychology major who understands the terrorist mindset—and happens to be a looker to boot.
The quartet easily defeat their enemies, destroy gay Paree and save the day, but simultaneously discover a plot to distribute bombs all across the globe. Their solution, unsurprisingly, is waiting for them on Broadway: Gary Johnston, lead performer of the hit musical Lease and one hell of a great actor. Initially, Gary has reservations about putting his talent on the line for Team America, but with a little persuasion from Lisa and a host of surgery from Sarah, he successfully infiltrates the terrorist ring and thwarts a small band of bombers before they can strike. Unfortunately, they were but one cell in a much larger network, and the Panama Canal is obliterated by another of this deadly group's bombs.
Disillusioned by failure, Gary quits the team and falls to drinking. At the same time, terrorist mastermind Kim Jong Il attacks Team America's lair, destroys their base of operations and captures the remaining members. Aided by a supposedly peace-loving faction of Hollywood, the Film Actors' Guild, the dictator schemes to throw an elaborate banquet during which he will detonate the disparate bombs and destroy freedom across the globe. With Team America down for the count, Gary is the last, great hope for the free world. But can he overcome his troubled past and become the red-blooded hero he was always meant to be?
Politics and parody join hands
Forget about Fahrenheit 9/11—Team America is the most incisive and political film of 2004. Trey Parker and Matt Stone, the mad, potty-mouthed scientists responsible for South Park (and no doubt the few bright spots in Baseketball) have become the big screen's best alchemists for cinematic cliche, turning a Bruckheimer-esque action flick into a sharply observed odyssey into the American psyche using a cast comprised entirely of puppets. While other screenwriters, producers and directors, most notably Michael Bay and Jerry Bruckheimer (both of whom are liberally lampooned here), impose their values, political and otherwise, onto their on-screen counterparts in the guise of "putting a human face on a social issue," Parker and Stone revel in the plastic, familiar sameness of the marionettes and deliver the year's best movie message—namely, that everything is not only susceptible to parody, but in dire need of it.
The opening scene of Team America takes place in Paris, where the streets are literally lined with croissants, the Eiffel Tower is within tumbling distance of the Arc de Triomphe and language is a hodgepodge of gibberish and vaguely familiar French words; that Parker and Stone never try to "translate" the dialogue into each locale's native tongue is one of the film's many charms and reveals the thoroughly, comically "American" sense of world culture that dictates the geography of the film. Meanwhile the puppets, brilliantly enough, are never steered toward something resembling "real-life" behavior, but are instead adjusted hamfistedly, like a handful Barbie dolls being manipulated in your little sister's bedroom, and play directly to the shortcomings of their fluidity.
Under any other circumstances, the formulaic pabulum of the script would immediately mark the film for the top of the Hollywood trash heap, but Parker and Stone keep the jokes flying at such a fast clip that we hardly have time to register the fact that we've seen every one of these story points before. Clearly realizing that the joke wears thin on goofing with puppets, the script falls into a predictable rhythm as Gary rises, falls, and rises again (to the tune of "America ... F*ck Yeah!") but litters that framework with in-jokes and carefully executed set pieces (including a hysterically over-the-top chase through Egypt) that always excites as both facile entertainment and a skillful parody; the dialogue, the plot, the characters and even the music work in concert with one another to achieve a blistering comic tapestry.
