Dear Seth MacFarlane ...

You’re no Mel Brooks: “A Million Ways to Die” in the West rides a lame horse

I’m not a “Family Guy” fan. Or an “American Dad” fan. And I haven’t seen “The Cleveland Show” due to my general ambivalence towards their creator, Seth MacFarlane. His modus operandi: repackaging decades-old pop culture references into overly obvious, hacky punchlines. Dick and fart jokes still make me laugh (I’m 43 years old), but they have to be inventive, or at least be given a witty context, in order to connect.

Then “Ted” came along and got me thinking that, maybe, I had MacFarlane all wrong. Sure, the pop culture shtick was still there but it was mostly organic and weightier than his typical routine. The scatology was firmly in place, though well-played amongst sympathetic characters and delivered by a strong comedic cast including Mark Walhberg, Mila Kunis, and Giovanni Ribisi. Besides, I have to love any movie about a stoner teddy bear who snorts fat rails with Flash Gordon. “Ted” was funny and weirdly endearing, the only real requirements I have of any comedy.

So when I saw the red-band trailer for MacFarlane’s directorial follow up, “A Million Ways to Die in the West,” the chuckles were initially reassuring.  

Placing himself firmly in front of (and behind) the camera, Seth MacFarlane portrays Albert, an expat sheep farmer in Arizona. It’s 1882 and Albert hates the Wild West. Everything in it can (or wants) to kill him and he’s lost the love of his life (Amanda Seyfried) to a smarmy, mustache-accessory salesman (Neil Patrick Harris). He’s befriended by the wildly hot Charlize Theron, who conveniently shows up to help Albert stick it to his ex and teach him marksmanship in time for his inventible duel with NPH, and she even falls for Albert in the process. 

Unfortunately, Theron is married to Liam Neeson’s Clinch Leatherwood, the meanest outlaw and deadliest sharpshooter in the West. The hapless Albert, torn between two women and a sense of self-preservation, is forced to stop being a total pussy.

You won’t find anachronistic-yet-satirical nods to forgotten Western tropes here (2011’s “Rango” did that so much better) as much as an anachronistic Seth MacFarlane in practically every scene, indulging himself as he mugs his way through repetitive jokes that involve Albert getting knocked on his ass or people randomly getting killed while Albert comments on how often that shit happens. There’s a threadbare running gag involving Sarah Silverman and Ribisi as a devout Christian couple who are waiting for sex until marriage even though she’s a very busy prostitute. Ribisi briefly channels his dance moves from “Ted,” which is the cinematic equivalent of hearing a sophomore band playing a new song that wants to remind you of their only hit single. 

A series of blink-and-you’ll-miss-them cameos from Ewan McGregor and Ryan Reynolds (among others) are weirdly superfluous, as if their brevity were meant to be the joke. Oklahoman Wes Studi appears as a stereotypical, peyote-peddling Native chief. I hope Studi wasn’t doing just an impression of the language, though I’m guessing he was (unless “Mila Kunis” is a phrase). If the film was made by Trey Parker and Matt Stone, they might have cast Ken Watanabe instead—probably still offensive, though (arguably) a more clever comment on the careless whitewashing of Native culture. But “Cannibal: The Musical” or “Blazing Saddles” this isn’t. It’s not even “Lust in the Dust.”

The rapport between MacFarlane (who is, essentially, an amiable guy) and Theron is the sole element that propels the film through its overlong runtime. A couple of scenes that weren’t in the trailers did get a chuckle out me. And Neeson is having enough fun to almost make the wait for the end seem worthwhile. The location photography in the iconic Monument Valley is often striking.

But there are variations on maybe three decent jokes in this flick, and they wear themselves thin the first time around. “A Million Ways to Die in the West” is short 999,997 reasons to exist.