“I’m not listening to Papa fucking Roach on the day I kill myself,” Val tells his best friend, Kevin , in On the Count of Three. The two are, in the immortal words of Jacoby Shaddix, contemplating suicide. That makes it way too cheesy, Val reasons, to queue up “Last Resort,” the Y2K self-harm anthem Kevin cranks for mood music.
It’s no easy task, pulling laughs from suicidal ideation. But Carmichael, the comedian who directs the film as well as stars in it , is up to the challenge. His defunct NBC vehicle, The Carmichael Show, often tackled hot-button issues through the conventions of the traditional three-camera sitcom, smuggling provocative conversation onto network TV. As written by that show’s co-creator, Ari Katcher, and by Ryan Welch, On the Count of Three has a similar Trojan horse design.
On the Count of Three has the loose shape of a one-crazy-day farce, but its incidents tend to be unsentimental and anticlimactic. Most of the movie is just the two friends driving around, shooting the shit, occasionally bumbling into trouble. The gags can be mordant: When Val tries to hang himself in the bathroom of the mulch plant where he works, he’s interrupted by a chipper co-worker singing a country song about it being a good day to be alive.
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