‘Coyote vs. Acme’ Review

Wile E. Coyote and Will Forte in Coyote vs. Acme. (Courtesy Ketchup Entertainment)

DAVID ZASLAV AND THE REST of the bean counters at Warner Bros. tried to drop an anvil on Coyote vs. Acme in 2023 in hopes of squashing it to obtain a quick tax writeoff. But, like the Acme products featured in this live-action/animation hybrid, it missed the target, rebounded, and smacked the suits right in the face.

I won’t torture this metaphor any further, but it’s worth highlighting if only because Coyote vs. Acme is one of those rare movies where the backstory is, arguably, more interesting than the film itself. Loosely based on a 36-year-old New Yorker humor column of the same name and shepherded into existence over the years by the now-head of DC Comics film production, James Gunn, the film was greenlit during the streaming boom that ushered HBO Max into existence. At a reported cost of around $70 million, Coyote vs. Acme is perfectly representative of a very weird moment in history, when studios were a.) strip-mining their intellectual property while b.) throwing theatrical budgets at streaming-first productions, only to c.) realize this was a terrible way to do business if you’re not named Netflix and don’t have streaming revenue of $12 billion a quarter.

As understanding of that last part kicked in, Zaslav and his number crunchers figured (probably correctly) that it made more sense to take a tax writeoff on these films rather than dumping them to streaming, the idea being that you’re not likely to generate more subscribers by airing it than the tens of millions in tax savings you’d make by killing it. So they unceremoniously dumped a Batgirl film and a Scooby-Doo film before spending millions on post-production. This led to some noisy but impotent complaints. But when Warner Bros. announced in late 2023 that Coyote vs. Acme was to meet the same fate—despite having been completed and being ready for release—the online masses went into open revolt. Eventually, indie distributor Ketchup Entertainment picked up the title for a reported $50 million and, at the end of this month, is releasing it in theaters.

Was it worth the wait?

I’m pleased to say that Coyote vs. Acme is cleverly constructed and features lots of fun little gags from both the worlds of law and Looney Tunes, though it is decidedly “clever chuckle” funny and rarely “laugh out loud” funny. Looney Tunes stalwart Wile E. Coyote has had enough of Acme products failing him in his efforts to capture the Road Runner. One too many times he’s had a magnetic glove attach itself to a missile or an oncoming semi; he’s tired of rocket-powered skates exploding on him or sending him skyward. And so, after seeing an ad from personal injury attorney Kevin Avery (Will Forte), he decides to sue the company.

Avery’s a penny-ante sort of guy, the type of lawyer who’d rather settle for a quick buck than mount an expensive suit against a corporation like Acme. After seeing Porky Pig get crushed by a wrecking ball in the film’s early going, he shouts to the pancaked porcine that he could “probably get you $250 for that.” So when Wile E. shows up with his defective rocket boots, Avery tells him something similar . . . an offer the coyote angrily rejects. He dumps out a box full of Acme products—like, cartoon full, hammerspace full—that piles up two stories high, demanding restitution for a lifetime of damage. Avery rejects the case, but his dogged intern/niece, Paige (Lana Condor), thinks there’s something big here, and eventually a filing the size of a phonebook lands on the desk of Acme superlawyer Buddy Crane (John Cena).

The company’s offer of $50,000—enough for Coyote to purchase a whole flock of birds to eat, as Avery points out—is rejected out of hand. Wile E. Coyote wants a trial. He wants the world to see what Acme has done. He wants a real payout. He wants . . . to get the Road Runner on the stand, stock still, easily captured, finally his, all his.

But if he’s going to win the trial, Avery will need to assemble a case, and that means unraveling the mystery at the heart of Acme. Why is this corporation so content to ship shoddy merchandise to the Looney Tunes? What has driven Daffy Duck so, well, daffy? Who is the mysterious deep throat running the town’s annual carrot festival who seems to have the inside scoop on what Dr. Lorre was up to in the bowels of the Acme labs? How many pianos can be dropped on one man’s car before he loses it?

Foghorn Leghorn and John Cena in Coyote vs. Acme. (Courtesy Ketchup Entertainment)

Coyote vs. Acme exists in the tradition of 1988’s Who Framed Roger Rabbit and 2022’s Chip ’n Dale: Rescue Rangers, a combo live-action/animated feature that contains, at its heart, a noirish mystery about the ways in which evil corporations abuse cartoons in the name of progress. Coyote vs. Acme is probably the least of these—slightly less madcap than the other two and certainly less visually audacious—but it’s still a lot of fun, and I imagine it’ll play well with kids and parents alike. There are lots of medium-cut Easter eggs for those of us who grew up with Tex Avery’s creations, and kids will love the wanton cartoon atrocities. Forte and Cena make a good hero/villain pairing, with Forte’s innate schlubbiness contrasting nicely with Cena’s square-cut jaw. They are, almost, real-life cartoons, albeit of very different archetypes.

I will be curious to see if audiences show up for this, given the rigmarole surrounding its production/release. After all, the internet is not real life: angry, loud folks couldn’t stop The Odyssey from being a big hit. But maybe they can help make Coyote vs. Acme a profitable proposition for Ketchup . . . and show Warner Bros. why it’s better to roll the dice with a release than trash your artistic output.