It comes as something of a surprise that a film aimed at the largely conservative fanbase of the Blue Collar Comedy group would so effectively highlight the intelligence failures of the United States armed forces in the midst of international crisis. Three sorry excuses for National Guard weekend warriors are deployed to Iraq; asleep in the cargo hold, they are inadvertently dropped when their flight requires a lightening of its excessively heavy load. The arid country they find themselves in come morning is that of Mexico, but seeing as this home-fried slab of satire largely deals in the naïveté held by American citizens, it takes an understandably long amount of time before our would-be heroes realize that they are, in fact, not in Iraq. The agony that stems from the thought of anyone confusing this clichéd portrayal of Mexico with a Middle Eastern country is less inherent in the film itself than the fact that such a mix-up could very well happen in our white-minded society.
This and other potentially offensive racial misdemeanors are rendered practically mute by the film’s limp comedic aspirations. The antics of the Blue Collar Comedy tour are regularly an embarrassment to behold, yet it is that very typicality of their aw-shucks routine that makes Delta Farce surprisingly inoffensive—not to mention entirely forgettable. That the entire thing more or less passes off our post-9/11 world as No Big Deal might be of greater concern if the film were intent on furthering the stupidity it showcases; rather, it lovingly skewers it, lazily lampooning American’s ignorance of their own political conflicts with a lived-in sense of acceptance. This is disheartening, for sure, but Delta Farce is notably merciful in its guileless approach to its own blistering idiocy.
The film’s patchwork of plot devices is oddly appropriate given its impossibly moronic, prejudice-ridden characters, but like its empty references to Apocalypse Now, Delta Farce is a film largely defined by its inability to truly understand the meaning or scope of its chosen subject matter. The absence of Ron White ensures this feature’s family-friendly stamp of approval (PG-13 rating notwithstanding, nothing here would be out of place in a Jeff Foxworthy “you might be a redneck if” routine), and while the film touches base on plenty of mature topics in its scattershot attempts at jokes, none of its lazy slapstick can be taken even remotely seriously through a political or cultural lens. Rednecks and queers alike are among the film’s targets, and while the ramshackle narrative and many pointless comedic cul-de-sacs suggest an unrated DVD just begging to be released, this theatrical outing is a positively neutered affair, unlikely to offend—or thrill—virtually anyone.