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Director Barry Sonnenfeld is serious about making us laugh.

In such movies as Men in Black, Big Trouble, The Addams Family and his new R.V., he has taught himself that amusing audiences isn’t just about the joke. It’s about timing other characters’ reactions to the joke, repeating a bit in new contexts so it becomes funnier each time we encounter it, underselling a joke so we decide if it’s funny rather than having the actors force it down our throats.

I’m thinking of a scene in R.V. where a gigantic trailer runs over two parked cars. Some directors would kill the joke by harping on the whole glass-shattering smashfest, but Sonnenfeld knows it’s funnier to show the actors’ reactions instead and then cut to two wafer-thin vehicles.

There’s also a great bit in which Robin Williams tries to work a recalcitrant seat belt. It goes on forever and keeps getting funnier, especially since it’s punctuated by a shot of his wiseguy kid, staring in blank disbelief at the dad who’s about to drive him cross country in a rented recreational vehicle but who can’t operate the simplest device on board.

It would be a disservice to R.V. to rave too much because it’s not perfect. It is, essentially, an unacknowledged remake of National Lampoon’s Vacation, in which a squabbling family figures they’ll get all huggy if they take an extended vacation that forces them to squabble in close quarters, 24-7.

With a waste-disposal bit, a scatalogical nickname for the vehicle and several cases of stomach distress, way too much of the humour is fecal. Sonnenfeld cast an actress in a small role who kept making me write, “Who is this awkward girl?” in my notebook, only to realize when the credits rolled that it’s the director’s daughter. And I don’t need to see Robin Williams say, “Yo, dawg” ever again.

Still, R.V. walks a tricky and entertaining line. All the family members are gifted in sarcasm, and they’re openly mean to a family of do-gooders (Jeff Daniels and Kristen Chenoweth are a hoot as the sadistically chipper parents). But their humour is sharp (staring in disbelief at the arid parking lot where they’re spending the night, Williams’ daughter says, “We’re where NASA faked the moon landing!”). And they have an affectionate ease with each other, despite the occasional hostility, that feels right.

It’s as if R.V. is saying, “Of course, you make fun of the members of your own family because, after everyone stops laughing, you know they’re still going to be your family.”

So, should you go? It’s vicarious fun. And, with gas prices this summer, who’s going to be able to afford this sort of road trip?[[In-content Ad]]

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