Las Vegas Weekly

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There’s something simultaneously attractive and revolting about David Koechner’s style of comedy. With his jaw and chest jutting out like a broken finger, Koechner has been creating some of the screen’s most uncomfortably type-A personalities of the last 15 years: Champ Kind, the chauvinist sports reporter of Anchorman: The Legend of Ron Burgundy, who, while confessing his admiration of Ron, descends into an uber-creepy admission of “I miss your musk”; the beyond-sexist Todd Packer of NBC’s The Office, who gets cut off before he can finish bragging about his “nine-inch ...”; and Clay in Run Ronnie Run, a white trash reject whose penchant for getting drunk and crashing things escalates his injuries from crutches to a wheelchair and Stephen Hawking-type voice device by movie’s end.

You root for none of these men, but you’re also drawn to their total lack of redeeming qualities. That’s a special kind of talent, and Koechner brings it to town this weekend.