MY BLUEBERRY NIGHTS
Rating: *** ½ (out of ****)
Cast: Norah Jones, Jude Law, David Strathairn, Rachel Weisz, Natalie Portman
Writer: Wong Kar-wai, Lawrence Block
Director: Wong Kar-wai
Now playing at the Varsity.

Wong Kar-wai’s My Blueberry Nights is a very good Wong Kar-wai movie. This caught me by surprise. Of all living directors, there is almost nobody I admire more than Wong, whose Hong Kong films, including 2046, In the Mood for Love, and Chungking Express are beautifully photographed, and emotionally rich mood pieces about love, loss, and longing. He has made around a half dozen of the finest films ever made in any language and has won a shelf full of international awards, but when My Blueberry Nights premiered as the opening night film in 2007’s Cannes Film Festival, it met with critical apathy. Now, almost a full year later, it is finally opening in a halfhearted limited release with 20 minutes trimmed off by Wong (the extended version is playing in other territories – hopefully it will be made available on DVD), and with the critical tone having been set at Cannes, few critics have found many nice things to say about it.

I walked into My Blueberry Nights expecting the worst. Apart from the critical jeers, I feared that Wong may have taken his distinctive style as far as it could go with the ambitious 2046, a “summation” of all his previous work, as Wong put it. And how would he survive the trip over the Pacific? Many critics have complained that Wong has a tin ear for English dialogue. But surprise - My Blueberry Nights is a wonderful film, and one that confirms by belief that Wong is one of the contemporary giants of cinema, no matter what language he’s working in.

Norah Jones, in her acting debut, plays Elizabeth, a heartbroken woman (there seem to be no other kind in Wong’s world) who, after a painful break-up, finds herself in a café in Soho, New York, where she strikes up a friendship with the owner, a British expatriate named Jeremy (Jude Law). She makes frequent visits back to the café, always at closing time, to talk to Jeremy and eat a piece of blueberry pie, the only one of Jeremy’s pastries that hasn’t been finished by then. Jeremy, also suffering from a broken heart, begins longing for Elizabeth, but without announcement, she heads on a meandering cross-country journey.

The second act is set in Memphis, where Elizabeth works two jobs: a family restaurant by day, a seamy bar by night. At the bar, she meets Arnie (David Strathairn), a middle-aged drunkard perpetually celebrating “his last day of drinking” and pining for his own separated wife, Sue Lynne (Rachel Weisz). In the third act, Elizabeth befriends professional poker player Leslie (Natalie Portman). Together, they travel to Las Vegas, while Leslie’s complicated relationship with her father becomes increasingly clearer. All throughout, Elizabeth continues writing postcards to Jeremy, who desperately wants to see her again.

Some critics have said that Wong’s English dialogue is stilted. I disagree. It’s certainly not the sort of pseudo-naturalistic talking you’d find in most mainstream movies, but then, I don’t think his Cantonese dialogue was exactly realist either, nor do I think that’s his intention. His dialogue is more poetic and lightly stylized, and I often found it quite beautiful. Others have said that his depiction of New York is out of touch with reality, to which I say, well, duh! Wong’s versions of New York, Connecticut, Las Vegas, and the Arizona desert are heavily romanticized versions of their real-life counterparts, as if he was trying to visualize these places as we’d like to see them. Jeremy’s café and its surrounding streets and subways are particularly beautiful, and made me want to hop on a plane and visit Soho.

A renowned visual stylist, Wong is working for the first time with cinematographer Darius Khondji (Se7en, Funny Games) after years with Christopher Doyle. Khondji’s photography is dominated by neon blues and greens in the Soho scenes and luscious reds in the Memphis section, and his frequent use of close-ups and step-framing (a favourite device of Wong’s) make this one of Wong’s most beautiful films, and one of his most visually intimate. Wong and Khondji’s visual strategy includes long, lingering shots of their attractive cast’s faces. During one such shot of Norah Jones asleep on a café counter, as the camera soaks in her beauty, I realized that Wong wants his audience to feel love for his characters – not lust, but love. Mike Lasalle of the San Francisco Chronicle, on of the film’s supporters, wrote, “He’s committed to replicating, in visual terms, what it’s like to feel passion. Wong invites you to fall in love, not with a particular woman, but with love itself and with a specific moment in time.” Exactly.

Norah Jones, making her acting debut, exists as a catalyst for the action, and as a figure for viewers to insert their own conception of love. She is not the most comfortable of actors, and her role is the least developed of the central characters, but she does fine. The rest of the ensemble – Jude Law, David Strathairn, Rachel Weisz, and Natalie Portman – fit perfectly within the context of a Wong Kar-wai film. Strathairn is particularly excellent: his low-key delivery and slightly nasal voice, combined with the weathered details of his face, hint at a character with a virtual ocean of sadness underneath.

If 2046 was the summation of Wong’s career, maybe he intended My Blueberry Nights to introduce his career to a broader international audience. Devotees of his work will enjoy spotting references to his past films. The theme music from In the Mood for Love plays over one scene, while Portman’s card shark is an American version of Gong Li’s character from 2046, and I think the final scene owes a lot to the conclusion of Chungking Express. (Incidentally, the blueberry pies of this film might be stand-ins for the pineapple cans of Express).

But despite these references, My Blueberry Nights may be Wong’s most accessible film to date for non-fans. What Wong has done is take his signature style and transplanted it to an American setting. And far from repeating himself, Wong’s style has become richer, more sensual, and more satisfying as the years go by. Critics who chastise Wong for not conforming to some unwritten rules of how American films are supposed to be made are missing out by refusing to embrace the beautiful, self-contained, and completely original universe that Wong has created in this film and others. If you’ve enjoyed Wong’s films in the past, I can’t understand why you wouldn’t enjoy this. If you’re unfamiliar with his work, this is a great place to start.

IRON MAN
Rating: ** ½ (out of ****)
Cast: Robert Downey Jr., Terrence Howard, Gwyneth Paltrow, Jeff Bridges, Stan Lee
Writers: Mark Fergus, Hawk Ostby, Art Marcum, Matt Holloway
Director: Jon Favreau
Now playing at every single movie theatre in the known universe.

Robert Downey Jr. has often been called one of the greatest actors of his generation for his quirky, off-the-wall performances. I’m not sure I agree. He showed astonishing promise by disappearing in the title role of Chaplin, but since then he seems to always play a variation on the same character. My appreciation for him hit rock bottom in Zodiac, a performance I found so distracting and aggressively mannered that it seriously hindered my appreciation for the film.

Now, Downey is back in Iron Man, playing yet another mannered, quirky smart-ass, and yet he’s the film’s biggest asset. His certainly doesn’t break any new ground, but in the middle of a conventional $180 million blockbuster, it’s a breath of fresh air much in the same way that Johnny Depp’s Captain Jack Sparrow was in the first Pirates of the Caribbean. He has an anarchic spirit, making Groucho-esque wisecracks about the action set pieces and technology around him. I wasn’t surprised to learn that he re-wrote much of his own dialogue.

Iron Man currently holds a 94% approval rating among critics on Rotten Tomatoes. No other comic book character has ever scored higher: not Batman, not Superman, not Spiderman. Some critics have charitably described this as one of the “smarter” summer blockbusters of late. I think this is attributable to the fact that the film’s first act is set in the Middle East. Following nearly a year of high-profile flops, how fascinating that the last two weeks have seen the release of back-to-back commercially viable post-9/11 films. (The fact that the only two commercially viable post-9/11 films to date have been Iron Man and Harold and Kumar Escape from Guantanamo Bay says less about the films and more about filmgoers).

Anyway, in the Middle East, millionaire playboy arms manufacturer Tony Stark is being held captive by evil, evil terrorists. The terrorists want him to build a missile that they can use for their various evil terrorist activities, but when they’re not looking, Tony makes a prototype iron man suit instead. The suit, which is extraordinarily technologically advanced for something that was cobbled together from some spare parts in a cave, is then used to blast dozens of terrorists to their (slightly sadistic) deaths. But while in the Middle East, Tony makes an alarming discovery: his arms company has been making under-the-table deals with terrorist groups. Disgusted, Tony announces plans to cease all weapons production at Stark Industries. Evil terrorists, under-the-table deals, and a noble corporate executive; if this is what passes for intelligence and social consciousness in the summer movie season, the movie industry is in worse shape than I thought.

Tony spends time making and perfecting his Iron Man suit in a story structure not a million miles away from Batman Begins. Meanwhile, his business partner Obadiah (Jeff Bridges) turns out to be really evil, revolting on Tony’s no-weapons policy by researching the secrets of the Iron Man suit, with the intention of creating a new, powerful weapon to profit from. I thought he lost control of his evil plan around that time that he started terrorizing the city in the suit, tossing cars and killing police officers. No plot synopsis would be complete without mention of the unfortunately named ‘Pepper’ Pots (Gwyneth Paltrow), Tony’s butler and love interest; she’s like a younger, more female version of Batman’s Alfred. Terrence Howard gets second billing as Tony’s best friend. Good god, I hope he gets something to do in the sequel.

What Iron Man does, it does with an admirable level of competence. The special effects are uniformly excellent, and the action scenes are well done (although I question the moral justification behind the rather enthusiastic terrorist-slaughter). The script, while not exactly “smart” and containing some fairly gaping holes, moves along at an admirable clip. Perhaps I didn’t respond enthusiastically to Iron Man because of the unreasonable expectations its overwhelming critical praise set. I also suspect the inevitable Iron Man II will be more enjoyable; the problem with origin stories is that before the audience can get what it paid for, they have to sit through a lot of set-up. Yet in the midst of this fairly routine film is Downey, who seems indifferent and at most mildly amused by the action spectacle around him. What an interesting choice.

NOTE: Be sure to stay after the credits.

THE FORBIDDEN KINGDOM
Rating: ** ½ (out of ****)
Cast: Jackie Chan, Jet Li, Michael Angarano, Crystal Liu, Collin Chou, Li Bing Bing
Director: Rob Minkoff
Opening in wide release on April 18.

According to the Internet Movie Database, Jackie Chan has appeared in ninety-four movies (including bit parts and stunt work), and Jet Li has been in thirty-nine. Together, they are undoubtedly the two most internationally famous Asian actors working today, and the only two truly financially viable Asian actors in Hollywood. Yet astonishingly enough, The Forbidden Kingdom represents their first screen appearance together. It’s the kung fu equivalent of when Charlie Chaplin and Buster Keaton acted together in Limelight.

Something you should know going in, though: a lot of this movie is about some white kid. The white kid in question is Jason (Michael Angarano), who enjoys going to a store in Chinatown run by kindly old Hop (Jackie Chan, in old age makeup) to buy bootleg kung fu DVDs. Catching wind of this, the local bullies make Jason help them rob Hop’s store, but during the frenzy, Jason grabs hold of an ancient Chinese staff that transports him back in time to ancient China.

Okay, stay with me, because it gets better. In ancient China, Jason meets Lu Yan (Jackie Chan, again), an immortal kung fu master who speaks English, conveniently enough. Lu Yan can only remain an immortal kung fu master, however, if he drinks plenty of wine. Casting Chan (who became a star with 1978’s Drunken Master) as a kung fu master who needs wine to fight is like casting Robert De Niro as a taxi driver. Lu Yan reveals that the staff once belonged to the Monkey King (Jet Li), who has been trapped in stone by the evil Jade Warlord (Collin Chou). The only way to free the Monkey King is by returning the staff. They’re joined on their journey to the Monkey King by another kung fu master, Silent Monk (Jet Li, again).

As stupid as that plot description sounds, it flows fairly well on the screen, in a comic book sort of way. The Forbidden Kingdom is at its best when it’s just trying to be dumb fun. There are some really enjoyable action sequences that, while not exactly thrilling, are at least fun to look at, with their bright colours and heavy use of computer generated effects. The climactic battle scene, which is like an orgy of supernatural martial arts kitsch, is very entertaining. Fans of kung fu movies will enjoy spotting references to older martial arts films, not just Drunken Master but also The Bride With White Hair, the Shaw Brothers canon, and some pop philosophy that I’m pretty sure was taken word-for-word from some old Bruce Lee interview footage. I could have done with a little less of the Karate Kid rip-off shenanigans with Angarano. The present-day bookend scenes feel like they come out of a bad after-school special. (My favourite part was when one of the bullies called Angarano a “pissant”). I assume Angarano’s character was meant to appeal to family audiences, or else he was included to reassure North Americans that yes, this is indeed an American film.

But anyone who’s paying to see The Forbidden Kingdom has come for two reasons: Jet and Jackie. Does it work on that basis? Yeah, pretty much. The two kung fu titans are both “good guys” here, but they do get one Yuen Woo-Ping-choreographed fight together that lasts at least five minutes and generally satisfies the appetite for some Jackie vs. Jet whoop-ass. Separately, both of them remain enjoyable screen presences. Chan in particular is fun to watch here: his performance is reminiscent of the cheeky, rascally Jackie Chan of the 1970s and 80s. The Forbidden Kingdom is not a return to the glory days of Once Upon a Time in China and Drunken Master II, but it’s still Jet Li and Jackie Chan. As far as I’m concerned, that’s worth the price of admission.

YOUNG @ HEART
Rating: *** ½ (out of ****)
Cast: Bob Cilman, Eileen Hall, Fred Knittle, Joe Benoit, Bob Salvini, Joseph Mitchell, Helen Boston, Bob Salvini
Director: Stephen Walker
Opening Friday in limited release.

Young @ Heart is a senior’s singing group from North Hampton of the type you might see in those ‘inspiration’ last five minutes of a news broadcast. The group’s claim to fame is that they sing pop/rock and roll songs, including “Should I Stay Or Should I Go?”, “Stayin’ Alive,” and “I Will Survive,” and have become something of a YouTube sensation with their humorous music videos. They’ve played sell-out concerts as far away as Europe, and now they’re the subject of a documentary being released by Fox Searchlight. Keep in mind that nobody in the group particularly likes rock and roll. When asked about their favourite music, most of the members say opera or Broadway musicals like My Fair Lady.

Before I saw the film, I was worried is would use its geriatric heroes as a freak show attraction (“Ha ha, these people are so old!”). Instead, director Stephen Walker’s film broke down every wall of critical snobbery I had. This film is a real crowd-pleaser

Young @ Heart documents two months in which the group rehearses for a new show, under the leadership of their ever-patient chorus director, Bob Cilman (age 53), who in the film plays the role of patient but exasperated foil to the band. Cilman has selected several songs for the show, including Sonic Youth’s “Schizophrenia,” James Brown’s “I Feel Good,” Allen Toussaint’s “Yes We Can Can,” and Coldplay’s “Fix You.” The latter song is a solo number for Fred Knittle and Bob Salvini, two ailing former members planning to make a brief comeback, and this duet forms the emotional centre of the film. There are lots of funny moments with the group stumbling to wrap their heads around the other rock songs, but there’s also the satisfaction in watching people learn to understand and appreciate music they once dismissed.

Young @ Heart is about getting old, dying, and broadening one’s horizons. The film is a real charmer, but it’s also emotionally satisfying. It’s funny but not snide, and moving but not manipulative. It has the potential to be a sleeper hit.

HAROLD & KUMAR ESCAPE FROM GUANTANAMO BAY
Rating: *** (out of ****)
Cast: John Cho, Kal Penn, Rob Corddry, Neil Patrick Harris, Paula Garces, Roger Bart
Writers: Jon Hurwitz, Hayden Schlossberg
Director: Jon Hurwitz, Hayden Schlossberg
Opening in wide release on April 25th.

You won’t find a movie all year with a better title than Harold & Kumar Escape from Guantanamo Bay. I actually laughed out loud the first time I heard it. The film is the sequel to the 2004 stoner comedy Harold & Kumar Go to White Castle, in which a serious Asian student named Harold (John Cho) and his slacker Indian roommate Kumar (Kal Penn) get the munchies and embark on an all-night odyssey to find a White Castle hamburger outlet. The film was rude and uneven, but its occasional commentary on the place of minorities in America made it a modest cut above the usual stoner fare.

The reason that Harold & Kumar Escape from Guantanamo Bay is such a great title is that it ups the ante. There’s a sly, silly anarchy to the title that promises a film fearless in its complete outrageousness – no subject is taboo, no scenario is too implausible. Harold & Kumar Escape from Guantanamo Bay delivers on that promise: this movie is better than the original in every way. It’s funnier, more ambitious, and completely over the top.

The film picks up right after the events of White Castle, with Harold and Kumar returning from their burger binge and preparing to head to Amsterdam to find the girl Harold has fallen in love with. When Kumar sneaks a bong onto the plane, however, it gets mistaken for a bomb, and after being interrogated by an arrogant CIA agent (Rob Corddry), the pair winds up in Gitmo. Faced with the unfortunate possibility of having to perform sexual favours on the guards, Harold and Kumar escape and hitch a ride with some Cubans on a raft to America. Once there, they head to Texas to find Harold’s college friend (“an Abercrombie-wearing douchebag,” says Kumar) who has a personal relationship with George W. Bush in hopes of clearing their names. Unfortunately, the “douchebag” is marrying Kumar’s beloved former girlfriend.

John Cho and Kal Penn (who was recently put to good use in a rare dramatic role in The Namesake) are a really enjoyable comic team, and Neil Patrick Harris is back playing a whore-loving, drug-addicted version of himself - a character that won him an unlikely cult following after the first film. The biggest laughs, however, come from The Daily Show’s Rob Corddry, playing an obnoxiously racist CIA official. In one of the film’s best scenes, when interrogating two Jewish witnesses, he pulls out a small bag of coins and waves it in front of them. “That’s like, seven bucks,” says a witness.

Like the original film, the new Harold & Kumar is not a masterpiece of plot construction. It’s extremely episodic, and the majority of its comic set pieces could probably be removed without doing significant damage to the plot. The gags are hit and miss, but they hit more often than not. The original Harold & Kumar received some critical praise for the way it touched on issues of ethnic stereotyping, but the new film kicks the political satire up a notch. There’s a strong undercurrent of righteous anger underneath this film: it’s a reaction to an American government that the filmmakers perceive as not caring about different cultures and civil rights. It’s nice to see a commercially viable gross-out comedy that has some political consciousness, intelligence, and, most importantly, teeth.

Before you rush out to see Harold & Kumar, keep in mind that this film is not Jonathan Swift: most of the humour is pretty crude. But if you’re buying a ticket to see Harold & Kumar Escape from Guantanamo Bay, odds are you’re expecting to see Harold and Kumar, not Wes Anderson or Woody Allen. Rest assured, this is a good Harold and Kumar movie. Part of the reason this movie is so much fun is because unlike so many other gross-out comedies, it knows that disgusting imagery is much less funny than the characters’ reactions to the disgusting imagery. There’s a lot of comedic skill on display here.

SHINE A LIGHT
Rating: *** (out of ****)
Cast: Mick Jagger, Keith Richards, Ron Wood, Charlie Watts, Christina Aguilera, Jack White, Buddy Guy, Bill Clinton, Martin Scorsese
Director: Martin Scorsese
Now playing in moderate wide release and in Imax.

The experience of seeing Martin Scorsese’s Rolling Stones concert film Shine a Light proved to be an instructive one, as it led me to the realization that I’m less of a Stones fan than I thought I was. Oh, sure, I like hearing “Sympathy for the Devil” and “Gimme Shelter” as much as anybody, but while watching Shine a Light, I began to wonder why the world is supposedly divided into “Stones fans” and “Beatles fans” – it’s hardly a contest. The Stones are hardly in the same league as the more innovative, experimental Beatles. Shine a Light, which captures the Stones at a September 2006 benefit concert for the Clinton Foundation in New York’s Beacon Theatre, runs 122 minutes. After about an hour, I was ready to go home.

Okay, so we have established that I am only a fair-weather Rolling Stones fan. This does not detract from Martin Scorsese’s achievements with Shine a Light, which are considerable: complaining that a Rolling Stones movie has too much of the Stones would be a pretty moronic position to take. If you’re in the market for a Rolling Stones concert film, Scorsese’s movie is everything you could want.

The film opens with a few minutes of black and white documentary footage about the events surrounding the concert and the film, including footage of Scorsese fretting about the playlist (the band more or less makes it up as they go along) and Bill Clinton introducing the Stones (“One of my birthday presents this year is being able to open for the Rolling Stones,” he says). Then comes the concert, which takes of the lion’s share of the film, and which is comprised of over fifteen of the band’s greatest hits. Interspersed between the songs is archival footage from the band’s nearly fifty-year history. One particularly interesting interview is of an impossibly young Mick Jagger on the band’s third anniversary, marveling that they’ve achieved such success. When asked how long they’ll stay together, he optimistically predicts, “Oh, I think we’re pretty well set for at least another year.”

Shine of Light is a technical masterpiece. Scorsese has assembled a team of ten cinematographers, all of them Oscar nominees or winners, who capture the event with startling immediacy and intensity. Energetic songs like “Jumping Jack Flash” are filmed with frantic zooms and quick cuts, becoming an impressionistic blur of light and sound. Calmer songs like “As Tears Go By” are shot more sedately but no less expertly. There are also three guest stars (Jack White, Christina Aguilera and Buddy Guy), and whenever one of them shares a microphone with Mick Jagger, the camera zooms in so impossibly close that you can see the spit and the sweat with crystal clarity on the Imax screen.

This is one of the only concert films I can think of to have truly memorable imagery. The opening documentary scenes are seen as a small square in the middle of the screen, but when the concert footage begins, it expands to occupy the entire Imax screen, an effect that brings about the same sense of wonder that I suspect audiences must have felt in the 1950s when the movie narrator exclaimed, “This is Cinerama!” Another high point comes when “Sympathy for the Devil” begins and Jagger emerges from the back door of the theatre as a red silhouette against a blinding white background.

After a while, it became sensory overload for me. I left the theatre with my ears ringing and a slight headache. But if you like the Stones, you’ll be in heaven. Shine a Light is the next best thing to seeing them live.

LEATHERHEADS
Rating: ** (out of ****)
Cast: George Clooney, Renee Zellweger, John Krasinski, Jonathan Pryce, Stephen Root, Wayne Duvall, Max Cassella
Writers: Duncan Brantley, Rick Reilly
Director: George Clooney
Now playing in wide release.

Oh, how the 1920s always look so beautiful in Hollywood period pieces. The films are always lighted with rich amber hues and scored to the music of Al Jolson. Everyone wears fedoras and tailored suits; the speakeasies have great jazz singers and fistfights that don’t look too painful; and the cars are shiny and the streets are always clean. The 1920s are the setting of George Clooney’s third directorial effort, Leatherheads. The movie is long and only fitfully amusing, but boy…it sure looks great.

Clooney is Jimmy “Dodge” Connelly, the captain of the not-very-talented Bulldogs football team. The team is on the verge of collapse when Carter Rutherford (John Krasinski), a decorated war hero, emerges as the most popular figure in college football. Dodge convinces his superiors to recruit Carter, who brings in thousands of fans to the bleachers. But there’s trouble afoot beyond the gridiron: an ambitious sports reporter (Renee Zellwegger) has heard that Carter may not be the war hero he’s cracked up to be. Of course, a love triangle ensues.

Clooney, who has appeared in several of the Coen brothers’ comedies, seems to be channeling the Coens’ comic sensibility. He fills Leatherheads will a lot of broad, cartoonlike characters and self-conscious references to past films, particularly the work of Spencer Tracey, Katherine Hepburn, and the screwball comedies of the 1930s and 40s. The humour shifts between aggressively quirky visual gags (one of the football team members is a 300-pound highschooler, ho ho) and aggressively witty dialogue, as when Clooney and Zellweger have scenes of rapid-fire comic banter. Clooney is an enjoyable actor and has decent comic timing, but Renee Zellweger is miscast. Her role calls for a ballsy, Rosalind Russell type, and Zellweger, whose screen persona is usually much more low key, isn’t up to the task. John Krasinski, from The Office, is pure vanilla in a very vanilla role.

Leatherheads runs an ungainly 114 minutes, at least 20 minutes longer than the average screwball comedy. The climactic football scene feels drawn-out, particularly since it comes after the logical climactic scene. When a story has so little substance, is it too much to ask that it wrap up after 90 minutes?

Leatherheads wants to bring back memories of the screwball comedies from the 1930s, but where those films felt spontaneous, this film is posturing. It’s as if Clooney wanted to emulate the older films but also show that he’s too cool for them by constantly winking at the camera and having his cast overact. The insincerity of Leatherheads becomes quite alienating. Light entertainment has rarely felt this exhausting. Yet it’s hard to hate Leatherheads. There is something about Clooney’s screen presence that’s kind of seductive, even in a performance that doesn’t quite work. There’s also something seductive about the film’s hyper-fetishized depiction of the 1920s. Even the mud on the football field looks beautiful. A lot of skilled technicians have done a very good job creating this cinematic wax museum.

RUN FATBOY RUN
Rating: ** 1/2 (out of ****)
Cast: Simon Pegg, Thandie Newton, Hank Azaria, Dylan Moran
Writers: Michael Ian Black, Simon Pegg
Director: David Schwimmer
Opening Friday in wide release.

When interviewed about his show Fawlty Towers, John Cleese was asked why the audience would invariably side with Basil Fawlty, the rude, bigoted hotel owner who was the show’s protagonist. Cleese answered that it was because audiences feel loyalty to the characters that make them laugh. He cited W.C. Fields as another example of an actor who played irredeemable characters yet was still won audience approval.

In the tradition of Basil Fawlty and W.C. Fields comes Dennis, the hero of Run Fatboy Run, played by Simon Pegg from Shaun of the Dead and Hot Fuzz. Dennis is a born loser who five years ago on his wedding day had a breakdown and left his pregnant fiancée Libby (Thandie Newton) at the altar. Five years later, working as a security guard and living in a crummy basement apartment, he mournfully regrets his decision, and pines to be reunited with Libby. But Libby has found a new man in Whit (Hank Azaria), a millionaire and jogging enthusiast. As a last-ditch attempt to win over his former love, Dennis announces that he will run the London marathon, despite the fact that he is completely out of shape and has never done anything so ambitious in his life.

There is no reason to side with Dennis. He did a terrible thing to his fiancée, and it should be obvious that Whit is the better man. But dammit… Whit’s just too self-absorbed, humourless, and, well, perfect. This movie pulls of the tricky feat of making us side with Dennis, the self-absorbed guy who at least makes us laugh.

This movie is like an old Abbott and Costello or Jerry Lewis vehicle where the plot is secondary to providing a showcase for the star. The script, credited to Pegg and Michael Ian Black, makes some halfhearted attempts at spoofing underdog films like Rocky, but falls victim to the same clichés that plague the films it mocks. Things get particularly dire during the final few scenes, a contrived trip to cornytown. Though the film’s Toronto Film Festival pedigree and modest 1,000-screen release would indicate a film with independent/art house spirit, Run Fatboy Run is a popcorn romantic comedy of the most mainstream kind.

But the film has its good points, not least the performances by Pegg, Azaria, and Dylan Moran, from the TV show Black Books, who plays Pegg’s best friend. Also surprisingly effective is the direction by David Schwimmer. Yes, that David Schwimmer. Apart from a few shorts and some episodes of Friends and Joey, this is his directorial debut, and he acquits himself admirably. This type of sitcom material is normally saddled with a pedestrian visual style, but Schwimmer’s relatively gritty handheld aesthetic mixes well with the lower middle class locations that Pegg inhabits. Schwimmer directs the material as if it were drama – a smart move, since we all know the first rule of comedy is not to stress to the audience that the material is FUNNY.

Run Fatboy Run has some good laughs and moves along briskly and efficiently, and in Pegg it has an excellent comic actor who deserves to be a major North American star. What the film does it does competently, and should you choose to see it, you’ll be entertained. But after the ingenuity of Hot Fuzz, there’s a shade of disappointment in seeing Pegg in such a routine enterprise. This film will be right at home when it shows up on TV.