The Goat (1921)

This is a middle-of-the-pack Buster Keaton short for me, in no small part because he had so many stellar ones.  Although it possesses some really inventive bits and wonderfully funny moments, the cohesiveness is a bit thin and meandering.

A down-on-his-luck Buster (I wonder how many of his shorts start with that description?) is really in for it when a bad case of wrong-place-wrong-time ends up putting his face on someone else’s wanted poster.  All of the sudden, he’s believed to be notorious murderer Dead Shot Dan, with a $5000 price on his head.  We’ve got bread line misunderstandings, creative cop evasion, tricky train maneuvers, a pretty girl with a little dog, and top-notch elevator gags.

Like The High Sign, the throughline of this short doesn’t quite feel organic.  Instead of the gags building and coming effortlessly to a head, it’s a bit willy-nilly.  Very funny – don’t get me wrong – but it feels more like 20 minutes of terrific gags than a well-crafted comedic short.  For instance, it stands to reason that Buster’s life on the lam begins when he’s mistaken for a murderer, but by that point, he already has several cops chasing him for completely unrelated reasons.  It just feels a little haphazard.

But while it’s not put together as carefully, it is packed with excellent humor.  In some ways, this seems to have been Buster’s warm-up to Cops, because he pulls off some fantastic moments in the chase scenes.  The shot of him being dragged away by a moving car is an iconic one, and I love when he springs onto the spare tire of another departing car, only to realize it’s not actually attached.  To facilitate his escape, he also employs a horse-and-cart, a train, and a delivery truck.

The comedic climax comes once Buster’s made it into the crosshairs of the police chief, played by frequent costar Big Joe Roberts.  I previously highlighted the scene in which Buster vaults over Big Joe and through a high window, but the real crowning achievement is the chase that follows.  While Buster (and Fatty Arbuckle) played with elevators in The Bell Boy, Buster’s work with the elevator here is just scrumptious.  I love the sheer number of different ways he concocts to evade Big Joe using both the elevator and the stairs, and the finale elevator gag is a hoot.

The girl this time around is supplied by Virginia Fox, another regular in Buster’s work.  She doesn’t have a whole lot to do here; her most memorable scene, wherein a passerby gets spectacularly tangled in her dog’s leash, doesn’t have much to do with her.  However, there’s just something that tickles me about the fact that Buster is mistakenly wanted for murder and he still takes the time to put the moves on a pretty girl.  That Buster, folks – I tell ya.

By the way, I’ve seen this short a number of times, and I’m still not sure what the title refers to.  Scapegoat maybe, since Buster is being blamed for someone else’s crimes?  Search me.

Warnings

Slapstick violence, including plenty of tricky moves against officers of the law (Buster’s lucky he was a white guy, or this short would’ve been a lot shorter.)

Doctor Who: Series 9, Episode 11 – “Heaven Sent” (2015)

This will have to be a fairly short review, since there’s so little I can say without spoilers.  My overall impressions:  not OMG!!! Best Episode Ever!!!!, but interesting and well-made.  I’m equal parts excited and wary for next week’s conclusion/season finale (well, maybe not equal parts; the excitement is strong in this one.)

So, plot, huh?  Let’s see:  the Doctor is in mundo trouble, thrown headfirst into a creepy, baffling place with a fairly Moffatty monster that is slowly but inexorably coming for him.  It’s a race against both time and death to figure out how to escape.

The episode is stunningly directed.  The visuals and mood are Guillermo del Toro-esque, and the music is absolutely perfect.  It’s a veritable feast for the senses.  Putting aside the fact that it’s a two-parter, the episode feels very much like a complete entity.  By that, I mean that its assorted production elements all come together to create an unsettling but incredibly cohesive viewing experience.  There’s a thoughtful, deliberate feel to the design and cinematography.

The story, penned by Moffat, is a bit more hit-or-miss but still mostly good.  Most of the twists feel earned and well-seeded, and there’s some fine dialogue.  However, there’s one device that (to me) feels a little too much like Sherlock’s “mind palace,” which doesn’t quite work for me, and there are a few points that I’m not yet decided on; I’m going to have to watch the finale before I quite know how I feel about them.  There’s one in particular that I’m really hoping is misdirection.

The real headline here is Peter Capaldi, who gives his blood, sweat, and tears for this episode.  He spends huge chunks of time alone onscreen, but he fills it gorgeously.  He’s admirable, determined, despairing, lonely, smart, flippant, brave, terrified, and fatalistic, often several at the same time.  If this episode had a thesis, it would be, “Peter Capaldi is amazing.”

I’m a bit floored by how much good material has been written for Capaldi this season.  He’s always been phenomenal in the role, but last year, it felt like he was so often in the position of elevating so-so or even shoddy writing and making it work.  This year, though, it feels like the writers are much more interested in actually writing for him and giving him some beautiful scenes to realize.  Between some excellent points in “The Witch’s Familiar,” “Before the Flood,” “The Girl Who Died,” “The Woman Who Lived,” “The Zygon Inversion,” and now this episode, I’m thrilled that he’s getting material that’s up to his level.

Trevor Noah: Lost in Translation (2015)

I picked a good time to discover one of my new favorite funny people; less than a week after I saw my first clips of Trevor Noah on The Daily Show, Comedy Central aired this standup special.  I don’t watch a ton of standup, but I thought this was fantastic.  (Some joke spoilers.)

From what I’ve seen of Noah’s standup, here and on YouTube, I think his sensibilities as a comedian must be very shaped by South Africa’s young (as in recent) standup scene, which didn’t become legal until the ‘90s – along with free speech.  With that in mind, it makes sense to comedy and commentary go hand-in-hand in Noah’s act.  He’s incredibly funny, but he also has some very thoughtful things to say.  A few times, he got applause, not for a joke, but for the statement he was making.  (“You know who’s not a terrorist?  Most Muslims,” comes to mind.)  The special is built around several extended sequences, observations mixed with anecdotes.  If I have a criticism of Noah’s style, it’s that he can go off on a few too many tangents – though his sidetracked stuff is just as insightful/hilarious as his central focus in any given routine, I worried a few times that he’d never come back to his story.  Still, the meandering provides great material and shows off his versatility.  I like how he can go from outrageous to smartass to whacky to sober in the blink of an eye.  (Also, his accents are crazy good – I particularly like the argument he depicts between two Kentucky men that sounds more like dueling banjos than human speech.)

I love the long segment on racially-charged police violence, which is framed by the story of Noah’s utter panic at being pulled over in America for the first time.  Amid the silliness of the cop having to a bewildered Noah off the freeway, he examines four major events of unarmed black men being shot by police officers and the ways the media bent over backwards to explain away the tragedy.  His repeated refrain is, “I don’t know how not to die,” and he looks to these men’s stories to figure out the “right” way to do so.  There’s also a very good sequence on overall racial bias in news reporting.  Any crime committed by a Middle Easterner is “possible terrorism,” and any shooting in a black neighborhood is “probably gang-related,” but when a white man shoots nine people in a church, it’s an “isolated incident” involving a “mentally unstable lone gunman.”  Noah points out how quick the media is to separate this man from the rest of society and wonders why, when a white “lone gunman” kills people in a public place with the intention of inciting fear and spreading a message of hate, he isn’t considered a terrorist.

For me, the best is a story about flying as an African during the Ebola crisis.  It’s capped with some fine commentary on how fear makes people lose their minds and turn on each other, and being treated like a plague-carrier due to your national origin is of course disgusting, but Noah’s anecdote is hysterical.   I think my favorite moment in the special is when he realizes the health officer who’s there to take all the Africans’ temperatures doesn’t think Noah, a light-skinned biracial man with the name Trevor Noah, seems “African enough” to be suspected of having Ebola, and how conflicted he feels about it.  “Don’t get me wrong – I never want anyone to think I have Ebola, but I also don’t want anyone to assume that I can’t have Ebola.”  Too funny!

Warnings

Language (including the N-word a few times) and thematic elements, including discussions of violence, terrorism, and racism.

Relationship Spotlight: George Washington & Alexander Hamilton (Hamilton)

When I found out Christopher Jackson (Benny from In the Heights) was playing George Washington in Hamilton, I expected the same type of friendship dynamic that Benny and Usnavi had in In the Heights.  Not that Jackson and Lin-Manuel Miranda are only capable of playing off of each other in one way, but that two longtime friends of roughly equal ages will have a certain vibe that just comes through whenever they work together.

In truth, Hamilton and Washington are entirely different from Usnavi and Benny.  Rather than a friendship, the dynamic between Washington and Hamilton is that of a surrogate father/son, mentor/mentee, and leader/right-hand-man.  When these two interact, I easily buy that Jackson is a good two decades older than Miranda, simply through Washington’s gravitas and the way he regards Hamilton.  It’s an impressive feat of acting and writing that this relationship is presented so beautifully.

On first glance, they seem like an odd-couple pairing.  Young Hamilton is brash and cocksure, passionate about joining the Revolution.  He’s incredibly talented and undeniably brave, but his strong opinions and smart mouth tend to put him on people’s bad sides.  This is a far cry from regal, stalwart General Washington.  He’s seen as America’s hope, its leader and father, and he strives to live up to that mantle with quiet dignity.  However, it’s important to remember that Washington does have 20+ years on Hamilton; he’s had time to make mistakes and learn from them, and in Hamilton, he sees memories of his younger self.

Washington admires Hamilton’s conviction and values his dogged work ethic.  He hopes to pass on a portion of all he’s learned to the fiery young revolutionary, teaching Hamilton that “dying like a martyr” shouldn’t be the pinnacle of ideologically romantic aspirations and that what people say about a man isn’t as important as how that man lives his life.  For his part, Hamilton fairly idolizes Washington, absolutely viewing him as one of America’s greatest men, but that doesn’t make Hamilton himself a docile follower.  He has his own (very decided) ideas about the direction he thinks his life should take, and when Washington seems to stand in the way of that direction – refusing to give Hamilton a battalion to command – he rails against his general.  He also gets involved with petty in-fighting against Washington’s orders and later makes enemies in Washington’s cabinet, making “Jefferson started it!” excuses when Washington calls him out on it.

This is where the father/son dynamic comes through the strongest.  Washington cares about Hamilton and tries to protect him from his own recklessness, wanting to help Hamilton avoid the mistakes Washington made at Hamilton’s age.  Hamilton, though, resents any suggestion that he isn’t in the right and chafes against Washington’s firm, caring guidance.  He spends a fair amount of time arguing with Washington, but it’s so different than his conflicts with Burr, Jefferson, etc., because it comes from such a place of wanting Washington to recognize that he can do well.  He’s so much like a self-assured son trying to make his way in the world and insisting he doesn’t need any more help from his dad.  Yet, he frequently comes around when he has some time to cool off, realizing the value of Washington’s wisdom and experience.  He learns to understand that, when it comes down to it, Washington only wants to show him the tools he needs to succeed on his own.

Favorite Characters: Mike Watney (The Martian)

The Martian is a cracking good movie, and much of the credit for that is down to its endlessly engaging protagonist.  Whether he’s being brainy, badass, or befuddled, eliciting laughs or laments, Watney fires on all cylinders as a character.  This is so much more than a story about “a man stuck on Mars,” “an astronaut stuck on Mars,” or even “an astronaut botanist stuck on Mars.”  This is, at all times, a story about Mark Watney stuck on Mars, absolutely specific in every detail.

One of Watney’s most rootable traits is, naturally, his extreme capability and determination.  This is a man almost certainly destined to die alone on another planet, but he’ll be damned if he doesn’t go down swinging.  Throughout the film, Watney continually meets the myriad challenges of surviving on the Red Planet with limited resources head-on.  He “sciences the shit” out of all his supplies to make them last longer, he repurposes pieces of equipment to make himself alive in inventive ways, and he uses his own waste to make things grow on a planet that doesn’t support life.  Every day during his time on Mars, he pushes himself further and finds new means holding on.  He’s incredibly smart and endlessly resourceful, and he has nerves of adamantium.

Perhaps the most impressive thing about Watney is his ability to maintain his sense of humor amidst punishing, almost entirely hopeless situations.  In the video logs he makes (to leave records for history, as well as to keep track of his progress for his own review and benefit, and probably at least a little bit to keep from going crazy,) his running commentary tends frequently toward the smartass.  He jokingly boosts his ego, calling himself “the greatest botanist on this planet.”  He condemns his captain, not for leaving him behind on Mars, but for having only disco music on her computer.  Even in low moments, he’s likely to turn first to a bit of gallows humor.  That spirit is just tremendous.

But of course, Watney isn’t Superman.  His experiments don’t always work out (the first time he tries to make water, he sets himself on fire,) and his attitude isn’t uncrackable.  There are times when he lashes out at his own stupidity or recklessness.  He sometimes finds himself – most understandably – unable to smile, when he gives in to the despair and allows himself to feel the enormity of his predicament.  That’s only natural, and I don’t begrudge Watney a second of his anger, depression, or terror.  And let’s face it; as a character, he delivers on this front as well.  When he composes a message for his parents in the event that he can’t get back to Earth, his grief is all the more affecting because we’ve grown accustomed to his sarcasm and tenacity.

In all probability, the basic premise of The Martin would have made a fine movie in any form.  The story that plays out back at NASA, as well as on the returning spaceship, makes for an excellent movie; I’d have been quite happy to see these people trying to rescue any astronaut from Mars, and any astronaut’s struggle to stay alive and find a way to get home is bound to have been interesting.  However, it’s the character of Watney specifically – his personality, his humor, his reactions – that take this fine premise and this excellent, interesting plot and make it into a fantastic movie.

A Few Notes on Juliet (Romeo and Juliet)

As a tragedy, Romeo and Juliet is fairly engrossing; as a love story, it’s pretty ridiculous.  I think we all know this, so I won’t get into that.  What I will get into is an interesting nugget that struck me the last time I read the play, dealing with Juliet and her father at the end of Act III.

So, context.  At this point, Juliet has married Romeo in secret, and Romeo, having killed her cousin in a feud-related street fight on his way home from their wedding, has been banished to Mantua.  He’s just said his goodbyes to her, staying in town long enough for them to have a wedding night before making himself scarce.  Friar Laurence is their ally, and they’re planning to bide their time until he comes up with a way reconcile their families to their marriage and Romeo can come home.

That’s the state of affairs when Lord Capulet throws a huge wrench in the whole “bide their time” plan – he’s decided that Juliet will marry Paris in two days.  She makes every protest she can think of, both reasonable and emotional, but he hears none of it.  (In truth, he’s downright vicious.  At the start of the play, his approval of Paris depends on Juliet’s feelings:  “An she agree, within her scope of choice / Lies my consent and fair according voice.”  The second she says that she doesn’t want to marry Paris, however, he turns on her absolutely.  It’s creepy.)

This exchange understandably puts Juliet in a state, and it spurs Friar Laurence to come up with the fateful faked-death plan that culminates in both Romeo and Juliet killing themselves over what basically amounts to a miscommunication and bad timing.  (Harsh, right?)  But the thing is, there was no need for an overly-complicated stratagem that involved lots of subterfuge and relied on a message being delivered by hand in a timely manner.  There was no need for Juliet to take drugs that nearly stop her heart, make her family think she’s dead, or lay her in her family crypt and wait for someone to break her out when she comes to.  This is because, during the very conversation that incites the creation of this insane plan, her dad gives her an out.

In the midst of his tirade, Lord Capulet makes it clear that, if Juliet doesn’t marry Paris, she’s breaking with the family.  “Get thee to church o’ Thursday,” he tells her, “Or never after look me in the face.”  Essentially, marry Paris or get out.  And because this is the scene in which Lord Capulet shows how awful he is, he makes no bones about it.  He goes on to say, “An you be mine, I’ll give you to my friend; / And you be not, hang, beg, starve, die in the streets, / For, by my soul, I'll ne’er acknowledge thee, / Nor what is mine shall never do thee good.”

This is Juliet’s chance.  She couldn’t have gone with Romeo to Mantua earlier, because her movements are too heavily dictated by her parents.  But here, her dad is saying that, if she doesn’t fall in line, she can leave home and never come back, starving for all he cares (once again – such a standup guy.)  Leaving home, what would she be able to do?  Join Romeo, be with him like she wants.  No crazy plan necessary – her dad is practically holding the door open for her.  But Juliet doesn’t take this chance.  Why?  It seems there are two forces pulling Juliet here.  She wants to be with Romeo, but she doesn’t want her family to think less of her.  She doesn’t want to be anything other than their good daughter.  At the end of the day, she would rather have them believe she’s dead than think that she defied them.  And that desire, in its own way, contributes to the end of her life.

Hamilton: Songs 21-23

There are 46 songs on Hamilton’s cast recording.  46, you’ll notice, doesn’t divide evenly by 5.  So, instead of squeezing a sixth song into one of my write-ups or giving the finale its own separate mini-post, I thought I’d make a break between the first and second act.  It works out nicely, since there are 23 songs in each.  This way, I’ll just have two write-ups that are a few songs short.  Here’s the rest of Act I.

“What Comes Next?” – The next appearance by King George.  Continuing in the tradition of the pissy ex-boyfriend, he concedes defeat but charges that the colonies won’t know what to do without himm.  At first, I was a little torn on the fact that all of his songs use the exact same melody from “You’ll Be Back,” but I’ve decided I like it.  There’s enough fun stuff in the lyrics to keep it fresh, and really, you can’t argue with the insane catchiness of that melody.

Best lyric:  “What comes next? / You’ve been freed. / Do you know how hard it is to lead?”

“Dear Theodosia” – A really lovely “breather” number, as Burr and Hamilton both take a moment at the end of the war to look at their newborn children and imagine what the future holds for them.  It’s a fairly simple song, but the emotions are so pure, and the harmonizing between Hamilton and Burr is just magic.

Best lyric:  “Look at my son. / Pride is not the word I’m looking for. / There is so much more inside me now.”

“Non-Stop” – Oh my goodness gracious, this Act I finale.  It’s just incredible, covering a lot of Hamilton’s early post-war activities:  practicing law, participating in the Constitutional Convention, writing most of the Federalist Papers, and ultimately become Secretary of the Treasury.  It’s a fantastic number for demonstrating Hamilton’s drive and passion, his need to always be working and striving and doing more for his new country.  It introduces the wonderful “Why do you write like you’re running out of time?” theme, and the final moments incorporate numerous musical themes from the first half of the show, layer upon layer and creating a veritable wall of sound.  Sooooo cool!

Best lyric:  How do you write like tomorrow won’t arrive? / How do you write like you need it to survive? / How do you write ev’ry second you’re alive?”

One Week (1920)

This is my one my favorite Buster Keaton shorts.  So funny, so creative, and so, so Buster.  I’ve used it as a “gateway short” to introduce people to Buster’s work, and it’s served me well.

Buster and his new bride receive a DIY home-in-a-box as a wedding gift, and the short chronicles their first week as a married couple while they struggle to assemble their house.  Thanks to some meddling from a jealous rival, they wind up working off of bad instructions, and as a result… well, you can see for yourself in the image above.  Despite the young couple’s best efforts, everything that can go wrong does, and the story culminates in probably the best climax out of any of Buster’s shorts.

Front and center, this short displays Buster’s engineering talent and the shrewd ways he used it to comedic advantage.  Everything about the patchwork house is absolute dilapidated perfection.  It looks fantastic on its own, and when you throw in the various added wrinkles of cleverness Buster throws in (the second-story front door, the porch railing that doubles as a ladder, the stretchy, sagging ceiling,) it’s an absolute delight.  The humor that Buster mines from this house, and the inventiveness he packs into it, is just incredible.

The story lends itself well to its vignette style, so it wanders comfortably, but the gags build continually, getting bigger and more outrageous until we get to the tremendous final scene.  Right from the beginning, there’s a fun sequence of circular gags that gets us off to a smart, snappy start, and it only gets better from there.  I like Buster’s little creative touches, like writing “WELCOME” upside-down on the mat before flipping it around – there’s no reason for him to write it upside-down, and it isn’t even really played like a joke, but it and moments like it help to infuse the short with so much personality.  And of course, the modest cameraman – who offers some quick ‘n’ easy censorship when Buster’s wife drops the soap over the side of the tub and has to retrieve it – is a classic Buster moment.  He wasn’t really known for breaking the fourth wall, but whenever he did, he did it like a pro.  (Also, for whatever reason, I just love it when Buster touches his face so you can see how dark his hands look compared to his white pancake makeup.  It makes me smile.)

I’m quite charmed by co-star Sybil Seely in this short.  She’s a good choice to play Buster’s wife – since this short doesn’t have the typical storyline of Buster falling for/trying to win over The Girl, there’s less for the female lead to do, and so it helps to have someone so personable and engaging in the role to make it spark a bit more.  She and Buster are sweet together (the moment where he gives her the tiniest peck on the lips and then sheepishly disappears around the corner is too adorable,) and they have great comedic timing as a pair.

I’ve sung the praises of this short’s ending elsewhere, so I won’t go into the details again.  Suffice to say that it is fabulous, and, considering how early it came in Buster’s career, it’s a pretty telling sign of the great things to come.

Warnings

A bit of slapstick violence and a heap of don’t-try-this-at-home.

Doctor Who: Series 9, Episode 10 – “Face the Raven” (2015)

Still processing this episode.  Overall, I’d say that I really liked the episode stuff (ie, the one-shot story part,) and I’ve yet to make up my mind on the arc stuff.  On the latter front, I may need to wait until after the two-part finale before I quite know how I feel about it. 

The Doctor and Clara are on the case when they get a call from Rigsy, the graffiti artist from last year’s “Flatline;” he’s lost the last day of his memory, and there are mysterious markings on the back of his neck, counting down the minutes to zero.  The Doctor, deducing that the markings indicate Rigsy’s impending death, agrees to do whatever he can to save the young man.  The investigation takes them off the map to a hidden part of London (no, not London Below) where inflexible edicts govern the street and a deadly creature waits to be unleashed.

I’ll start with the one-shot story part, since there’s not much I’ll be able to say on the arc stuff.  It’s nice to see Rigsy again, but he doesn’t quite feel like the same character from “Flatline.”  He feels a bit flatter, more generic – like it could have been anybody, but the show slapped on the face of someone we know to make us (and the Doctor and Clara) more invested.  There’s only one significant moment where he really seems like the old Rigsy, and it’s easily his best.

The hidden-London angle is pretty cool, both in idea and execution.  I like how the team goes about trying to find it, and the place itself has a really neat design – it’s somewhere between Diagon Alley and the street scenes from The City of Lost Children.  There’s a lot of nice direction here, along with some inventive storytelling.  I’m not familiar with writer Sarah Dollard, who’s new to Who, but story-wise, I’m definitely in favor of her.

The Doctor and Clara are fairly good here.  I’d say both act reasonably in-character.  Not my favorite for either in terms of portrayal or adventure-contribution, but not bad.  There is a rather delightful moment in which the Doctor wonders why he always has to be the bad cop – too fun.  And as far as contributing to the adventure goes, this story seems to lean pretty hard on old-fashioned detective work.  The pseudo-Victorian look of the locale may have something to do with it, but for the most part, it feels more like a mystery than a straight-up sci-fi adventure.

All I can really say about the arc stuff is that I’m not sure what to make of it.  Beyond still figuring out how I feel about it, I literally don’t know if I can believe what I saw.  Personally, I’d like for it to have been a straightforward story, that the final two episodes will continue it and then move ahead, but I’m not sure if that’s the case.  Only time will tell, I guess.  Expect more spoilery remarks sometime after the finale airs.

Since I’m running a bit short, I might as well throw in a tidbit that I completely forgot to mention last week:  in addition to “Under the Lake” / “Before the Flood” giving us Who’s first Deaf performer with Sophie Stone, “Sleep No More” gave us Who’s first out transgender performer with Bethany Black.  It’s a fairly small role, and rather than playing a transgender character, she plays a non-specified-gender member of a lab-grown “grunt” species bred for war.  So, the character, 474, wouldn’t necessarily count as LGBTQ representation, but major kudos to Black for scoring a part on Who.

The Giant Mechanical Man (2012, PG-13)

This movie has been on my radar for a while – I’m usually up for an offbeat, indie rom-com, the cast is excellent, and the premise hooked me right away.  Having finally got around to seeing it, however, I’m sorry to report that it’s not all I wanted it to be.  Despite a lot of promise and some terrific performances, the story isn’t strong enough to make it as great as it could have been.

Janice and Tim are both searching for direction in their lives.  Janice just lost her job and her apartment.  She needs time to figure out what she wants, but she doesn’t have any space to do so; after moving in with her sister, Janice is constantly bombarded with well-meaning advice, hints, and pushes.  Meanwhile, Tim, a living-statue street artist, is beginning to lose faith in his choices.  His girlfriend is fed up with his “dead-end” artistic pursuits and has thrown him over, making Tim wonder if there’s truly any worth to what he does.  A bit of serendipity puts Tim and Janice in one another’s paths, and, amidst plenty of complications and interference, each slowly recognizes the other as a fellow “lost person” trying to do their best in an alienating era.

I love buskers, and I adore living statues.  The idea of a film about someone who spends his days as a living statue was instantly intriguing to me.  I’ll stop to watch a street artist like that for a minute or two, but they do this for hours on end.  They dress/paint themselves up every morning to go out and do it.  And then, even more significantly, they go home at the end of the day.  They have friends, significant others, homes, appetites, social engagements.  What does the everyday-commonplace stuff look like in the life of a person who does something so singular?  You didn’t have to tell me twice – I was all about seeing this movie.

Unfortunately, the films feels really overwritten to me, belaboring its incredibly-valid points – about life, ambition, and admitting one doesn’t have all the answers – by beating them into the ground.  Here, Tim and Janice are completely and utterly the odd ones out, the nails that haven’t been hammered down, but the ordinary, “have it all figured out” characters are so over-the-top in their smugness, blandness, and/or obnoxiousness that much of the tension is excised from the story.  It’s hard to get angry on Janice’s behalf when her sister walks all over her, or Tim’s when a gaggle of corporate types look down their noses at him, because the sister, the corporate types, and so many other minor and supporting characters are just too exaggerated to be believable.  Topher Grace’s Doug, a douchey self-help author and set-up date for Janice, gets a bit of a pass just because Grace commits so fully that the character feels more intentionally satirical.

Where the film works, however, is with Janice and Tim themselves.  The writing can still misfire at times, but the burgeoning connection between these two is much more solidly built, and Jenna Fischer and Chris Messina (Danny from The Mindy Project, which is how I first heard about the movie) both sell the heck out of their characters.  Every moment in which the film really, honestly succeeds involves them together; the chemistry between them is lovely and understated, and their bond feels important, vital to both characters’ journey to figure themselves out.  Both actors are so great that I’m annoyed the movie doesn’t match their wonderful work in it.

Warnings

Language, mild sexual content, and drinking.