Review: Recount

Originally Posted July 20th, 2010 

When major decisions are determined by thin margins, it’s easy to ask oneself, “What if…?” Take, for example, the presidential election of The United States in 2000, a race that was, at one time, separated by less than two hundred votes. What if the machines in Volusia County hadn’t gone haywire and altered the voter tallies? What if the ballots hadn’t been double sided and so hard to punch? What if there had been a film that explained what was going on in a way that even a political dunce like myself could understand? After watching Recount, I have an answer for the last question, but more importantly, those first two questions become uncomfortable, even dispiriting, to consider.

Recount has a tricky line to walk - it needs to recreate the events of the Florida recount in a manner that's entertaining, but also truthful. Based on extensive research and countless interviews with nearly all the key figures, Jay Roach’s film plants the viewer right in the heart of both the Republican and Democratic campaigns, as each party tries to wrest the outcome of the election away from the other. Centring the film is Kevin Spacey as Ron Klain, the Gore campaign's prodigal son, whose shot at political restoration fuels his no holds barred approach to getting the votes counted. Spacey is backed by a bevy of other seasoned actors who, in addition to being universally convincing, also look eerily similar to their real life counterparts.

Scenes hastily jump back and forth between party camps as they respond to rulings and polls, with each group trying to outmanoeuvre the other. By showing the reactions on both sides, Recount is able to clearly communicate to the viewer the importance, if not always the details, of the day's battle. Easily the greatest strength of the film is how it manages to make mounds of political jargon and legal proceedings not only understandable, but exciting. Numerous court rulings concerning the validity of a dimpled chad (voting bubble) have the weight of a referee decision in overtime. There are so many small victories for each side that every ruling and arbitration feels like a another sway in the direction of an all-out war for the White House.

While the film wants to be taken seriously as a factual re-enactment, much of Recount’s impact comes from how well it dramatizes seemingly inconsequential events. When indication is first given that something is wrong with the voting machines, there’s a frantic race to stop Gore from giving his concession speech. It’s all heightened for dramatic purposes, but it’s certainly entertaining. Similarly heart-pounding is the appearance of a mob at one of the recount centres, where Bush supporters assault a Gore lawyer carrying a sample ballot. Again, it’s engaging because such confrontations actually happened. But as the adaptation elements begin to overtake the documentary ones, it becomes clear that anyone looking for a neutral appraisal should look elsewhere.

Recount’s only real failure is that in taking a dramatic look at the California recount, it loses its chance at being a balanced take on the events. It can be hard to blame the film though, because in reality the Democrats were, from the get-go, in a more sympathetic position. While the Gore campaign was broadcasting the idealistic motto of “every vote counts”, the Republicans had to respond by stopping the counting of invalid votes, even though they had by all accounts won. Just about every court and legislative body concerned with the recount at that time was either Republican, or somehow associated with Bush. Again, these are facts that simply enhance the perception that Gore is somehow fighting uphill against impossible odds. The Democrats come off as the scrappy underdogs while the Republicans can’t escape the appearance of having tried to not so stealthily pull the wool over the public’s eyes. Though the film can be forgiven for any opinion generated by the circumstances of the recount, certain dramatic elements only serve to reinforce the feeling that the creators are coming at the material with a strong opinion of their own.

By anchoring the story around the Gore campaign’s leader, any semblance of impartiality goes out the window. There’s some backstory given about Klain and Gore’s uneasy partnership in the past, but that history serves only to make the audience sympathetic with Klain’s attempts to redeem himself. There’s no one to humanize the Republican side the way Klain does for the Democrats. While the film makes a point of indicating that Klain was more interested in the votes being counted than the actual winner, he’s still the nice guy trying to make good, and you want him to succeed. The only person on the Republican bench given adequate screen time is Laura Dern as then Florida Secretary of State Katherine Harris, who comes across as more of a preening debutant than an elected official.

It’s the subtleties of how the Republican Party is treated that are more concerning. Every action by a Bush supporter feels much more cloak and dagger than anything done by the liberals, and there’s an air of subterfuge about every closed door meeting and late night rendezvous. Even the Bush campaign camp, led by a Dr. Pepper chugging Tom Wilkinson, feels more based on caricatures, thanks to an almost entirely white, crew-cut sporting army of lawyers. The Bush camp contrasts heavily with the more ethnically diverse Gore crew, which operates more like a team. It’s often hard to tell where the re-enactment part of the film ends and the dramatic elements begin. It’s not the fault of the creators that they have an opinion, it just feels like any approach that isn’t apolitical is a betrayal of the authenticity that the film flirts with.

HBO was smart to approach Recount as a made for TV-movie as opposed to a big screen release. The election of Barrack Obama was mere months away, and it seems doubtful that people would pay to watch a movie about the difficulties of simply casting a vote. It’s a reminder of a period many have forgotten, but for others, would reopen the old wounds of a power transfer that looked less like an election and more like a barbaric tug-of-war. Yet, Recount’s timely release is all the more important because even though its politics aren't so subtle, it's good to know that, yes, every vote matters.

4 out of 5

Directed by Jay Roach

2008, USA

Review: Dinner for Schmucks

Originally Posted August 1st, 2010

There are few things worse than seeing a good premise squandered. Even worse is when a great premise can’t carry a movie with a stellar cast. You’ll rarely feel more robbed then when a trailer selling you a good idea and a strong cast doesn't make good on its obvious potential. Last year’s The Invention of Lying was one such film, having so much promise yet delivering on so little of it. You’d think a movie set in a world where everyone but Ricky Gervais has to tell the truth would be a laugh riot, but the final product didn’t live up to the pedigree. Dinner for Schmucks will probably go down as a film on par with Lying, because even with an A-list cast and a premise that seems golden, the end result is shockingly underwhelming.

Paul Rudd stars as Tim, a middle-of-the-pack business analyst trying to muscle his way into the upper echelons of his brokering firm, headed by a delightfully dickish Bruce Greenwood. In order to finally get the promotion and raise Tim desperately needs, he has to pass one final test: find a complete moron to be his plus one at a dinner party for the amusement of his co-workers. There, each employee’s dolt will compete for the prize of schmuck of the evening, an award which would surely grant Tim his promotion. Tim finds his idiot in Barry (Steve Carell), who he meets trying to save a dead mouse for his taxidermy creations, which he calls mouster-pieces. Barry’s various dioramas are a highlight of the film, especially his model recreating the invention of the BLT. Barry seems like a shoe-in for first place at the dinner, his intellect among the pantheon of Carell dimwits landing well below Michael Scott but only a hair above Brick Tamland.

What follows is the evening of buffoonery and wanton destruction that the trailers sold you on. But wait, first we need Tim and his curator girlfriend Julie (played by the lovely Stephanie Szostak) to get in a fight over Tim's willingness to subject some poor sap to humiliation so that he can get ahead. Also, Tim and Barry have to make sure Julie isn’t cheating on him by breaking into the house of Julie’s new client, the animalistic Kieran, played by up-and-comer Jermaine Clement, who's a variation on the Aldous Snow character Russell Brand popularized in Forgetting Sarah Marshall. And don’t forget, a psychotic stalker Tim had a one night stand with needs to show up courtesy of Barry’s bumbling interference. That covers only about half of the major subplots and characters in this film. If it isn’t apparent by now, then you should know that Dinner for Schmucks is not the quick chuckle fest about a bunch of bizarre characters at a fancy party the trailers would have you believe, but is instead an overstuffed comedy of mistaken identities and switched cellphones that feels every minute  as long as its nearly two hour runtime.

The movie works hard to set up the characters and situations for the crescendo, the results usually being pretty enjoyable. The titular dinner, which only makes up about the last fifteen minutes of the movie, is every bit as awkward and funny as the trailer would make you think, but getting to that point is a laborious process. The stalker subplot ends in great fashion but to get to that point you have to go through two or three scenes that are more frightening than funny, making you wonder if the character was necessary at all. The plot is motivated almost entirely by people mistaking something or someone for something else, such as the aforementioned cell phone switch, or Barry attracting the stalker online by pretending to be Tim. Such unlikely plot elements might have worked ten years ago when director Jay Roach made Meet the Parents, but by now it feels forced. I think most people today are aware enough to check which phone is there’s when an identical copy is sitting next to it.

The hit-or-miss gag's coast on the cast's delivery as opposed to witty writing, a shame considering the slew of incredibly talented comedic actors forced to make the most out of such a lukewarm script. Carell is the real nucleus here, and his ability to inject heart into even the most block-headed of characters shows why he’s so sought after. The supporting cast is equally exceptional, particularly Zach Galifianakis as a fellow idiot who specializes in “mind control.” Unfortunately though, the most disappointing performance comes from the man who is probably the best actor of the bunch, Rudd, who’s never been blander in a leading role. Now, Rudd has proven himself to be an immensely talented and funny actor over the better part of the last decade, but here, he has to play the straight-man to all of Barry’s wild antics, which leaves little room for his character to breath. He’s defined by his girlfriend and his job but little else, and he probably could have been replaced by any other actor, it’s just that Paul Rudd has come to personify the nice but unlucky guy in recent years.

Somewhere in Dinner for Schmucks, there’s an interesting commentary about the uncertainty of our current employment landscape and the tough choices you need to make when you’re living beyond your means. More importantly, there’s a funny comedy featuring a bunch of talented actors goofing it up at a fancy dinner party. But both are saddled with a mundane, bloated script, that leans heavily on overused plot elements, and runs at a length that completely sinks the laughs per minute ratio. It's a frustrating, borderline maddening little failure, because if this kind of talent can't make good, you start to wonder who can.

2 out of 5

Directed by Jay Roach

2010, USA

Review: The Campaign

Seeing as they've been the biggest names in comedy for the better part of a decade now, Will Ferrell and Zach Galifianakis had to star in the same movie at some point. So why not now, at at time when political sensitivity is just starting to percolate, and we could all use a break before the real polarizing insanity begins? Their comedic styles practically read like a president/vice presidential ticket: Ferrell quarterbacks as the big gun leading the ensemble, while Galifianakis is the loveable oddball who shows up to support the headliner, if not outright upstage them. Putting these two together is like getting a licence to print money, so if anything, waiting to do a project about a no holds barred congressional seat race at the prime of its relevancy should only make this meeting of comic titans even more of a success.

So why is The Campaign so much less than the sum of all those hallmarks of a sure-fire hit? It's not as if director Jay Roach is unqualified for this sort of material. When he's not shooting R-rated comedies, he's busy making made-for-TV political movies on HBO. And The Campaign does deliver on the brand of jokes you've come to expect from both its stars, with Ferrell playing another inexplicably successful but barely contained man-child, and Galifianakis doing a variation on the preciously optimistic dimwit archetype he does so well, this time with some heinous sweaters and a pair of chinese pugs to keep him company.

The dominant issue might be that the story is designed to keep the pair apart as much as possible. The film opens with Ferrell's Cam Brady campaigning for reelection as a North Carolinian congressmen, even though all he's had to do in the past is just show up, having previously run unopposed. His platform is simple: America, Jesus, and freedom. When a misdialled phone number and a particularly salacious voice-mail land Brady in hot water, his corporate backers (Dan Aykroyd and John Lithgow) start looking for a replacement, which they find in Galifianakis' Marty Huggins, a small town businessman whose eccentricities can be easily confused for folksy charm.

With an opening quote from Ross Perot reminding viewers that, "politics has no rules," plans for a clean campaign are abandoned almost immediately by both parties, as Cam and Marty pander shamelessly while on camera, and orchestrate increasingly ruthless attacks against one another when off. With Ferrell and Galifianakis only interacting during debates and public events, it's the supporting cast they have to bounce of off when out of the public eye, including  Brian Cox as the Huggins patriarch, and Jason Sudeikis as Brady's campaign manager. There's also Dylan McDermott as Sudeikis' Huggins-camp counter-part, though unless there's some secret inside joke at work here, giving his character the same name as the dentist from Seinfeld is just weird.

While the backup players do fine, The Campaign toooften feels like a series of missed opportunities. The breakouts for both leads (Anchorman and The Hangover) had stronger stories to tie together what were essentially sketch compilations featuring a very talented cast. Here though, the plot counts down to the all-important election without actually building toward it. It's practically one great big montage of scenarios and premises related to campaigning, interspersed with direct attacks and retaliations against one candidate or another, and the repetition grows more wearying every time The Campaign hits the same note of politicians doing anything to please voters.

Certain jokes in and of themselves work just fine. There's a kinda clever, kinda offensive take on the southern mammy stereotype that gets some good mileage. And accidentally punching a baby is just inherently funny, as is when they return to that gag, which is even funnier. But they're the few noteworthy jokes sprinkled into a script that relies too heavily on formula in the sketches: get some expletive-peppered exposition out of the way, then establish a gag where everyone can shout out escalating non sequiturs to see which one will be the scene ender. It's tiresome, and doesn't make the most of either the subject matter or the rating. Why bother getting an R when one of the biggest laugh lines comes from an insult that was safe enough to be used on 30 Rock years ago.

The hit or miss humour would be more acceptable if there were something else to fall back on, but as satire, The Campaign is mostly toothless. The only real political sentiment is the broad acknowledgement that big money has become the real source of electoral power, and the evil industrialists pulling everyone's strings are called the Motch brothers, so if you've seen Wisconsin in the news in the last year, you get the joke. Their villainous plan to construct a child labour factory in the heart of North Carolina is a little at odds with the frequent product placement for Apple, with the message becoming less like "child labour is bad," and more like "child labour is bad so long as we're aware of it."

Though amusing in spurts, The Campaign doesn't convert enough of its huge potential into a memorable return, floating by on the strengths of its cast when it had the potential to soar. For a film that wants to idolize the positive change elections can have, The Campaign's inability to deliver fully on its own promise seems all too sourly familiar.

2 out of 5

Directed by Jay Roach

2012, USA