11/19/15: Love The One You’re With

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Adam Brody, Amy Schumer, asteroids, bittersweet, cinema, Connie Briton, Derek Luke, directorial debut, end of the world, film reviews, films, Gillian Jacobs, Keira Knightley, Lorene Scafaria, Mark Moses, Martin Sheen, Melanie Lynskey, Movies, Nancy Carell, odd couple, opposites attract, Patton Oswalt, road trips, Rob Corddry, Rob Huebel, romantic-comedies, Seeking a Friend For the End of the World, Steve Carell, T.J. Miller, Tim Orr, Tonita Castro, William Petersen, writer-director

When faced with the impending end of the world, there are lots of appropriate responses. One might wallow in abject despair, collapsing in the corner in a wretched ball of sobbing sorrow, lamenting all that could have been: perfectly acceptable way to meet Armageddon, no two ways about it. One might attempt some sort of last-minute, all-or-nothing push to save the day, giving every plan a shot, regardless of how far-fetched: if you have nukes, this is probably where you wanna use ’em. Will turning on every fan in the world blow the asteroid back into space? You won’t know ’til you try it. If you’re gonna go down with the ship, after all, make it count.

One might use the threat of upcoming doom as impetus to attempt things one’s never tried: after all, if the world is ending at noon, why not try deep-sea diving at 11? If you really like drugs, sex, video games, movies, chocolate, whiskey or huffing oven cleaner, there’s no better time to indulge than right before the whole world goes up in flames, right? Bottoms up, sport! Alternately, the overly pious and religious might use the countdown as an opportunity to double-down on their faith, making sure that they’re as “nearer their God to Thee” as possible.

Writer-director Lorene Scafaria’s Seeking a Friend For the End of the World (2012) showcases all of these possible reactions to an imminent extinction-level event but there’s one possible angle that the film is much more interested in: the need for closure and the quest for true love in the twilight hours of humanity’s stint on this big, ol’ ball of water, rock and air. With only days to live, would you try and make the most of the life you have or take a wild shot at getting the life you always wanted but we’re too afraid to go for?

SAFFTEOTW begins, ironically enough, with humanity’s ultimate end: a last-ditch effort to divert a massive asteroid’s collision course with Earth has failed and we are, to put it quite rudely, massively fucked. In three weeks, the enormous space rock will pulverize our former home planet, turning it (and us) into so many cosmic memories. There are no second, third or fourth chances, no last quarter Hail Marys or hope for intergalactic intervention: this is the way the world will end…with a big, ol’ “bang” and a cut to black.

As the denizens of Earth rush about, doing all of those last-minute things that we previously mentioned, we’re introduced to mild-mannered office drone, Dodge Petersen (Steve Carell). His wife, Linda (Carell’s real-life wife, Nancy), has just left Dodge after receiving the thoroughly bleak news about humanity’s future. Stunned into a sort of blank acceptance, Dodge continues to putter about the remains of his life, even as everyone around him indulges their whims to the best of their abilities.

Dodge’s time to stretch his wings comes soon enough, however, when he ends up in the orbit of his quirky neighbor, Penny (Keira Knightley). Not only is Penny one of those vaunted “Manic Pixie Dream Girls” that will kick-start Dodge out of his boring rut, she also holds the keys to his (assumed) happiness in another major way: she’s been collecting his mail for years and one of the letters just happens to be from his long-ago girlfriend/one-that-got-away Olivia. Seems that Olivia wrote him a note a few months back in which she explained how Dodge was the love of her life and she regretted letting him go. For our hapless hero, that’s all the information he needs in order to undertake a mission to reunite with Olivia and find true love in the waning hours of our collective existence.

As is always the case, however, this is easier said than done. Once Dodge and Penny hit the road together, they’ll have the usual adventures (an esctacy-fueled orgy in an Applebees-type family restaurant is an easy highlight), meet the usual quirky people (CSI’s William Petersen has a blast as a weirdo trucker, in one notable instance, while the party scene is stuffed to bursting with comedians like Amy Schumer, Rob Croddry and Patton Oswalt), learn the usual life lessons (sometimes, what you really need is right under your nose the whole time) and learn what it means to truly be happy.

Full disclosure: I’ve never been the biggest fan of either Steve Carell or Keira Knightley. In Carell’s case, I’ve found the actor to be distressingly one-note: as far as I’m concerned, most of his roles are just variations of his Michael Scott character from The Office, including his much vaunted “serious” turn in Foxcatcher (2014). I was never particularly charmed by indie-efforts like The 40-Year-Old Virgin (2005), Little Miss Sunshine (2006) or Dan in Real Life (2007), while films like the Get Smart (2008) remake, the Ron Burgundy films and the Despicable Me flicks really aren’t in my wheelhouse.

Ditto for Knightley, who always strikes me as embodying the worst excesses of the “Manic Pixie Dream Girl” trope: regardless of the film, Knightley has a particular gift for letting her “quirky” persona overpower the proceedings, similar to someone like Zooey Deschanel. While I’ve seen performances of hers that were less grating (such as The Imitation Game (2014)), I’ve never really been fully on board.

To my immense surprise, then, Scafaria’s low-key dramedy (with much more emphasis on the drama than the comedy) not only presented performances from Carell and Knightley that were tolerable, it offered performances from the two that I genuinely enjoyed and got behind. Quite frankly, the two are pitch-perfect in the film, handily portraying characters that are equal parts damaged-goods and hopeful human beings. There’s a sense of world-weariness to Carell’s performance that’s perfectly balanced by Knightley’s acid-tinged optimism: too much of one or the other might have tipped the scales but the co-stars end up providing the best kind of checks-and-balances on each other’s performances.

For an actor that’s made a cottage-industry out of portraying lovable doofuses, Carell’s performance as Dodge marks one of the few times (for me, at least) where I actually like the character he’s portraying. Dodge isn’t perfect, mind you, but that’s part of the charm: he’s a (generally) nice guy who has made a few bad decisions, over the years, but who still takes a real “do no harm” view of society. The impending end of the world might have made him angry, depressed, or even selfish: any and all are perfectly acceptable outcomes. At the end of the day, however, Dodge is just a pretty normal dude who makes some pretty hard decisions and there’s nothing about that that’s hard to relate to.

For her part, Knightley’s Penny serves as the perfect foil for Dodge’s rather glum straight arrow. She’s quirky, yes, but not in the outrageously showy, self-centered way that…well, that previous Knightley performances were. There’s an underlying sadness and reliance to Penny that’s as much a by-product of Knightley’s performance as it is Scafaria’s script. Whereas similar films might try to shove Penny’s square peg into a round hole, Knightley grounds her just enough to make her seem like a genuine rebel rather than an obnoxious attention-seeker. She also expertly conveys Penny’s growing attraction to Dodge, a relationship that’s pretty much a foregone conclusion yet one that’s still allowed a little room to breathe and grow.

The one thing that I fully expected going into Seeking a Friend For the End of the World was a full-on goofy affair, full of silly, broad characters, pratfalls and endless dismayed looks from Carell (patent pending): what I ended up with, surprisingly, was the exact opposite. Rather than a loud, blaring multiplex “adventure,” SAFFTEOTW is a relatively low-key, morose affair, full of subtly strange characters, odd situations and some surprisingly astute commentary on human foibles. To be honest, the film is much more drama than comedy: even the film’s obvious comic setpieces, like the aforementioned restaurant bacchanalia or the house party, are shot through with just as much melancholy and quiet sense of loss as they are outrageous knee-slappers.

Ultimately, Scafaria’s end-of-the-world rom-com is a pretty rare bird: a mainstream, wide-release, popcorn flick with a big heart, sly sense of humor and bittersweet tone that never panders to its audience, yet manages to be both fun and thought-provoking. There’s an honesty and sadness to the film that you just don’t see in these kinds of things (suffice to say that the ending compromises nothing and gives not one inch on the film’s overall thesis): it’s the very epitome of “laughing through the tears” and, without a doubt, one of the film’s greatest strengths.

From the outside, Seeking a Friend For the End of the World might look like a dozen other films but it’s got a secret weapon that none of the others possess: it genuinely cares about the characters that haunt its reels and it wants you to genuinely care about them, too. In an all too disposable culture, that’s a pretty tall order for a romantic-comedy. Scafaria understands, however, that this is probably how the world will end: with a little hand-wringing, some quiet resolution and, hopefully, a bit of true love.

3/17/14: Belly Laughs and Bathroom Breaks

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abandonment issues, absentee father, Bad Milo!, bathroom humor, cinema, demons, Duncan, Erik Charles Nielsen, fear of fatherhood, fertility doctors, film reviews, films, Gillian Jacobs, horror-comedies, Jacob Vaughan, Ken Marino, kooky psychiatrist, Kumail Nanjiani, Mary Kay Place, Milo, Movies, Patrick Warburton, Peter Stormare, puppets, pushy mother, Stephen Root, Steve Carell, stomach problems, stress, Toby Huss

There are some film concepts that just sell themselves easier than others. Tell people that The Godfather is about mobsters and at least a few folks will be interested. Tell folks that The Texas Chain Saw Massacre is about cannibals and, dollars to doughnuts, someone’s gonna take the bait. It’s not necessarily that the world is full of mobster and cannibal lovers (although the continued success of these types of films says otherwise) but these are concepts that are fairly easy to wrap our collective heads around. Despite the actual content of these individual films, when we hear the words “mobster,” “cannibal” or “zombie,” we have a pretty good idea of what’s in store.

Once things become significantly higher (or lower) concept, however, preconceived notions become a bit more difficult to manage. If I were to tell you that The Dark Backward is about a stand-up comedian who grows a third arm out of his back, what would you say? Or that Septic Man is about a man who becomes a monster after falling into a sewer system? How about The Visitor, which can best be described as a low-budget sci-fi Western with angels, eagles, super children and John Huston? Sometimes, the basic idea behind a film can tell us almost nothing about the film, least of all whether we will actually like it or not. As Exhibit A in this notion, I present the recent horror-comedy Bad Milo, which bears a pretty simple premise: a nice, normal, average guy has a cute and cuddly demon that crawls out of his ass whenever he gets stressed and proceeds to massacre the (various) sources of said stress. At first blush, Bad Milo seems to be squarely in the Troma camp of over-the-top gore and gross bodily functions. Pass this one by, however, and you’ll be missing one of the sweetest, most unassuming and funniest films yet made about impending parenthood, absentee fathers and irritable bowel syndrome.

In short order, we’re introduced to our hero, Duncan (Ken Merino), one of those modern-day schlubs that Steve Carell specializes in. He’s got a shitty, passive-aggressive boss named Phil (Patrick Warburton), a baby-obsessed wife named Sarah and a constant yearning to know the father who abandoned him and his mother (Mary Kay Place) when Duncan was just a tot. Duncan, as with most modern folks, has got a lot on his plate, although his specific problems are all best suited to a broad big-screen comedy: his mother and her boyfriend Bobbi (Kumail Nanjiani) are perpetually horny, his fertility doctor (Toby Huss) is a crass jerk, his psychiatrist (Peter Stormare) is a loony and his new office is a bathroom, complete with urinal (one of the film’s numerous high points is the moment where Duncan’s imbecilic office-mate stares in wonder at their new “digs” and hopes that the urinal still works). With all of this going on, it’s no surprise that Duncan has quite a few health issues, not the least of which is his near crippling stomach ailments. For lack of a better (or more elegant) descriptor, Duncan has a particularly terrible form of IBS, leading him to spend hours in the bathroom and driving a bit of a wedge between him and Sarah: it’s a little hard to get romantic, after all, when your significant other is always on the can.

Duncan’s life becomes even more complicated, however, when his idiotic cubicle-mate Allistair accidentally deletes months of his work. Duncan experiences the worst pains of his life, blacks out and reawakens to the knowledge that Allistair has been shredded by a “raccoon.” Were it that simple, however. After a hypnotherapy session with his shrink Highsmith goes awry, Duncan is unceremoniously introduced to Milo, the demon who happens to live in his bowels. Milo is a cute little cuss, looking akin to a Muppet crossbred with one of the Ghoulies, and he takes a shine to his “father” Duncan. Only problem, of course, is that Milo has a tendency to “emerge” whenever Duncan is stressed…which is, apparently, all of the time. As Highsmith tries to help Duncan control Milo, other forces begin to emerge that will test Duncan’s new-found sense of zen: his boss has been draining the company dry, Sarah is still looking for a baby and Duncan’s long-gone father, Roger (Stephen Root), is reluctantly back in his life, with a secret of his own and a big piece to the puzzle that is Duncan’s life. Will Duncan be able to tame Milo? Can he forgive his father? Should he? How slimy will his boss get? And, most importantly, will he ever settle down and accept fatherhood?

Although Bad Milo’s concept is entirely predicated around bathroom humor and violence, the film is actually much sweeter and more wistful than this would imply. For one thing, Ken Merino is such a completely lovable puppy dog that you’re inclined to follow him anywhere, regardless of the absurd or disturbing situations: he’s an incredibly gifted comedian whose work in the TV shows Reaper, Party Down and Burning Love are practically  master-classes in making a doofus lovable. Bad Milo is completely and totally Merino’s film and wouldn’t be half as successful (or good) without his contributions. This isn’t to denigrate the quite capable supporting cast, however, which features a veritable who’s-who of character actors. We get Mary Kay Place, Patrick Warburton (always a favorite), Kumail Nanjiani (his infuriatingly condescending manner of speech is perfect for the character of Bobbi), Peter Stormare (as weirdly intense as ever) and Stephen Root. Root, in particular, is great in what amounts to yet another notch on a mighty impressive belt full of roles. Although he’ll always be Milton, Root’s resume looks particularly impressive by anyone’s standards.

Bad Milo focuses on several pretty deep issues, not the least of which are the abandonment issues that can fester late in life and affect one’s chances of raising a family. Without being fully aware, Duncan has been gravely damaged by his father’s absence and is taking these invisible wounds with him into his own developing family situation. He’s got a lot of love to give but it isn’t until he’s forced to serve as “father” to Milo that he’s able to focus this love unto anything besides his wife. He is his father’s son, after all, and there’s always the omnipresent fear that the apple doesn’t fall far from the tree. Manifesting these feelings of guilt, anger and disappointment as a physical entity may not be unique to this film (the nutso ’70s-era oddity The Manitou got there first) but Bad Milo manages the nifty hat-trick of being both thrilling and sentimental.

In reality, Bad Milo is the furthest thing possible from a Troma film, although there are various elements/scenes that would fit in nicely in any of Uncle Lloyd’s old “classics.” The gore effects aren’t particularly gratuitous but they are plenty juicy and do we get more than the recommended daily allowance of Milo returning to whence he came (if you get my drift). That being said, I’m really not sure what one could expect out of a film that could easily (if reductively) be described as “a man must learn to live with his ass demon.” Above all, Bad Milo is surprisingly and genuinely sweet. Duncan and Sarah have a quite lovely relationship, ass demons and parenthood issues notwithstanding. Duncan’s mom seems to genuinely love him and his friendship with his shrink, while hard-earned, becomes quite genuine by the film’s end. The reconciliation with his absentee father is also quite nice, helped in no small amount by an understated Root performance that reminds of Bruce Dern’s work in Nebraska.

As a comedy, Bad Milo also ends up being genuinely amusing. In particular, Warburton is perfect as Phil, the biggest dickhead to ever graduate management school. His constant degradation of Duncan approaches the level of sociopathic (the bathroom office is so perfect that I almost stopped the film after that point: why risk ruining it?) and good ol’ Patty is just the jerk for the job. In a similar vein, Toby Huss is quite good as Dr. Yeager, a “professional” whose bedside manner consists of telling Duncan that he has “a trooper in his pooper.” In order to make the central concept work, we’ve really gotta feel Duncan growing frustration and Warburton and Huss help make this happen.

Ultimately, Bad Milo is about something that we can all relate to, regardless of the relative health of our bowels or our personal lives: it’s about the need to be heard in a world where your voice is increasingly marginalized. At every possible opportunity, Duncan is over-ridden, over-shouted, over-turned and ignored. When he finally manages to find his voice, it doesn’t necessarily take the most productive form (ass demons rarely are) but it’s a voice, nonetheless. By refusing to be ignored and stomped on, Duncan gives the rest of us poor morons some sense of hope, no matter how faint. As the film makes explicitly clear, it’s always better to let things out than to keep them inside. We all have our own Milos: some good, some bad and some indifferent. Embrace yours today.