Dinner for Schmucks (2010)

Content by Tony Macklin. Originally published on August 7, 2010 @ tonymacklin.net.

Rodents have often been the stuff of comedy. From Mickey and Minnie to Mighty Mouse to Remy the Rat to Despereaux, they've made us smile.

In Dinner for Schmucks they're the stuff that dreams are made of.

Barry (Steve Carell) makes dioramas of dear, departed mice -- in various representations of famous paintings, historical events, and personal imaginings.

Dinner for Schmucks begins with an unusual credit sequence -- a montage of dioramas being assembled to the music of the Beatles' The Fool on the Hill. It's a lyrical sequence.

But the lyricism promptly fades. The movie switches to Tim (Paul Rudd), who is trying to get promoted to a higher floor and a corner office. He works for a company pursuing "distressed assets."

At a staff meeting, Tim offers an idea to increase business and draws the attention of the CEO Lance Fender (Bruce Greenwood).

Fender then invites Tim to join executives at a dinner that he regularly gives. The concept of the dinner is a contest to see which guest can bring along the biggest loser, at whom they can laugh. Fender is a "connoisseur of losers."

Tim accepts the invitation, but later he agrees with his girlfriend Julie (Stephanie Szostak) that he won't go. But that's before he runs into Barry.

Barry seems a perfect candidate for the dinner. He's a very simple soul. He's divorced, lonely, works for the IRS, and lives with his taxidermic friends.

Barry is as anxious to please as a loyal, puppy dog, and he attaches himself to Tim. But wherever he goes, chaos ensues. He pushes Tim's romance and career to the brink of destruction. The dinner brings the chaos to a wild climax.

Dinner for Schmucks was "inspired" (not the word I'd use) by a 1993 French play which in 1998 became a French movie -- Le Diner de Cons.

Since 2000 it has been a project for an American version. It had a lot of pitfalls along the way, until three studios decided to join in bankrolling it, and it has finally made it to the screen.

Director Jay Roach is experienced at broad comedy. He directed three Focker movies (Little Fockers is about to be released) and three Austin Powers movies (a 4th is being considered). So his greatest asset is repeating himself.

In Dinner for Schmucks, Roach is fortunate in his two leading actors. Paul Rudd is natural and likeable as the malleable businessman, and Steve Carell is winning as the undauntedly dim Barry. They work well together.

Jemaine Clement (tv's The Flight of the Concords) adds pizzazz as the artist with animal magnetism. Zach Galifianakis adds a body as Barry's IRS boss.

Roach is a lot less fortunate in his comediennes. Stephanie Szostak is adequate as Julie, but Lucy Punch has no sense of comedy as Darla, Tim's stalker. And Kristen Shaal is simply miscast as Tim's secretary.

The labored dialogue, by writing partners David Guion and Michael Handelman, doesn't help.

About halfway through at a scene of a luncheon, Dinner for Schmucks lurches. Every time Roach thinks he needs to goose up his script, he has a character scream and become violent. He even has Carell throw a fit. He lets hysteria trample wit.

And of course, when the movie threatens to become soft, the script depends on bull excrement and body parts -- e.g., a zebra's vagina or a behatted phallus -- for its humor. Sigh.

Anytime most contemporary comedies fear they are faltering, they bring out the hit-or-miss bombast. Bullpucky against the wall. Dinner for Schmucks becomes more exercised than funny.

It's difficult for the makers of film comedy to sustain tone. Dinner for Schmucks veers from charm and cleverness to crassness to witless frenzy. A dollop of each.

A classic film comedy that sustained its tone beautifully is The Birdcage (1996). But Roach is no Mike Nichols. Wit is a rare quality in comedy; however, witlessness is in abundance. Roach doesn't seem to realize the difference.

It's hard for the makers of comedy to trust their material -- or their audience. The best comedy on tv these days is The Big Bang Theory. It's brilliantly written and wonderfully acted. But the powers-that-be nearly ruin it with an obnoxious, nonstop laugh track. A character says "hello," and the soundtrack busts a mechanical gut.

Despite its shortcomings, at its best Dinner for Schmucks has moments of charm and amusement. The Chiodo brothers deserve a special shoutout. They did more than 100 mice models. The dead mice are the life of this party.

In Dinner for Schmucks, mice are nice.