Another clown for president
Movies
With the broad, bright media spotlight focused on the upcoming
election, a picture about contemporary politics should supply the sort of
relevance that in the past characterized a number of classic Hollywood
pictures. Most viewers probably also expect the combination of Barry Levinson,
the writer-director of Man of the Year, and Robin Williams,
its star, to result in a work of some wit and insight, appropriately directed
at the tempting targets of this political season; that mixture of intelligence
and energy, after all, practically guarantees something special. Despite that
talent and the presence of a well known cast, the movie manages only a few
laughs and even fewer gestures toward any original commentary on the way we
live now and the state of the nation.
Robin Williams plays Tom Dobbs, a comedian and talk show
host — a combination of Oprah Winfrey and Johnny Carson — who, urged by his
fans and his manager (Christopher Walken), announces
a run for president. As silly as that may seem,
pictures as different as Wild in the
Streets (1968) and Dave (1993)
propose equally unlikely presidents, and lest we forget, even public clowns
like Strom Thurmond and Ross Perot mounted serious campaigns in the past, which
makes Dobbs’ candidacy quite plausible. When the two major
candidates foolishly agree to allow him a spot in one of their debates, he
kills, as comedians say, confronting both his opponents, bringing down the
house, and setting his previously dull effort on fire.
After he becomes a viable candidate and his campaign picks
up steam, the movie begins to shift its focus and tone, turning its essentially
comic materials into the stuff of the thriller. A computer expert (Laura Linney) who helped design the software used in the new
electronic voting machines discovers a puzzling glitch in the program, but when
she reports it to her boss, he ignores her and takes steps to silence her. Some
hoods forcibly shoot her full of drugs, which tilts
her metabolism and psyche in weird directions, and allows her company to fire
her.
When Williams’ character wins the election because of the
program malfunction — sound familiar? — Linney
travels to Washington
to inform him of the real reason for his victory. In that location the picture
jumps back and forth from her efforts to convince the president-elect of the
truth to her attempts to escape the apparently murderous intentions of her
boss’ thugs. It also now and then touches on Williams’ own moral dilemma about
winning the election through fraud and error.
Both the writing and directing of Man of the Year exhibit a surprising array of problems, all of
them apparently the work of Barry Levinson. To begin with, even though the
premise initially means something and possesses some importance, the movie
never really seems to believe in itself enough to make anything matter. Whenever
some useful or intelligent point arises, the script flees into jokes and gags,
most of which are only mildly amusing.
Although the major character presumably believes in some
kind of platform and runs for serious reasons, he only manages to spout the usual
cliches about lobbyists and corruption and Washington insiders,
perfectly true complaints that unfortunately constitute the daily blather of
the hypocrites currently in power. The director apparently wants the audience
to regard Williams as noble and sincere, but he and his entourage of comedy
writers and television personnel seem merely silly, constantly reiterating
their advice on how he should take aim at his opponents and laughing to signal
that someone’s made a joke.
Its constant shifts of form and mood from comedy to
political satire to dubious thriller suggests a failure of nerve on the part of
the writer-director, who settles for a general and inconsequential blandness
and in the process even manages to stifle Robin Williams’ manic energies. The
constant lobbing of softballs and the refusal to engage an issue with any
passion — apparently efforts to avoid offending any member of the audience of
any party — robs the picture of the sharp edge and strong statement necessary
in a political comedy or even a political thriller. Tellingly and ironically,
the president-elect announces his decision about the election on Saturday Night Live, which usually
presents its satire in funnier, more direct, even more outrageous ways than Man of the Year.
Man of the Year (PG-13), written and directed by Barry
Levinson, is now playing at Culver Ridge 16, Pittsford, Henrietta 18, Webster
12, Tinseltown, Greece Ridge 12, and Eastview 13.
This article appears in Oct 18-24, 2006.
