Man of the Year

“There’s no ‘Pop! Zing!’ There’s no oomph!” Christopher Walken tells comedian-turned-presidential candidate Tom Dobbs in Man of the Year, while indirectly providing a succinct review of the entire movie. Dobbs is played by Robin Williams, who has made his career out of playing a motor-mouth nonconformist with a twinkle in his eye. This character may work in prep schools – Dead Poets Society – and hospitals – Patch Adams – but not politics, where his lighthearted persona is thoroughly insubstantial. He may rip off Barak Obama’s line declaring that ‘there are no red states or blue states, but a United States,’ yet by avoiding any vital issue, like the war on terror or global warming, Williams offers no solution to unite our differing views, except with stale routines even David Letterman wouldn’t touch. You know a comedy is failing when Walken, in his soggy detached mode, indulges in one of his trademark mini-monologues about shaving circus elephants, and doesn’t inspire a single guffaw.

During our era of The Daily Show, which many viewers have trusted over real news programs, how could this film’s relevant premise be reduced to such contrived dreck? Director Barry Levinson obviously wants Man to combine two of his most successful films, Good Morning Vietnam and Wag the Dog. That may explain the film’s borderline criminal bait-and-switch: it’s actually a god-awful drama disguised as a mediocre comedy. The wonderful Laura Linney has the undesirable role of ‘party pooper,’ as her inexplicably serious storyline grinds any amusement to a halt. She works for a computerized voting system, discovers a glitch that elects the wrong president, and then falls victim to scheming executives who intend to cover up the mistake. What follows is one of those yawn-inducing thrillers involving loud clangs on the soundtrack, cell phone chargers, and not an ounce of originality.

This is Linney’s worst film since The Life of David Gale, and for similar reasons. By making Dobbs the nation’s un-chosen candidate, and casting greedy executives – instead of lying politicians – as the villains, the film blows its chance at delivering the social commentary it promised. Like the vastly superior Bulworth, any potential satire is derailed by unconvincing subplots. And the satire is so old hat that it’s no wonder the once-topical SNL shows up in the final reel. When Williams rants center-stage during a televised debate, it’s less of a Jimmy Stewart filibuster, and more of a Robin Williams stand-up act. Regardless, his act inspires equal amounts of laughter from both the public and Congress, even though I didn’t laugh once. As Dobbs observes, a joke stinks with or without a laugh track, which the deadening silence at my screening no doubt proved. He should save potshots at Paris Hilton for Conan.

Williams’s entrance into rehab made him recently unable to travel the late-night circuit, and based on the evidence of this film, he needs a vacation. Man’s lack of self-confidence is exposed whenever its characters make wistful observations, pretentiously guiding viewers toward the ‘importance’ of this inconsequential story. In a nutshell, the film’s earth-shattering message is ‘don’t lie.’ Are you listening, Capitol Hill? Some of the film’s messages are plain wrong, like its claim that voters don’t care about the issues – yeah, like Christians and abortion. Dobbs’s concluding statement that “the Jester doesn’t rule the kingdom” is also missing the point, since contemporary comedians like Jon Stewart and Stephen Colbert offer more truth than most politicians. Levinson and Williams should have taken the advice of my critical studies teacher Dan Rybicky, who recently warned his film students that “if you try to please everybody, you please nobody.” Man of the Year will certainly bridge the divide between our nation’s warring parties by stirring up a series of unanimous groans.

Rating: *1/2 (out of *****)