A Comedy For 'Schmucks'

by Brett Parker

Its one thing if a bumbling geek happens to be annoying. Its another if a geek goes out of his way to intentionally evoke great annoyance. This idea represents my main problem with Dinner for Schmucks, the Hollywood remake of the hit French comedy, The Dinner Game: we're asked to feel sympathy for a hapless loser who causes chaos for no clear reason besides his own twisted amusement. That Steve Carell is cast in the role of this idiotic hellraiser shows that the filmmakers want us to connect with the likeability within this nightmare nerd, but the evidence onscreen makes us curiously feel put-off. The rest of the movie has a cast that can do no wrong and a killer comic premise, but it settles too easily into mundane slapstick instead of realizing the fullest potential of its biggest jokes.

The film opens with a corporate man named Tim (Paul Rudd) seeking a promotion in his company. He dreams of swimming with the big sharks on the higher-floors in order to impress his loving fiance, Julie (Stephanie Szostak), and upkeep their lavish lifestyle. After an impressive presentation, Tim is allowed to rub elbows with the corporate big shots, led by the arrogant Lance Fender (Bruce Greenwood). Fender even invites Tim to an annual dinner hosted by the company cohorts. Yet this is no ordinary dinner: each company man has to bring a clueless idiot to the dinner as their guest for the sole purpose of making fun of them. Whichever man brings the biggest idiot to the party wins a first-prize trophy. If Tim really wants to secure his promotion, he'll have to go through with this mean-spirited meal.

Julie becomes appalled at the news of this dinner and Tim debates whether or not to go through with such a cruel activity, that is until he accidentally runs into Barry (Carell) with his car. Almost anyone can tell that Barry is a goofy loser, a socially awkward weirdo whose main hobby is stuffing dead mice and dressing them up in artistic displays (Barry has mice riding a Ferris Wheel, dining at restaurants, flying kites, etc.). Tim thinks running into Barry was an act of fate and that he'll be a lock to winning the biggest idiot prize at the dinner. Yet as Tim invites him to this deceptive event, Barry now feels he has a new friend and turns up unexpectedly in Tim's home life. Barry proves to be a tornado of mayhem and causes gigantic problems for Tim over the course of one crazy night. He drives away Julie, he brings an insane former fling (Lucy Punch) back into Tim's life, he has him breaking into the apartment of a zany model (Jemaine Clement), and he causes him to be audited by an IRS weirdo who believes he can control minds (Zach Galifianakis). Can Tim survive long enough to make it to the dinner with Barry?

Steve Carell has crafted a career out of oblivious weirdos who remain likeable in spite of their acts of stupidity. His goofballs can't help their own oafishness and accidentally cause headaches for everyone around them. This time, however, Barry appears to be wreaking havoc on purpose, using his idiocy as a shallow excuse. Take, for example, a scene where Barry notices an Instant Message on Tim's computer from a scary former fling. In the moment, Barry decides to respond, pretends to be Tim, and invites this crazy woman over even though he's fully aware that Tim has a serious girlfriend that he lives with. Why do such a thing? Why intentionally cause hell for someone you're trying to become friends with? We're supposed to believe that Barry is so dumb that he's oblivious to the chaos he's causing, but you'd have to be way more incredibly dumber than Barry to not realize that you're brewing up a bad situation. He's clearly doing this to watch Tim suffer for his own twisted amusement.

Its this mini-mean streak from within Barry that is barely acknowledged by the film and is written off as hopeless dorkiness. It's hard to buy and it's even harder to buy later on when Barry turns on the self-pity routine and we're supposed to connect with him once he turns to marshmallow. It's at this point in the script where Tim is ordered to stop being mad at him and start warming up to his vulnerable side. Yet Tim really should be infuriated by this man's behavior, he really is annoying, for him and for us.

Can a movie character be chaotic and unrelenting yet still be likeable in our eyes? I point you to the supreme example of Katherine Hepburn in Bringing Up Baby, the finest screwball comedy ever made. As Susan, the lunatic heiress hopelessly in love with Cary Grant's Dr. David Huxley, Hepburn shows us a nutty madwoman showing no mercy in trying to stay close to her dream man, whether it be stealing his car, hiding his clothes, getting him arrested, and putting him in the path of an unpredictable leopard. Susan is unmistakably relentless, but thanks to Hepburn she also has a sweetness and romantic yearning that's hard to dismiss. She may cause serious mayhem for David, but it's all out of a lovestruck devotion built on genuine affection. The film's most touching moment comes when Susan, after being scolded by David, pours her wounded heart out to him, declaring her maddened love for him. She wins us over and she eventually wins over David too, for all that chaos was just what he needed to stir up his humdrum existence. It'd be nice to think that Barry also has a desperate need to be liked, but surely he could've thought up more sincere ways than destroying Tim's apartment and relationships on purpose.

The rest of the film has the usual slapstick hijinks you'd expect in such a sitcom, although most of the gags seem watered down and never break loose towards anything truly hysterical. Part of the problem is that the plot drifts away from the central business at hand and towards the tornado of Barry's comic destruction. The plot would've benefited more hilariously if it deeply dissected it's main ideas more prominently. To what level of shame does Tim truly feel as he carries out his amoral agenda? What exactly is Barry's point of view on his own behavior? What could these two really get out of their relationship together, considering the deceptive motives behind it? How do they both really feel about the actual dinner? The film tries to force contrived answers to such questions without earning them through character development.

Considering the talent on-board, especially Director Jay Roach's comic experience (the Austin Powers series, Meet the Parents), there are some moments of interest to be found. Although the script miscalculates with the characterization of Barry, Carell holds a bug-eyed devotion to his character's zaniness that is a true testament to his comic gifts. Even though Tim's motives aren't exactly likeable, Paul Rudd allows us to empathize nicely with his journey of frustration and redemption. My favorite performance comes from Galifianakis as the IRS Mind Reader. I can't remember the last time a screen comic could be so utterly hilarious while doing little to nothing. The small, wheezy laugh he lets out while reading a tax record is the single funniest moment in the entire film. It must also be said that the film's climactic dinner scene, in which a room full of idiots are allowed to cut loose, does produce genuine laughs through delightful characters. We meet several strange cases such as a man who communicates with birds, an animal psychic, and a blind fencing champion (yes, you heard me). I was touched by how much these fools cherish their own quirky antics, revealing the corporate sharks behind this dinner to be the true sleaze that they are. It leads up to a wonderful moment where Barry seems generally confused as to why such fascinating people were invited to a party as “idiots.”

Dinner for Schmucks falls short because it holds a biting premise that grows too soft and a softy character with too much bite. The plot could've let loose with a dose of nastiness while the sweet and likeable Barry helped to deflect it. Curiously, the opposite appears to happen. It seems like comic gold to have Carell's sincerity bounce off of Rudd's frustration, but this outing proves to be a waste of a pairing and idea.