Watching films on planes isn't all bad, and Rami attempts to explain why.
One of the many joys of watching films on planes is that you get to see movies that you hadn't seen when they were out in theaters; movies which aren't yet widely available on DVD; movies that you might not have had time to go and watch, but which sounded quite interesting. And, frankly, when you're out over the middle of the Atlantic wondering if it'll be possible to get to sleep with a rather wine-sodden gentleman in the seat next to you snoring away, virtually anything works as a distraction.
So, in my most recent transatlantic hop, I got a chance to see Man of the Year - a film with a surprisingly name-loaded cast - it stars Robin Williams, Laura Linney, and Christopher Walken - and yet without the polish that you'd expect from such an evidently big-budget production. The basic concept, to start with, is fantastic: the movie focuses around Tom Dobbs (Williams), a political comedian in the vein of the Daily Show's Jon Stewart, who decides to run for President of the United States. And, thanks to a flaw in the recently-introduced electronic voting system, he appears to win. The only person who knows better is Eleanor Green (Linney), who works for the electronic voting company and struggles to get this piece of information out despite her bosses' attempts to cover up the issue. Eventually, of course, she manages to tell Dobbs, but leaves the decision as to whether or not to actually go public with the information up to him.
The execution of this concept, however, is riddled with problems. Granted, realism isn't meant to be a film's strong point, but there are too many stretches here. For instance: at one point, on the instructions of the electronic voting company (because no movie is complete without a corporate conspiracy) a man breaks into Green's house, knocks her out, injects her with a cocktail of drugs, and leaves. The next day she has a breakdown at work and doctors, finding "everything from GHB to cocaine" in her bloodstream, do what is clearly logical and diagnose a long-term drug problem. She is effectively discredited, and her company can wash its hands of her.
The characters, and especially their dialogue, are equally hard to swallow. Dobb's manager (Walken) seems to disagree with everything Dobbs does, repeatedly and robotically, as if the script-writers had been given a requirement an older father or uncle figure, cynical yet ultimately supportive, and had written the part with a minimum of effort. All he has to do is object to things, then be surprised and almost reluctantly happy when it turns out well - lather, rinse, repeat for the rest of the campaign. Dobbs, in turn, is constantly going against expectations and "engaging with the issues", yet never says anything beyond "I'm tired of the two-party debate. We need to move beyond the interest groups that are funding both parties". Maybe I've been spoiled by The West Wing but I expect semi-believable political commentary out of a character who has supposedly made his name doing exactly that. And the other major character, Green, is one scene brave and in the next, timid; in one scene paranoid and in the next, naive; in one scene confident and in the next, angst-ridden. Never is she believable.
Despite the stretches of the plot, the completely inadequate characterization, and the stilted, unreal dialogue, there are good points. Williams' delivery is impeccable, and even in a role as a professional comedian he manages to be funny.
More importantly, the film does raise some very important issues, even though they're tangential plot points - a large part of American politics is about special interest groups; about the corporate lobbyists that are the funding base behind both parties; and about the fact that if you're spending $200 million on a campaign (although the real figure in the next election is likely to be closer to $1 billion), you're going to owe some people some pretty big favors when you're in the White House.
It also touches on one of my biggest annoyances when it comes to recent political developments - the rise of electronic voting, of black boxes that are trusted when there's no reason for them to be. To slide off-topic just a bit: in the name of accountability, transparency, and virtually everything else that liberal democracy stands for, voting machines cannot be impenetrable black boxes. Their design must be open to scrutiny; the plans for their hardware must be publicly available; and the most important part, their electronic voting software, must also be open to scrutiny - in other words, it must be open-source. If any one of these issues is not met, then the operation of the voting machines and counting systems becomes a complete mystery. And, even though this movie treats the very real problem in a light-hearted way, it may be disturbingly prescient...
Political rants aside, Man of the Year is mostly entertaining and often funny, but only if you expect nothing but mild entertainment. If you have a tendency to cringe at inconsistencies and nonsensical plot points, or if you're looking for a film that actually says something about the serious political topics it lands on, then I don't recommend it.
So, in my most recent transatlantic hop, I got a chance to see Man of the Year - a film with a surprisingly name-loaded cast - it stars Robin Williams, Laura Linney, and Christopher Walken - and yet without the polish that you'd expect from such an evidently big-budget production. The basic concept, to start with, is fantastic: the movie focuses around Tom Dobbs (Williams), a political comedian in the vein of the Daily Show's Jon Stewart, who decides to run for President of the United States. And, thanks to a flaw in the recently-introduced electronic voting system, he appears to win. The only person who knows better is Eleanor Green (Linney), who works for the electronic voting company and struggles to get this piece of information out despite her bosses' attempts to cover up the issue. Eventually, of course, she manages to tell Dobbs, but leaves the decision as to whether or not to actually go public with the information up to him.
The execution of this concept, however, is riddled with problems. Granted, realism isn't meant to be a film's strong point, but there are too many stretches here. For instance: at one point, on the instructions of the electronic voting company (because no movie is complete without a corporate conspiracy) a man breaks into Green's house, knocks her out, injects her with a cocktail of drugs, and leaves. The next day she has a breakdown at work and doctors, finding "everything from GHB to cocaine" in her bloodstream, do what is clearly logical and diagnose a long-term drug problem. She is effectively discredited, and her company can wash its hands of her.
The characters, and especially their dialogue, are equally hard to swallow. Dobb's manager (Walken) seems to disagree with everything Dobbs does, repeatedly and robotically, as if the script-writers had been given a requirement an older father or uncle figure, cynical yet ultimately supportive, and had written the part with a minimum of effort. All he has to do is object to things, then be surprised and almost reluctantly happy when it turns out well - lather, rinse, repeat for the rest of the campaign. Dobbs, in turn, is constantly going against expectations and "engaging with the issues", yet never says anything beyond "I'm tired of the two-party debate. We need to move beyond the interest groups that are funding both parties". Maybe I've been spoiled by The West Wing but I expect semi-believable political commentary out of a character who has supposedly made his name doing exactly that. And the other major character, Green, is one scene brave and in the next, timid; in one scene paranoid and in the next, naive; in one scene confident and in the next, angst-ridden. Never is she believable.
Despite the stretches of the plot, the completely inadequate characterization, and the stilted, unreal dialogue, there are good points. Williams' delivery is impeccable, and even in a role as a professional comedian he manages to be funny.
More importantly, the film does raise some very important issues, even though they're tangential plot points - a large part of American politics is about special interest groups; about the corporate lobbyists that are the funding base behind both parties; and about the fact that if you're spending $200 million on a campaign (although the real figure in the next election is likely to be closer to $1 billion), you're going to owe some people some pretty big favors when you're in the White House.
It also touches on one of my biggest annoyances when it comes to recent political developments - the rise of electronic voting, of black boxes that are trusted when there's no reason for them to be. To slide off-topic just a bit: in the name of accountability, transparency, and virtually everything else that liberal democracy stands for, voting machines cannot be impenetrable black boxes. Their design must be open to scrutiny; the plans for their hardware must be publicly available; and the most important part, their electronic voting software, must also be open to scrutiny - in other words, it must be open-source. If any one of these issues is not met, then the operation of the voting machines and counting systems becomes a complete mystery. And, even though this movie treats the very real problem in a light-hearted way, it may be disturbingly prescient...
Political rants aside, Man of the Year is mostly entertaining and often funny, but only if you expect nothing but mild entertainment. If you have a tendency to cringe at inconsistencies and nonsensical plot points, or if you're looking for a film that actually says something about the serious political topics it lands on, then I don't recommend it.
