Uneven dramedy with overrated performances

Rating: 4/10 (29 November 2006)

I have to admit that I find this film absurdly overrated. Another of director James L. Brooks' "dramedies" the result achieves no where near the success of Terms of Endearment nor even the middling charms of Broadcast News. Obsessive-compulsive author Jack Nicholson goes into a panic attack when the one waitress (Helen Hunt) he can tolerate at his favorite restaurant is missing time due to her ill son. He gets involved in her personal life and develops romantic aspirations for her. Meanwhile, the gay artist next-door (Greg Kinnear) that Nicholson lives to belittle is beaten to a pulp. In dire straits, he asks Nicholson to accompany him on a road trip home to beg for support, and Nicholson agrees so long as he can make Hunt feel beholden to accompany them in an effort to further his tentative romantic impulses. Kinnear is likable and one cannot possibly become invested in a road trip which will logically lead to him humbling himself at the feet of people who have spurned him in the past (whether or not that actually happens is irrelevant, it still is the initial goal of the trip). The biggest problem with the film rests with the depiction of the Nicholson character and the central relationship with Hunt. He is intermittently funny with his caustic remarks, but he targets everyone indiscriminately. Cutting humor can be funny when it is puncturing holes in pompous characters a la The Marx Brothers, but far less so when it is used to figuratively eviscerate a fragile battered man. Although Nicholson does end up helping people, it is usually a by-product of his own selfishness. Further, a romantic relationship between Nicholson and Hunt as presented here is ridiculous. Not only is Nicholson old enough to be her father (an element which is not even commented upon), but they legitimately seem to have nothing in common other than her tolerance of him. Her last-minute change-of-heart at the conclusion seems ill-advised and one can easily see her changing her mind again 5 minutes after the conclusion. The fact that Nicholson and Hunt have non-existent screen chemistry apparently did not deter filmgoers and critics. Nicholson can be a great actor, but in the decade prior to About Schmidt he was largely coasting on his laurels and continually reverted to playing a glorified nut. He does so for the umpteenth time here and for some reason watching him do this yet again prompted an Oscar win. Perhaps conceivable in a weak year, but when his co-nominees included Peter Fonda, Dustin Hoffman, Robert Duvall, Matt Damon for Good Will Hunting, and strong contenders such as Leonardo DiCaprio and the male leads of L.A. Confidential were overlooked altogether, the win smacks of laziness. I am not a fan of Helen Hunt. I consider her to be the most mundane and uncharismatic of the modern crop of critically lauded actresses. She is an incredibly boring foil for Nicholson. She is believable as a put-upon waitress, but far less so as his romantic interest or as an unexpected muse for Kinnear's artistic resurgence. She inexplicably won an Oscar against the likes of Judi Dench, Julie Christie, Kate Winslet and Helena Bonham-Carter  all having a banner year. Ironically, both of the leads are out-acted by the dog next door. Kinnear, stuck in the all too familiar nice sexless gay guy role, provides the film's only natural performance. An overlong, unevenly acted and conceived mishmash that fails to gel together into a satisfying whole.