I Heart Huckabees, a self-described (i.e., self-indulgent) “existential comedy” by writer/director David O. Russell (The Three Kings, Flirting With Disaster), ambitiously attempts to insert philosophical ideas and concepts, drawn from both Eastern and Western traditions, into a Hollywood, mainstream film, with mixed, often contradictory, results. I Heart Huckabees suffers from several significant (and practically insurmountable) problems, including a large, unwieldy ensemble cast, an unfocused narrative without a sympathetic lead character (with one notable exception among the supporting characters), shallow, one-dimensional characters, an, at times, superficial and repetitive discussion of O. Russell's pet philosophical ideas (from Zen Buddhism to French nihilism), and a jerry-rigged resolution of the film's central conflict that ultimately rings hollow.
The problems with I Heart Huckabees begin with its premise, which doesn't allow for a strong, goal-oriented characters or easy audience identification with the principal characters. Here, the “existential crisis” suffered by several characters in the film is far too vague and ambiguous to support the plot. I Heart Huckabees', complicated circular, “everything and everyone is connected” plot opens with the ostensible protagonist, the angst-ridden Albert Markowski (Jason Schwartzman), a mediocre poet and environmental activist (he's the local director of an organization called “Open Spaces”) in the throes of an “existential crisis” punctuated with a stream of curse words. His activism and idealism (tinged with egotism) have led him to compromise and cooption with Huckabees, a national chain of "big box" stores that resembles an upscale Wal-Mart, complete with a poor environmental record and an even poorer public reputation. By joining Huckabees, represented by a senior sales executive, Brad Stand (Jude Law), Markowski hopes to save the local marshlands from (over)development. Stand is the anti-Markowski, charming, handsome, self-assured, materially and professionally successful, who, true to form, drives an expensive foreign car, and dates the beautiful, if shallow, Huckabees' spokesmodel, Dawn Campbell (Naomi Watts). With Stand as the principal organizer of the Open Spaces Coalition, Markowski finds himself marginalized. Markowski's personal and professional disappointments, by way of an unexplained series of coincidences involving an African doorman, lead him serendipitously to an eccentric (and “existential”) detective agency, owned and operated by a husband-and-wife-couple, Bernard (Dustin Hoffman) and Vivian (Lily Tomlin) Jaffe.
Bernard and Vivian are detectives, philosophers, and in Bernard's case, a psychologist as well. Bernard introduces Albert to his radical, Zen-flavored (by way of Southern California New-Ageism) philosophy where everything and everyone is connected by a web of physical and immaterial forces (Bernard illustrates his point via the use of a blanket), giving both the universe and human beings meaning. The guiding principle of interconnectedness adds meaning to random coincidences. Bernard also counsels Albert to dig into his psyche and discover the origins of his distress and rage. Bernard's unorthodox methods also include inserting Albert into a full-length, zippered black (body) bag. Presumably, the womblike bag will allow Albert insight into his existential condition. No surprise then that Brad Stand, the anti-Albert, is revealed as the source of Albert's current trauma.
Bernard later introduces Albert to his “other,” a fellow traveler and sufferer, Tommy Corn (Mark Wahlberg). Corn is a disgruntled, unhappy fireman (the specter of 9/11 is briefly mentioned, thankfully, without commentary) who, exposed to knowledge of widespread suffering in the world, finds himself unable (and unwilling) to live in that world. Bernard's happy talk, however, is doing little to solve Corn's own existential crisis. Instead, he turns to a French nihilist/self-help guru, Caterine Vauban (Isabelle Huppert), best-selling author of “If Not Now…”, to Bernard and Vivian's displeasure. Caterine's philosophical approach teaches the opposite of Bernard and Vivian's approach: everything is random, cruel, disconnected, and ultimately meaningless (of course, Caterine is French). Neither Caterine's nor Bernard and Vivian's approaches leave room for compromise, for a middle path between extremist positions. Further complications ensue when Albert discovers that Brad has enlisted Bernard and Vivian's services to help him handle his own conflicts. Albert soon finds himself in Caterine's orbit, "enjoying" moments of “pure being” (i.e., apparent egolessness) courtesy of a painful rubber ball to the head.
The characters, needless to say, are on a personal, life-changing journey filled with multiple reversals, moments of self- and other-awareness, and, of course, reconciliation, but, by this point in the film, O. Russell and his co-screenwriter, Jeff Baena, have left the audience left adrift, unmoored, by Caterine's entrance, which results in a dramatic dead end, in O. Russell's decision to create the film around an unsympathetic, self-centered protagonist, Albert (and not on Tommy, a far more interesting, potentially complex character, ably played by a surprising Mark Wahlberg, showing genuine conflict and emotion in his scenes), and on underwritten roles for the supporting actors, especially Brad Stand's, a shallow character with a predictable character arc (from consumerist/materialist to soul-searching navel-gazer). Obviously, O. Russell is attempting something larger here: a dialectical dance of opposites (e.g., Albert and Brad's mutual loathing (and possible reconciliation), the relationship between Vivian, Bernard, and Caterine), but his schematic, unfocused approach to the material, and weak comic elements (stronger in the first half of the film), result in, at most, an interesting failure from a director who's written and directed better films. Hopefully, O. Russell, will return to form in his next film with a more grounded narrative, goal-oriented characters, and sharper, less self-indulgent dilemmas. For a blueprint, O. Russell need look no further than his previous film, The Three Kings, one of my personal favorites (and acknowledged by most critics as one of the best American films of the 1990s).
© Mel Valentin, 21st October, 2004
|
