Three stars. Rating: R, for relentless profanity and crude language, sexual content and brief nudity
By Derrick Bang
While not the total train wreck
that its pleading, seemingly anxious social media publicity campaign might
suggest, this little flick also isn’t much to write home about.
First-time scripter Andrew Dodge
definitely wants the Bad Santa vibe,
and at times he comes close ... but that dark-dark-dark 2003 comedy was an inspired blend of talent (Billy Bob
Thornton) and superior material: a perfect marriage that Dodge too frequently
fails to consummate with this film’s Jason Bateman, who both stars and makes his big-screen directing debut.
I’ve never understood Bateman’s
appeal. As with Paul Rudd — another over-valued and under-talented, so-called
comic player — Bateman swans his way through every role with condescending
indifference, as if wanting to ensure that we all understand the big favor he’s
doing us, merely by appearing on the screen. It’s an irritating affectation, as
far removed from actual acting as a singer lip-synched by somebody off-stage.
But I digress.
Goodness knows, it’s long past
time to satirize the rarefied, hyper-competitive world of children’s spelling
bees. Given that Jeffrey Blitz’s marvelous documentary — Spellbound — came out more than a decade ago, some sort of comedic
riff should have followed within a few years. On the other hand, there’s
something to be said for waiting, since Bad
Words has the good fortune to ride the serendipitous publicity of the
jaw-dropping competition at this year’s Jackson County Spelling Bee, held just
a few weeks ago, when the event finale had to be postponed after the remaining
two contestants went 66 rounds without breaking their stand-off ... because the
organizers ran out of words (!).
Bad Words never quite gets the mix right,
however. Humiliating children via edgy humor is a dicey prospect, requiring a
razor’s-edge awareness that going too far risks alienating one’s audience.
Ultimately, Bateman and Dodge don’t skewer spelling bees with near the wit or
snarky panache that, say, director Michael Ritchie and scripter Jerry Belson
brought to 1975’s Smile, their
dead-on assault on teenage beauty pageants.
I’ll say this for Bad Words, though: All concerned don’t
waste any time. At an economical 88 minutes, this unsettling comedy never
becomes tedious.
Trouble is, it never quite
achieves glory, either.
Bateman stars as Guy Trilby, a
smug misanthrope introduced as he crashes a regional qualifier for the
prestigious Golden Quill National Spelling Bee. Trilby gets away with this
scheme by exploiting a hiccup in the official rules; he never completed eighth
grade, and therefore remains eligible ... despite being 40.
The bee organizers are aghast;
the doting parents of all his youthful competitors are incensed. But Trilby
stubbornly sticks to his guns, backing up his loophole with the threat of legal
reprisal under the watchful, note-taking eye of reporter Jenny Widgeon (Kathryn
Hahn), tagging along for an in-depth story on the whole imbroglio.
It becomes clear that Guy has a
method to his madness; his behavior isn’t sheer caprice. But he remains an
irritating closed book to Jenny — and to us — despite her repeated efforts to
elicit even minor background detail, let alone the actual reason he has
embarked on a campaign soon to make him the most hated man in America.
Because, as it turns out, Guy is
no amateur; he has the spelling chops to face down any word thrown in his
direction ... and, before this movie is over, we’ll share in some of the most
hilariously weird ones ever to have populated the King’s English.
Having aced the first round, Guy
winds up in sunny California, site of the Golden Quill itself. This prestigious
event is governed by the grandfatherly Dr. Bowman (Philip Baker Hall) and
overseen by administrator Bernice Deagan (Allison Janney), both of whom are
determined to get Guy tossed. Somehow. By any means necessary.
Starting with his hotel
accommodations: a supply closet having neither bathroom facilities nor a
minibar.
Trouble is, Guy’s
take-no-prisoners attitude makes him impregnable. He simply doesn’t care if he prompts cold stares merely by
entering a room, nor does he have a better nature to which one can appeal. And
if anybody — say, a disgusted parent — makes the mistake of insulting him, Guy
blandly unleashes the equivalent of a verbal thermonuclear bomb.
Gotta give credit where due: His
profane, breathtakingly vulgar rejoinders are the stuff of legend.
Guy soon becomes an object of
curiosity to one of his competitors: 10-year-old Chaitanya Chopra (Rohan
Chand), a wide-eyed charmer unfazed by Guy’s rude, crude and belittling
behavior. At this point, Dodge’s script exploits the Bad Santa template to the max, with adorable Chaitanya refusing to
be bothered by Guy’s boorish manner, just as Thornton couldn’t do anything to
shake little Brett Kelly.
And of course we wonder: Where
will this narrative go now?
Taken individually, several of
this film’s isolated parts work quite well. The developing dynamic between Guy
and Chaitanya is a hoot, mostly because Chand is such a precocious
scene-stealer. And since Chaitanya is
a trusting innocent, we’re simultaneously horrified and tickled by Guy’s
various efforts to, ah, “educate” the boy.
Janney is wonderful as the
imperious Deagan, injecting icy disapproval into every syllable during her
clipped conversations with Guy. Unfortunately — maddeningly! — this role is
woefully under-developed, and Janney vanishes from the third act: an artistic
mistake so baffling that one wonders if the film’s budget could afford her
services only for so many days.
The always enjoyable Hahn
skillfully navigates her character’s amusing extremes. On the one hand, Jenny
must be credible as an investigate journalist, and Hahn handles that reasonably
well. At the same time, Jenny is a sex addict with atrocious taste in men, and
her couplings, as this story proceeds, are pretty funny. And loud.
Hall exudes old-world dignity as
the Golden Quill’s paterfamilias, and Steve Witting shines as the spelling bee
proctor who must feed an increasingly treacherous list of words to the
contestants.
As director, Bateman shrewdly
borrows the on-screen television graphics traditionally employed to share these
words with the audience at home: a savvy touch that both reminds us of what is
being satirized, while also allowing us to follow each contestant’s
performance, letter by letter.
Unfortunately, the film — as a
whole — is much less than the sum of these parts. The blame here falls on
Bateman’s shoulders; as the star, he doesn’t anchor the material. He overplays
Guy’s stoic camouflage to the point that he remains one-dimensional, even when
the script demands a sliver of vulnerability. To all appearances, Bateman
simply can’t be bothered; his determined indifference, as an actor, perfectly
complements Guy’s caustic apathy, as a character.
We don’t know a thing about Guy’s
past — where he came from, what he does for a living — and it’s impossible to
imagine what he will do, or where he’ll be, 15 minutes after this story ends.
And yes, while the eventual “big reveal” regarding Guy’s motive does grant a
sort of closure, it certainly doesn’t explain why he’s so mean to everybody.
That’s the danger of creating a
character driven by a “mystery.” Scripters too often write themselves into a corner,
and the ultimate answer rarely satisfies expectation.
Ultimately, then, Bad Words will be good on a larkish
Friday night, for viewers with minimal expectations. But it won’t even be a
footnote in our memories six months from now, and it certainly won’t jump-start
Bateman’s directorial career.
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