shoop and the smug-com

I just saw "Away We Go" with the missus, and we had a pretty good time--actually, she had a better time than I did. My lovely wife was able to achieve total identification with the the two leading characters, a somewhat directionless 30-something couple who try to find a place to settle down to raise their soon-to-arrive child. I could not achieve total identification, because aside from some specific problems I had with the characters and the story, I could see early on that I would be watching a smug-com, and not one of the few really good ones.

A cursory peek at google tells me that I've invented this term, which is fine by me. By "smug-com," I mean a comedy that scores its points through one or two main characters who are much smarter, have more integrity, and are just plain cooler than everybody else in the movie. The arc of a smug-com puts the lead characters in situations where they confront any number of cartoon ninnies and nitwits, and then gives the characters time to reflect upon how stupid the nitwits are, and how cool they themselves are. (The term "quirky" usually pops up a lot in reviews of smug-coms.) To paraphrase a very apt description from the NY Times review of "Away We Go," smug-com heroes wouldn't like you. They'd look at you with thinly disguised disdain and disgust, and then make cool jokes about you when they left. Smug-coms can appeal to large numbers of people who see themselves as too cool for the room. While I find the overall smug-com premise a major drag, I think there are a few that work, and at least one that's a classic.

I'd date the first smug-com right around 1965, the year "A Thousand Clowns" was released. Jason Robards is Murray Burns, a happy, hyper-verbal non-conformist living as responsibility-free as the guardian of a young nephew can in New York City. Robards is the smart one; everyone he meets is a moron--or someone who needs his happy guidance. The movie sounds reprehensible when I describe it that way, but it works (this one is the classic). The first reason is Robards--great actor, showing some strain, perhaps, from shooting this movie during the day and performing Arthur Miller's "After the Fall" at night, but charming as hell recreating his Broadway role. The second reason is screenwriter (and playwright) Herb Gardner's terrific dialogue--Murray's rants are hilarious and profound. Finally, the key to what elevates a smug-com above its inherent smugness--the movie is brave enough to call Murray on his attitude. That's important--that doesn't mean silly strawman characters telling the smug hero he's wrong (that happens a lot in this movie, as well as in most smug-coms), but the MOVIE ITSELF calls his attitude into question--is he selfishly endangering the welfare of his nephew? The decision Murray makes leads to one of the great freeze-frame endings--funny and sad, fundamentally right, but with no little regret.

"Away We Go" ultimately fails because the two smug heroes are vindicated in their smugness without serious question. It comes close, once, when the heroine asks, "Are we fuck-ups?" If the movie had delivered an honest answer to that question--which is "yes"--it, too, could have achieved greatness--or at least, very good-ness. Other noteworthy smug-coms follow:

"Home for the Holidays"--this time, Holly Hunter and gay brother Robert Downey, Jr. (in my vote for his all-time worst, most out-of-control performance) are the only ones who know which end is up, as Hunter prepares to spend Thanksgiving with the family. This movie scores off clueless supporting characters with sometimes shocking cruelty. Right-wing in-laws sit down to dinner and start intoning, "Cash is king"--because that's what fiscally conservative people naturally do at Thanksgiving dinners. We get to laugh at the crazy, flatulent aunt, who cuts the cheese twice for the heroes' (and ours, presumably) amusement, and we get to laugh at the sad-sack maintenance guy who's had a crush on the heroine since forever. To be fair, the film almost redeems itself in the last five minutes, when we get to see everybody's idea of their greatest day ever--it's a sudden and cleansing burst of humanity, but it arrives a bit too late.

"The Family Stone"--a lot like "Home for the Holidays," but with that crucial difference--the movie calls the smug Stones on their behavior. They treat the Sarah Jessica Parker character with unspeakable cruelty, but we also get to see that the family is acting out of love (this is how smug people love each other). I think this one was largely underrated--it's worth a look.

"American Beauty"--When the pot-smoking (and dealing) next-door neighbor tells off his catering boss, Lester Burnham, the lead character, says with something approaching awe, "You're my new hero." When this movie ended, I had two new heroes, one real, and one fictional. The real hero was actor Kevin Spacey, who found a way to infuse both his "loser" character and the smug-com in general with fresh attitude--the character takes a perversely smug pride in how total a loser he's become. And the fictional hero--Lester Burnham, who undergoes a worm-turning transition that's funny and gratifying as he tells all of his tormentors (including his family) where to get off. The movie would have been great fun if it had stopped there, but Lester and the movie go one step further--they call his new-found freedom into question as well, with the idea that Lester's still missing out on something deeper and greater. Whether Lester figures it out just in time or a little too late depends on your perspective. Okay, I'm going to go ahead and call this one a classic, too (and yes, Sam Mendes directed both this movie and "Away We Go." Clearly, he works the smug side of the street).

As for the smug-coms in general, well, it's easy to shoot fish in barrels. Self-knowledge, and putting self-knowledge into action, is a lot tougher. The great smug-coms don't settle for the easy.

Next time: shoop and hard-earned love

shoop and the geek bullies

More about bullies--this time, geek bullies. (Note: in case it is not already obvious, I consider myself a geek.)

Pre-internet, the only way a geek could get to be a bully was through role-playing games. Because as history has taught us and continues to teach us, someone who's bullied goes in one of two directions. They either commit to the idea that bullying is wrong (roughly 5-7%), or they become bullies themselves the first chance they get (everybody else). And how do geeks (most frequently the victims of conventional, give-me-your-lunch-money-you-punk bullies) become bullies? Through fantasy, geeks can become dungeon masters, kings, wizards, kick-ass warriors. Which is the ultimate fantasy for many geeks--they get to abuse people. They gain fear and respect, friends, and admirers--they get to win.

The internet opened up many more avenues for geeks to become bullies--they start their own blogs, and then abuse people through geeky put-downs. It is perhaps not surprising, though somewhat depressing, that geek bullies tend to be even more thoughtless and abusive than the Bluto-bullies. This phenomenon is partly due to what makes most geeks in the first place--that place in the brain in charge of empathy doesn't work. If you were to ask a geek, "Do you realize how insulting and abusive that statement is?", the probable response would be something along the lines of, "How is that abusive? All I'm saying is...blah, blah, blah, *snort* *fart*."

(Doubtless it is thoughtless of me to add snorts and farts to hypothetical geek dialogue, but that's just how I imagine it.)

That's why *Role Models* is such a brilliant movie. It exactly nails the geek mentality in a positive way, and it astutely dissects what makes a geek bully. The main geek (the invaluable Christopher Mintz-Plasse, an even better movie geek than the immortal Eddie Deezen) uses role-play as an avenue for his imagination, a chance to give his nobler self an outlet--and as an escape from an all-too-ignoble world. Mintz-Plasse represents geekdom at its best. What makes *Role Models* so unique is that we get to see geeks at their worst as well, in the person of King Argotron (Ken Jeong, also giving a peerless performance). The "King" is the geek with power, and he's quick to abuse it--he's the quintessential geek bully. The spectrum of geekiness is rich and full in this movie, even playing with viewers' expectations--"villains" in the game turn out to be just fun-loving geeks, as the Paul Rudd character discovers when he leads his heroic raid against the king and his henchmen. Do yourself a favor and see it, if you haven't already.

Next time: shoop and the smug-com.

shoop and the bullies

Schools are re-thinking the way they deal with bullies. They're starting to realize that torture from bullies can have long-term effects, so they're experimenting with intervention--getting the principals and parents involved, getting counseling for the victims and the bullies...all noble ideas. It won't work.

Bully intervention is doomed before it begins, for the simple reason that we love bullies. We reward bullies. We admire bullies. Bullies win.

Now that goes against everything we've been taught by TV--if you're of a certain age, you remember heroes standing up to bullies. Just stand up to a bully, pa or maw or fill-in-the-blank parental figure will say, and the bully will crumble. And on TV, he (or, later, with the national admission that women are just as capable of being bullies, she) does crumble. They either run away or become friends with the hero. And, if you're of a certain age, and you've been victimized by a bully, you've probably tried to do what they did on TV. And what happened? You got beat up, laughed at, and probably disgraced. The bully stopped picking on you whenever he or she felt like it, and not a moment before.

Sometimes, the people on TV knew they weren't telling the truth about bullies. Richard Pryor once had a kid's show, "Pryor's Place." The show died quickly, and it deserved to do so. The comic who had started by emulating Bill Cosby, then broke brilliantly and profanely free from his influence in the early 70s, had at this point in his career (not one of the high points), with corrosive irony, returned to imitating Cosby--"Pryor's Place" was meant to be a "Fat Albert" style show with Pryor giving life lessons. One life lesson was about bullies, and I'll always remember how uncomfortable Pryor seemed, telling the TV viewers, "Maybe if you talk to a bully, you'll find out a bully needs a friend." And you KNEW he didn't believe it for a second. And he was right.

Bullies don't need friends. Bullies aren't cowards. Bullies have friends, admirers, and hangers-on, and the fear and respect of all their peers. If it weren't for the annoying issue of morality, who the hell wouldn't be a bully if he or she got the chance? Look at Dr. Phil--on one particular episode, he derisively waved his hand in front of a guest's face. She was annoyed. "This is my show, and I can do what I want," Dr. Phil replied. That's right, he really said that. Classic schoolyard bully talk. And why shouldn't he be a bully? If I were to say Dr. Phil, "Dr. Phil, you're nothing but a bully. How's that workin' for ya?" Dr. Phil would say, "Well, gee, Shoop, I've got a multi-million dollar empire, millions of fans, and everybody buys my books, including my diet books, and I'm kinda built like a walrus. How do you think it's workin' for me?"

We like bullies. Because we like winners. And the bullies win.

Next time--Shoop and the geek bullies.