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Movie Review: I ♥ Huckabees

By William Sternman

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I ♥ Huckabees
Starring Jason Schwartzman, Jude Law, Naomi Watts, Dustin Hoffman, and Lily Tomlin
Directed by David O. Russell
Written by David O. Russell and Jeff Baena

There are several scenes in Man on the Moon in which Andy Kaufman (Jim Carrey) is performing in front of a live audience. Well, not exactly performing. Let’s say just standing there, self-absorbed, not doing very much. The audience is uneasy (which is part of Kaufman’s shtick). They don’t know what’s going on or how to react. It’s supposed to be funny, isn’t it? Or is it? Some people laugh nervously; others laugh because they feel it must be funny and they’re not getting it. (It’s a little like Rosalind Russell getting drunk in Picnic and trying desperately to prove to everyone around, but especially herself, that she’s having fun.)

I experienced similar feelings watching David O. Russell’s follow-up to his Three Kings, which I disliked, and Spanking the Monkey, which I did not. From the frenetic, over-the-top, toothpaste-grin performances of Lily Tomlin, Dustin Hoffman (who, despite The Graduate, has absolutely no flair for comedy), Jude Law and Naomi Watts, you have to assume that this is a funny flick. Like Roz, they’re certainly trying hard enough to prove it.

So why wasn’t I laughing? Why was I imitating President H. W. Bush by sneaking guilty glances at my watch? Why did my bum feel so bummed out? Why couldn’t I stuff enough food into my mouth?

To begin with, there’s a difference between an assumption and a reaction. Intellectualization is not the same thing as spontaneity, just as LOL and hehehe are not the same as laughter.

Jeff Baena and David O. Russell’s script is obviously meant to be a satire—but of what? Supposedly of quirky New Age self-improvement regimens. But isn’t New Age old hat by now? Isn’t satirizing self-parody akin to shooting fish in a petri dish? And don’t you really have to know what is being satirized for it to have any bite? (Imagine the hilarity of satirizing the sex life of an amoeba. “Kiss me, I’m undergoing binary fission!”)

At the same time, Huckabees works hard to demonstrate that there’s a social conscience inside its empty head.

Jason Schwartzman encircles a large rock with yellow police “do not cross” tape to protect this bit of virgin territory against the encroachment of the money-grubbing Huckabees super-store chain. (Wal-Mart, anyone?) Unbeknownst to him, Jude Law, a Huckabees wannabe, infiltrates Schwartzman’s Open Spaces Coalition by pretending to be sympathetic to the tree-hugger while really interested in good old-fashioned hugger-mugger. Because Schwartzman keeps running into the same Nigerian émigré, he enlists the professional services of existential detectives Lily Tomlin and Dustin Hoffman, who are also consulted by Law. Tomlin matches Schwartzman with his “other” (Mark Wahlberg), an anti-petroleum crusader. And there’s… But you get the idea. Don’t you?

The director's pacing here is feverish, perhaps to cover up the fact that his film is neither funny nor comprehensible. Taking a cue from the TV-news dictum that if it bleeds, it leads, Russell seems to feel that if it moves, it grooves. Tongue in groove (if not cheek) might have been even groovier; at least it would have passed the time.

At the same time, the cast (except for Wahlberg) plays every scene at the same level of intensity. There are no peaks and valleys, no downtime, no instant to think about what you’re seeing. But why would you? Isn’t this the point? A roller coaster is its own reward. You don’t need to take Baruch Spinoza along for the ride.

Even more important, there’s no one at home behind the cast’s sparkling eyes and flashing teeth. All the lights are on, but the family has fled to Tierra del Fuego while they were at school and left all of them home alone.

Wahlberg has come a long way since his navel-observatory stints as Marky Mark for Calvin Klein. He has, to my surprise, developed into an excellent actor. Despite Russell’s anarchic direction, he manages to give a human face to a caricature. His fellow actors, however impressive they may have been in other movies, don’t even bother to phone in their parts; they use Pony Express.

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William Sternman's short stories have been published in England, Hungary, Pakistan, South Africa, Australia, New Zealand and Japan, as well as the U.S. His book and movie reviews have appeared in Audience, Films in Review, Bestsellers, The Drummer, The Philadelphia Inquirer, The Houston Chronicle, The Boston Herald, The St. Petersburg Times and www.movie-vault.com. He has been a volunteer tutor at the Center for Literacy since 1998. He received a fellowship grant in literature from the Pennsylvania Council on the Arts.

© 2004 Me Three