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Steve Carell is so good in Dinner for Schmucks, so completely in sync with what director Jay Roach has planned for this reinterpretation of the French film Le diner de cons (The Dinner Game), that he single-handedly saves the movie from its many failings. And there are indeed quite a few: There's a rather uninteresting lead in the otherwise affable Paul Rudd, a psychotic ex-girlfriend (Lucy Punch) who seems lifted from a completely different film, a shady sleazoid artist (Jermaine Clement) who suffers from "a little goes a long way" syndrome, and a haughty fiance (Stephanie Szostak) who elicits no sympathy whatsoever. Not the best formula for a bit of summer funny business, right? Yet Carell is so special, and Roach handles his goofball character Barry so well, we ignore the lesser elements and celebrate how brilliant this proposed "idiot" really is.
Tim Conrad (Rudd) is sick of his job. Slumming on the sixth floor of his investment firm, he hopes to land an office on the much more fashionable seventh. During his daily meeting, he blurts out an idea involving a rich Swiss magnate (David Walliams) and captures his boss's (Bruce Greenwood) interest. In order to prove himself, Tim is invited to a monthly dinner where the other members of the office elite get together. Each brings a "special" guest to the meal, and whoever discovers the biggest loser wins the honors. If he can find a true moron, he has a chance of landing that promotion. While his beloved Julie (Szostak), an art gallery owner, thinks it's cruel, Tim believes he has found the perfect dolt in government underling Barry Speck (Carell), a weirdo who likes to build dead mouse dioramas. Little does he know that within a scant couple of days, this meek man with a good heart will totally unscramble his life -- and give him some much needed perspective.
In a world where comedy is given little serious critical acclaim, Steve Carell's performance in Dinner for Schmucks is award worthy. With a slight overbite, Dumbo ears, Member's Only fashion sense, and an endearing daftness, the Office icon turns Barry into the kind of irritant that's ingratiating, an accidental enemy you end up loving more than hating. We are supposed to root for Rudd and his upwardly mobile jerk. His love for the elusive Szostak is so preplanned you can practically see the screenplay cogs clicking away behind their patter. But like a sly spanner in the works, Carell gums up the gears, turning what should be trite and tired into an experience in unexpected hilarity. With a word, a weird sentiment, or a single look, Barry provides all the wit, poignancy, and farce that the rest of the film lacks.
Sure, there are some other key players. Walliams walks a fine line between Euro-trash and Euro-treat and Clement at least makes his "out there" photographer Kieran interesting. Even Zach Galifianakis is more than memorable as a Kreskin-loving "mentalist" out to torment co-worker Barry at every step. But the title meal (something the French version of this story didn't even show) is kind of forced, Roach stuffing the scenery with a creepy ventriloquist with a sex-starved female dummy, a blind fencing champion, a woman who talks to the dead...animals, and a guy with a vulture. Instead of being anarchic in an Addams Family kind of way, the results careen directly into convention, relying once again on Carell to step up and save the day. Of course, he does so -- magnificently.
Without this well-meaning, mentally "different" man and his mice-inspired vision, Dinner for Schmucks would be just another abysmal Hollywood attempt at translating a foreign laughfest. With Carell's Barry, it's near brilliant.
Tim Conrad (Rudd) is sick of his job. Slumming on the sixth floor of his investment firm, he hopes to land an office on the much more fashionable seventh. During his daily meeting, he blurts out an idea involving a rich Swiss magnate (David Walliams) and captures his boss's (Bruce Greenwood) interest. In order to prove himself, Tim is invited to a monthly dinner where the other members of the office elite get together. Each brings a "special" guest to the meal, and whoever discovers the biggest loser wins the honors. If he can find a true moron, he has a chance of landing that promotion. While his beloved Julie (Szostak), an art gallery owner, thinks it's cruel, Tim believes he has found the perfect dolt in government underling Barry Speck (Carell), a weirdo who likes to build dead mouse dioramas. Little does he know that within a scant couple of days, this meek man with a good heart will totally unscramble his life -- and give him some much needed perspective.
In a world where comedy is given little serious critical acclaim, Steve Carell's performance in Dinner for Schmucks is award worthy. With a slight overbite, Dumbo ears, Member's Only fashion sense, and an endearing daftness, the Office icon turns Barry into the kind of irritant that's ingratiating, an accidental enemy you end up loving more than hating. We are supposed to root for Rudd and his upwardly mobile jerk. His love for the elusive Szostak is so preplanned you can practically see the screenplay cogs clicking away behind their patter. But like a sly spanner in the works, Carell gums up the gears, turning what should be trite and tired into an experience in unexpected hilarity. With a word, a weird sentiment, or a single look, Barry provides all the wit, poignancy, and farce that the rest of the film lacks.
Sure, there are some other key players. Walliams walks a fine line between Euro-trash and Euro-treat and Clement at least makes his "out there" photographer Kieran interesting. Even Zach Galifianakis is more than memorable as a Kreskin-loving "mentalist" out to torment co-worker Barry at every step. But the title meal (something the French version of this story didn't even show) is kind of forced, Roach stuffing the scenery with a creepy ventriloquist with a sex-starved female dummy, a blind fencing champion, a woman who talks to the dead...animals, and a guy with a vulture. Instead of being anarchic in an Addams Family kind of way, the results careen directly into convention, relying once again on Carell to step up and save the day. Of course, he does so -- magnificently.
Without this well-meaning, mentally "different" man and his mice-inspired vision, Dinner for Schmucks would be just another abysmal Hollywood attempt at translating a foreign laughfest. With Carell's Barry, it's near brilliant.
