Hard to ♥, Impossible to Ignore

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The New York Sun

Were Jerry Lewis to direct a screenplay by Charlie Kauffman, it might look something like “I ♥ Huckabees.” As it happens, “♥” is the eagerly anticipated new film by David O. Russell – and if he hadn’t already named a movie “Flirting With Disaster” he’d have had a good title for his latest. When talking about it – and you’ll definitely be talking about this one – don’t say “love,” say “heart”: “I Heart Huckabees.” And that’s as it should be: This manic, unruly, outrageously didactic comedy isn’t easy to love, but it’s far too unusual to dismiss.


Jason Schwartzman stars as sadsack poet-activist Albert Markovski, founder of the Open Spaces Coalition. When not declaiming insipid vers libre or pedaling his bicycle in synch to twee instrumentals, he protects meadowlands from the soul-sucking Huckabees corporation, a ubiquitous lifestyle emporium fronted by the supercilious Brad Stand (Jude Law). Albert, who is troubled by an apparently coincidental set of encounters with a Sudanese doorman, hires a pair of “existential detectives” (Lily Tomlin and Dustin Hoffman) to unravel for him the conundrums of post-9/11 20-somethingdom.


As part of their optimistic methodology, these very private dicks pair Albert with an angry fireman (Mark Wahlberg), who blames the world’s ills on petroleum politics. Meanwhile, the detective’s former protegee (Isabelle Huppert) shows up to sabotage their holistic investigation with her own seductive creed of nihilism, and the Huckabees spokeswoman (Naomi Watts) starts to crack up.


A crazy treatise on our mad, mad world, “I ♥ Huckabees” unspools like a kooky karmic cartoon: Arbitrary CGI dream sequences next to histrionic meltdowns next to philosophical monologues next to Shania Twain cameos. A representative scene involves impromptu enlightenment via self-flagellation with a giant rubber ball. Deep Thoughts (if not laughs) come fast and furious as the members of the puppet ensemble mouth discourse rather than dialogue.


Is the universe harmonically ordered or creatively chaotic? Are corporations – gasp! – potentially dehumanizing? Is celebrity problematic? Are we all feeling a little frazzled these days? Should we follow our bliss? If Jean Paul Sartre played Twister with Alan Watts, who would win? In a nut(ty) shell, “I ♥ Huckabees” is what happens when you dress the zeitgeist in funny clothes and chuck it the romper room.


The film’s relentless anti-naturalism is both exciting and tedious. Little this side of Godard is so brazenly textual; little this side of “Magnolia” so gratingly hysteric. Mr. Russell’s heady script – to say nothing of his notoriously abusive onset behavior – is tricky stuff to negotiate, and few of the assembled pros make it through intact.


Mr. Schwartzman, seemingly cast for his lingering “Rushmore” status as a minor icon of Gen X whimsy, roves over the screen with all the dimension of a colorless Colorform. Mr. Hoffman’s bowl cut is the least of his embarrassments; you can feel him squirming to find a center of gravity in this wacky universe. Ms. Tomlin, more at home in the margins, is convincing (to a point) as the more procedural, less abstract of the existential detectives.


Ms. Huppert, as the ice-queen sex theorist, sends up her own persona to limited if amusing effect. Ms. Watts, a hurricane of an actress, storms into the glib carpe-diem crisis of her busted corporate spokeswoman. Mr. Law – how many freaking people are there in this thing?


One more worth mentioning, at least: Mr. Wahlberg busts the best moves of the funky bunch, riveting as the disgruntled, soul-searching fireman. It’s only through this characterization that Mr. Russell manages to grab onto and rattle the War on Terror zeitgeist – the frayed nerves, the unfocused fear and loathing, the angry oscillation between pessimism and faith. He alone signifies something in the sound and fury of “I ♥ Huckabees.”


The New York Sun

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