You can’t nail comedy. Actually, rephrase that; you need skill and prowess to execute your comedy at just the right moments. All too often, a screenwriter, a comic, a director, a drunken partygoer, a backyard hooligan either lacks the patience or feels the need to expedite the patience required for the best comedic results. The best comedies which have gone down in cinematic history, from It Happened One Night and The Graduate to Animal House and recently Knocked Up, have done so because of their impeccable sense of comedic timing. Characters are fleshed out and situations are given the time and steady hand to escape the clutches of a quick sight-gag and blossom into an erroneous cacophony of hilarious interactions. Whoever said you don’t need a brain in comedy is likely the same person worshiping Pauly Shore; they just don’t get it.
Steven Soderbergh is a chameleon in the film industry. Not far removed from contemporaries like Joel and Ethan Coen, the writer/producer/director first made his name in 1989 with the critically praised and unexpected box-office breadwinner sex, lies, and videotape. The film brought independent film into the mainstream, helping define the 90s and laying the foundations for independent successes in two Quentin Tarantino pictures and, among others, illustrating the means for triumph in Neil Jordan‘s Crying Game and Jane Campion‘s The Piano. Since his fallout from Hollywood (with The Underneath) and his resuscitation in independent cinema (the surrealist head trip Schizopolis), Soderbergh has managed to tread the fine line between art and blockbuster. If his recent trajectory is any indication, it shows a director versatile and skillful enough to straddle Hollywood (Traffic, Ocean’s Eleven) while cranking out smaller, thoughtful pictures (Solaris, The Girlfriend Experience). It is from this canon of experience that The Informant! gains its charm.
Black comedy is tricky. The best in perpetual darkness have shown audiences that it is okay to have a laugh at situations they might otherwise find unfunny. A very thin line exists between prodding and tastelessness, one that has blurred increasingly as slapstick has given way under the weight of the gross-out comedy. A masterful black comedy seeks to illustrate depravity and discomfort. It is as if the audience forces itself to laugh in desperation, begging that the celluloid to change stills. It is a market that caters to our anxieties and pet peeves, enlarging and exaggerating them until we bite our nails at the behest of the assurance that what we are seeing is purely fiction. This is why The Informant! succeeds. The film’s first frames explain that the story is true. The film is based on a novel of the same name. (I haven’t read the novel, but if the movie is any indication, it has to be a riot). At the risk of giving away too much of the plot (this film is one of those instances where the trailer manages to give hardly anything away), the proceedings are abbreviated for the sake of happy viewership.
The story concerns corporate greed, individual psychoses, self-esteem issues, depravity, criminal negligence, and a running narration concerning corn, shoelaces, penguins, and material goods. A heady and coercive concoction, but one that begs to be ripe with flaws. With any other director, it would likely burn in flames, but with Soderbergh it finds its home. The action is deathly serious and the consequences are dire, but the proceedings aren’t. With a righteously satirical funk soundtrack and an amazing lead performance, the film elevates itself from tired comedy to unnerving black comedy. Matt Damon owns this show. One could go so far in saying this entire production rests on his shoulders. His obese, stuttering, clueless character is simultaneously adorable, hilarious, and utterly loathsome. He is a strange brew of multiple emotions, but never does he come off unconvincing. He narrates most of the film, butting in during key conversations with a non-diegetic inner-dialogue concerning his scatterbrained notions involving anything and everything from briefcases to how much money he makes. He’s like Patrick Bateman without the suave, the cunning, or the intellect. He also isn’t a serial killer, but he’s just as criminal. The supporting cast is no less talented, featuring a pitch perfect Scott Bakula as the FBI agent involved in the whole mess.
There’s a lot more to this film than its trailers would suggest. Like Observe and Report and Adventureland before it, this is a whole different beast once the projectors roll. While this surely isn’t Soderbergh or Damon’s best work to date, The Informant! serves as a darkly comic experiment that works. The movie fires on all cylinders, but it often burns a little too close for comfort. While this is the work of an assured auteur, there are points where everything starts losing its humour. If you’re up for a scathing comedy that pokes fun at deviant behaviour, check this one out. It’s visually assured and an absolute riot.
(8.5/10)
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