Co-stars save Braff’s collage of cliches
Walter Mitty meet Aidan Bloom. Or, to be more precise, Ben Stiller meet Zach Braff — your undiscovered soulmate who suffers from the same narcissism-tinged neurosis.
Sure, all that quasi-sincere insecurity is supposed to come off as charming self-effacement, but behind all that well-manicured five o’clock shadow and those selfconscious profile shots sit an irritating sense of self-importance.
It’s even written into the character. Aidan Bloom (Zach Braff) is an actor who has not collected a decent paycheque since he did a commercial for an anti-dandruff shampoo, but he still hangs on to his dream because he believes it will make him happy.
Aidan thinks he’s following the righteous path of creative truth. But to the outside world, he looks like a selfish baby without any ability to see beyond his own boyhood fantasy of fame, fortune and saving the galaxy in a space suit.
The movie actually opens with a dream sequence of Aidan wearing a futuristic combat outfit and running through the woods with a robot-like sidekick and a giant glowing sword.
It’s a Catcher in the Rye-inspired moment that’s supposed to help us understand Aidan’s headspace: He’s alone, left to shoot out the villains of doubt and adult responsibility inside his own head.
But in fact, Aidan is not alone at all. He has two kids (Joey King, Pierce Gagnon) and a beautiful wife (Kate Hudson) who love him. They’re incredibly sympathetic to Aidan, but he still feels like nobody really understands him and walks through the movie with a prissy little pout.
Meanwhile, his wife puts up with a sexist pig at work to bring home the bacon while Aidan whines about everything from his domineering father, to the local rabbi, to his estranged brother Noah (Josh Gad) who lives in a trailer near the beach. Noah seems angry with everyone, too, and when Aidan tells him their father (Mandy Patinkin) is sick, he seems unfazed. He doesn’t want to face another death in the family, so he focuses his attention in the woman next door.
The script feels baked in Little Miss Sunshine to the point of melt as it tries to combine a dying parent, a desperate job search and sibling dynamic into one narrative.
And despite the inherent contrivance, these elements can work because they are all real-life scenarios most of us are forced to face. But this movie feels so canned and so self-conscious, we can’t surrender to its schmaltz.
Like Stiller’s Walter Mitty, we get the feeling Braff has studied his every angle in the mirror to make sure he finds his most flattering side for every scene. And even when he’s supposed to be a total jerk, he goes out of his way to soften the scene to avoid looking like a self-consumed egoist.
The only thing that saves Braff’s film — and the long shadow of self he casts upon it — is the supporting cast of players who, unlike writer-director Braff, focus on the demands of the role instead of how sympathetic they’ll appear to the audience.
Hudson does a great job playing the indefatigable female who fights for her family, and her man, with just enough decolletage to give her screen presence. The kids are also fantastic because they don’t mind looking a little selfish or childlike. Even Gad does a great job pushing his unlikable character into three dimensions because he’s not desperate to be liked.
It’s Braff who makes this movie suffer because his alter ego refuses to accept his own selfishness.
He camouflages the immaturity as creative passion, but it’s a lost cause because the movie itself is just a collage of various cliche with Braff standing in the middle looking befuddled, while everyone around him moves dramatic mountains in a bid to make him look good.