Brief Interviews with Hideous Men

Released:  January 19^th, 2009

Rated:  Unrated

Distributor:  IFC Films

Starring:  Julianne Nicholson, Timothy Hutton, Max Minghella, Lou Taylor Pucci, Dominic Cooper

Directed by:  John Krasinski

Written by:  John Krasinski

Personal Bias Alert:  haven’t read any David Foster Wallace, likes batting around ideas

7 of 10

            Some movies have a certain rhythm that, when starting the film, makes you feel like you’re jumping on a slow-moving train.  You know that it will continue to chug along, never gaining too much speed nor grinding to a halt, giving you a comforting sense of consistency.  There’s an awareness that you can jump off whenever you want, and although nothing particularly riveting is happening, you stay along for the ride.  That’s what watching Brief Interviews with Hideous Men feels like; it’s brisk and pleasant, never overly impressing you, but never giving you a reason to turn away.

            As an adaptation, Brief Interviews comes with some particularly difficult obstacles to overcome.  First off, it’s based on a collection of short stories instead of a complete novel, so a through line following a female interviewer had to be created to give the stories some overarching structure.  Second, the stories were written by David Foster Wallace, an author known as much for the quality of his writing as the density of it.  Several studios have optioned Wallace’s work only to have the projects fall apart when the screenwriters get lost trying to distill the piece.  This is, in fact, the only adaptation to make it to audiences, brought to us by The Office star John Krasinski.  Considering he had never written nor directed before, he will undoubtedly seem like one of the last people capable of pulling the feat off.  His inexperience shows, but so does his enthusiasm and love for the material, and it’s this energy that carries you through the ups and downs of the piece.

            Krasinski does have a small role, but the lead belongs to the purposefully enigmatic Julianne Nicholson.  She plays the created character, the interviewer of the hideous men, gathering their monologues for some sort of psychological or philosophical research.  She says little, her face remaining placid throughout each interaction.  You come to realize that this isn’t a facade for her research but her natural state, and the reasons for her questions may be more personal than she lets on.  Nicholson does a remarkable job of giving the audience just enough to suss out her character’s thoughts, often using only a slight adjustment of her face to convey how many wheels are turning in her head.

            The cast of hideous men is filled with TV actors that presumably are friendly with Krasinski.  They breeze on and do their small roles, often having been matched to characters that fit comfortably in their wheelhouse.  Wallace’s words here are the real stars, conveying male embarrassment and the occasional challenging hypothesis with humor.  It does, at times, cross the line into grandiose self-importance, but for each slip there’s a new and delightful story nipping at its heels.  By the end, the men’s stories are sliding in and out of each other, forming into the interviewer’s hideously twisted perception of men until it ends with her quietly observing the culmination of her findings:  the most hideous man of all.

            For the most part, Brief Interviews is a bare-bones production, with basic (and cheap) sets, costumes, and music.  The one flourish is the camerawork, which initially seems out of place until you realize how much its working with the script to simulate the interworkings of the interviewer’s mind.  It’s small things at first, like seeing the men’s stories play out around them, through which we see how she imagines their roles in them.  By the end of the movie, reality becomes even more lost as she imagines them telling the same manipulative stories over and over again, or, in a riveting sequence, we see a series of intercut conversations that escalate in emotion and honesty, forming into a frenzy of ideas that she may or may not accept.

           

The whole enterprise is a tightrope to walk, one which Krasinski and company often fall off of, but what’s exciting is how they always jump right back on, too enthused to realize their failings.

Other Notes:

Ø  The last scene was overwritten.

Ø  I like the chorus section of the two college students talking about what modern women want.

Ø  “I don’t suppose you know where the little wrangler’s room is in this place, do you?”

Ø  That title, though.  That’s a great title.