| Bilgi : The first thing you should know about
American Dreamz, the new film from writer/director Paul
Weitz, is that it's a satire. It cannot, therefore, be held
accountable for gaping plot holes, implausible set-ups, Iraqi
terrorists who speak to each other in accented English,
presidential figures who are more lobotomized than
caricatured, and truly dreadful American Idol pop song
parodies. All of the above are an intentional part of the fun.
You should also know, however, that American Dreamz's
brand of satire is closer to Saturday Night Live than
Oscar Wilde. Writer/director Paul Weitz hits his targets
mostly because they're too wide to miss, and there's nothing
particularly nuanced about his portrayal of (North) America's
obsession with celebrity (and apathy about most everything
else). Still, cheap or otherwise, there are plenty of laughs.
American Dreamz ain't subtle, but it's amusing.
The First Act careens between four main
stories, all critical to the set-up of the film. In the
opening scenes we are introduced to Martin Tweed, the host,
judge and producer of the singing contest American
Dreamz—the most watched television series in America. His
wardrobe (and matching ego) are strikingly Seacrest-esque,
while his acerbic wit would make Simon Cowell proud. Hugh
Grant (last paired with Weitz in the stellar About a
Boy) excels at playing charismatic, self-loathing
manipulators, and he hits the mark once again as the charming
and miserable Tweed. He informs his staff that he is bored of
the usual contestants and orders them to find, among other
things, an "Arab" and a "Jew" to compete on the show.
The President (Dennis Quaid)
makes a guest appearance as a judge on 'American
Dreamz,' hosted by Martin Tweed (Hugh Grant)
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Meanwhile, at an Iraqi terrorist training
camp (and video shoot) we are introduced to a hapless,
show-tune loving trainee named Omer. Though seeking
retribution for his mother's death in an American bombing,
Omer's heart is clearly more tender than vengeful, and his
superiors quickly determine that he has little aptitude for
the terrorist business. They send him to live with some
distant relatives in Orange County, telling him to await
"activation" once he reaches America. The plan is really to
leave him there in obscurity, but that changes when his
unanticipated success on American Dreamz puts him in a
uniquely ideal position to strike a deadly blow to the heart
of American culture.
The third opening story involves the
President of the United States, played by Dennis Quaid as a
lovable idiot who, on the day of his reelection, makes the
tragic mistake of reading a newspaper for the first time in
years. Suddenly paralyzed by the complexity of the situations
he's been asked to manage (which seemed black and white when
other members of his staff handled the research), President
Staton refuses to meet with the press and remains sequestered
in his room, poring over books and discovering troubling new
information. When rumors of a presidential breakdown get out
of hand, Staton's Svengali-like Chief of Staff (a chrome-domed
Willem Dafoe) sets up a media tour to repair the damage. First
stop: Celebrity judge on the season finale of American
Dreamz.
But wait, there's more! The fourth central
figure in the film is Sally Kendoo (a riveting Mandy Moore), a
young Ohio Karaoke star who is as winsome as she is ruthless
in her quest to win the American Dreamz singing
contest. Tweed immediately recognizes Sally's duplicity
(including her willingness to exploit the unrequited
affections of her war vet ex-boyfriend) and finds it
attractive, setting the stage for an odd and understated
romance that becomes the heart of the film.
The Chief of Staff (Willem Dafoe)
tries to get to put in an earpiece
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The first thirty or forty minutes of
American Dreamz cover a tremendous amount of ground and
are, not surprisingly, labored. On at least three occasions
the task of introducing and contextualizing so many characters
seems to overtake Weitz and reduces him to the use of somewhat
randomly inserted pratfalls and sight gags. Once the basic
set-up is established, however, the movie begins to hit its
stride, and its final hour is consistently engaging.
Though Weitz clearly sets his sights on the
decline of American politics throughout American Dreamz
(reminding us repeatedly that more people vote for the next
singing star than they do for the next Commander-in-Chief),
the satire is surprisingly toothless. As a Canadian, I find it
difficult to predict how offensive some viewers may find the
political humor, but it strikes me as rather benign. The
real President of the United States is capable of
delivering hilarious one-liners (intentional or otherwise) any
day of the week; Staton's comedic dialogue is, frankly,
inferior. And though the trailer for the movie may lead
viewers to expect a skewering of the presidential figure,
Quaid's president is undeniably dumb but also, ultimately, one
of the most noble and decent characters in the film.
Conniving steel magnolia Sally
(Mandy Moore) makes a grand appearance as a contestant,
while Tweed looks on
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American Dreamz's parody of America's
cultural fixation with celebrity has a little more bite. But
even here Weitz is faced with a struggle—a phenomenon like
American Idol (and reality TV in general) has already
become so extreme and self-parodying that there is little left
to exaggerate. The best moments in the singing contest come
from the interplay between Omer and his
wanna-be-star-turned-manager cousin Iqbal (Tony Yalda). Yalda
is a hysterical bundle of aspiration, insecurity and truly
catastrophic dance moves, all of which he generously passes on
to his cousin.
What is unusual about a film like American
Dreamz is how likable its principle characters are, even
the ones most central to the satire. Whether he means to or
not, Weitz gives us enough insight into the wounded psyches of
each of his players to make us care about them. He aims to cut
and skewer, and he does a bit of that, in a broad, easy-target
sort of way. But ultimately his ability to explore and expose
human nature trumps his sarcastic agenda. In a way, this film
talks out of both sides of its mouth—lampooning and loving its
targets at the same time. But most viewers, I suspect, won't
mind. It's fun to root for someone and laugh at him or her at
the same time. (How else do you explain William Hung?) Maybe
it's even a part of the American Dream. |
