Reel.com
1999
Given the chance to be another person, it's unlikely that most people would opt for John Malkovich, the actor whose edgy energy lends itself as easily to portrayals of mental midgets (Of Mice and Men, The Ogre) as it does to malevolent masterminds (Dangerous Liaisons, Con Air). But in director Spike Jonze's unique comedy Being John Malkovich, numerous folks discover that inhabiting the offbeat star's skin is a deeply rewarding and meaningful experience.
Before I start revealing plot details, let me just say this: If you want to see one of the most original, bizarre, and oddly charming films ever to come out of Hollywood, a comedy that mixes inspired hilarity and surreal poignancy, that takes off in all kinds of intriguing and unpredictable directions, that isn't all about fart jokes and semi-naked teens, then avoid any and all reviews and go see this movie NOW.
For those of you still reading, here's the basics of a plot which, due to its deft absurdity, defies easy synopsis: Craig Schwartz (John Cusack, sporting shaggy hair and a scruffy beard) is a down-on-his-luck puppeteer living in New York City. Though wildly talented, Craig is unable to find work, in part due to his uncompromising attitude towards his art he's the sort of puppeteer who gets punched out by a concerned father for staging a sidewalk show about medieval lovers Heloise and Abelard, complete with plaintive moans and suggestive autoeroticism. At the urging of his wife Lotte (Cameron Diaz, in full frump mode), Craig takes a job as a filing clerk, his dexterous fingers making him ideally suited for the position. In the first inkling of the surrealism to follow, the company that hires him turns out to be on the 7½th floor of a Manhattan office building, with ceilings so low that employees are forced to walk around stooped over. Here Craig meets and instantly falls for Maxine (Catherine Keener), a beautiful-yet-haughty ice queen who has zero time for him. He also discovers a hidden passageway in his office, which leads and this is where things get really strange directly into the consciousness of John Malkovich, allowing Craig to see the world through the actor's eyes. Unfortunately, this experience lasts only 15 minutes before he is unceremoniously and inexplicably dumped on the side of the New Jersey Turnpike.
It only gets weirder and more wonderful from there. Screenwriter Charlie Kaufman's script is utterly fresh, balancing big laughs with a surprisingly deep exploration of identity and human desire. Jonze, making his feature debut after a successful career in music videos (Weezer's Buddy Holly, Beastie Boys' Sabotage), wisely avoids showy camera moves and flashy editing, grounding the surreal proceedings in a matter-of-fact visual style that keeps things feeling real even as they get progressively fantastic.
Cusack, whom I have never liked before, succeeds in making Craig both pathetic and endearing. Diaz is absolutely hysterical and nearly unrecognizable in her role as a dowdy woman whose experience as Malkovich causes her to re-evaluate her sexuality. Longtime indie favorite Keener hits every right note as the calculating Maxine, as does old-timer Orson Bean as Craig's nutty boss. And then, of course, there's John Malkovich, playing a slightly skewed version of himself (here dubbed "John Horatio Malkovich") that has to be one of the best self-parodies ever committed to celluloid.
In some strange way, Being John Malkovich is the dizzy flip side of Fight Club; both films involve people going to extremes to change their lives amidst the absurdity of the late-'90s urban existence. But instead of the end-of-the-millennium chic of Fight Club's savage humor, Jones' farce offers up a delightfully un-trendy dose of loopy wit. If this becomes the hit that it deserves to be, the year 2000 is bound to be full of surreal comedies trying to be Being John Malkovich.
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