Punching the Clown (2009)

Directed by Gregori Viens Written by Gregori Viens, Henry Phillips Edited by Gregori Viens

Starring Henry Phillips, Ellen Ratner
***
out of 5 pesky boulders

91 minutes, unrated

Double feature it with: The Big Picture or Bob Roberts

Cut to the Chase An indie comedy about a drifting post-modern troubadour whose sudden meteoric rise to success threatens to unravel just as quickly. Uneven, funny, occasionally brilliant.
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“Michelagelo apparently once said, um, that if people knew how hard he worked, they wouldn’t call him a genius and I think with me, it’s sort of the opposite. You know, I think that if people knew how little I worked on this stuff, I don’t think they would say that I suck.” — Henry Phillips

Punching the Clown opens with singer/songwriter Henry Phillips (played by singer/songwriter Henry Phillips*) telling his tale to the host of a late night radio show (a conceit reminiscent of Joe Dirt, a favorite guilty pleasure.) The gimmick works almost as well in this smart and funny satire about a post-modern folksinger/comedian whose life on the road takes an unexpected detour to Tinsel Town.

After a long Sisyphean musical journey to nowhere, destitute Henry heads to Hollywood to crash with his brother Matt (Matt Walker), a struggling actor. Matt connects Henry with agent Ellen Pinsky (Ellen Ratner), a graduate of the Broadway Danny Rose school of small time pure-hearted personal managers.

After a quick meet and greet, Ellen convinces Henry to swing his musical schtick at Espresso Yourself Cafe Bar’s open mike night. Even after Henry wows the hipster crowd, Ellen isn’t sure how to peg or promote her newest client, but she promises him exposure if he performs at her friend’s glitzy Hollywood party. A technical glitch thwarts the effort but triggers a chain of convoluted events that accidentally make Henry an overnight success. But how long will it last?

How long does anything last? We’re all doomed anyway.

Punching the Clown is top heavy with ambling set up, but the party scene introduces a welcome shift in momentum and tone. In mocking the shallow, self-serving wheelers and dealers that define Hollywood’s vapid culture, this shindig rivals other favorite movie parties — Breakfast at Tiffany’s (the best of the best) and I Shot Andy Warhol (no slouch either).

I hate parties. Unless they’re in movies. Either way, I’m always sitting on a couch watching from a safe distance.

According to a CinemaBlend.com interview, co-writers Phillips and Viens first envisioned Punching the Clown as a mockumentary based on Henry Phillips’ real life experiences as a singer/songwriter/comedian. After studio financing fell through, Phillips and Viens — whose friendship began as UCLA students — decided to fund the production privately.

I wish I had money to make a movie. Oh well.

Instead of actively pursuing a goal, Henry’s role is to respond to a series of absurd characters and capricious circumstances. This renders him a passive protagonist. I fell into the same trap when I began writing thinly veiled semi-autobiographical plays and screenplays.

Anyway, the supporting cast is appealing, particularly Ellen Ratner as Henry’s long-suffering agent.

At best, Punching the Clown calls to mind 1989’s The Big Picture, Christopher Guest’s feature debut, a charming satire about a recent film school grad who similarly gets chewed up and regurgitated by show biz.

Don’t stay up too late watching Netflix movies! Your pal, Sisyphus Jones

UPDATE: No longer available on Netflix streaming — it was up when I wrote this review three years ago and left it as an unpublished draft until now.

    * See my review of The Trip for another case of an actor playing a semi-fictious version of himself

    ** Check out Conan O’Brien Can’t Stop (2011) for another variation on the addicted-to-performing theme

    *** Neither would my mother, a nice old Jewish lady from New Jersey. I wouldn’t watch this movie with her, because she’d start talking back to it, saying things like, “Why do young people think foul language is funny? Bob Newhart never used foul language and he was quite humorous.”

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