Sisyphus Jones: The Pursuit of Unhappiness

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

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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“Everything is exhausting in your forties.”

Directed by Michael Winterbottom
Starring Steve Coogan and Rob Brydon as themselves
***1/2 out of 5 pesky boulders
Bottom line: This British bromance foodie roadtrip comedy is light on plot but nicely spiced with witty banter and amusing impressions, gorgeous scenery, and food porn.  

Perhaps because the dialogue is largely improvised, the Netflix blurb writer misidentifies The Trip as a mockumentary. (Dear Netflix: Please fire your lazy blurb writer and hire me. I’m not doing anything special right now). Actually, The Trip is a bromance foodie road movie. Think a British Sideways but instead of touring Napa Valley wine country, pals Steve Coogan (played by Coogan) and Rob Brydon (Brydon) embark on a foodie tour through Northern England.

The trip was meant to be a writing assignment and romantic getaway arranged by Coogan’s young American girlfriend Misha until the couple decided to go on relationship hiatus. Although Misha has returned to the States to pursue her writing career, Coogan decides to go through with the trip anyway, presumably to write the article himself and also because the magazine is picking up the tab so why waste an all expense-paid trip?  (Although, I don’t recall Coogan ever taking a single note while sampling the cuisine).

Coogan invites his pal Brydon in Misha’s place, but only after his second and third choice decline. They’re both working actors but Coogan is a melancholy, skirt-chasing divorced father of a teenage son and Brydon is an even-tempered family man with a young wife and new baby. After departing London, the friends drive, walk, banter, and eat their way through progressively lovelier stretches of Northern England countryside.

It takes a while for Coogan to accept that Brydon isn’t Misha and the trip will be anything but a romantic getaway. Mostly, the friends exchange witty banter while shoveling down high-class grub, driving, and touring various points of picturesque interest. None of this advances anything that resembles a traditional plot which Coogan knowingly acknowledges in the following clip:

Throughout, Brydon performs spontaneous impressions that approach a Robin Williams I-just-can’t-stop pathology. Coogan is occasionally amused, but more often irritated or even threatened. Often, a gauntlet is thrown down that sparks delightful duels of competitive impressionist oneupmanship. The ongoing dueling Michael Caine contest is particularly inspired.

A throwaway line that Brydon delivers in the voice of Woody Allen actually made me laugh out loud. At least, I think so. I’m more of a laugh-on-the-inside personality than a routine LOL-er, but this particular line triggered a vocal explosion that sounded something like the baritone mating call of a congested crocodile.

Along the way, Coogan wrestles with a few crossroads decisions that manifest in a string of anxiety dreams.  Should he give it another go with Misha which might take considerable effort or continue to have meaningless sex with women he barely knows which, on the bright side, requires extremely little effort? Also, Coogan worries that as he approaches middle-age (he’s been forty-one for three years in a row now), his acting career may be festering in a holding pattern. Should he hold out for a breakthrough role in a feature film that may never come, or accept an American television offer that will require living away from his children for up to seven years?

In contrast, Brydon seems perfectly content to be who and where he is.

Otherwise, The Trip never pretends to be a straightforward plot-driven comedy. Leave that to the Americans. This is gentle, ambling, character-driven comedy spiced with witty banter and amusing impressions (although, being a stupid American, some were obscure to me), gorgeous scenery, and food porn shots of chefs preparing artful dishes in restaurant kitchens. (Oh, maybe that’s why the blurb writer thought this was a mockumentary!)

The typical American comedy would have punched the bromance angle harder and squeezed out a more sentimental ending. In a more subtle, understated and English way, The Trip manages to convey that even when they grate on each other’s nerves, Coogan and Brydon share a mutual affection that flows as steady and deep as a silent underground stream even when they take their long-time friendship for granted.