Tim (Paul Rudd) is bucking for a promotion at his asset management
firm. Recognized for his ability to schmooze a wealthy new client into
the corporate portfolio, he has a shot at moving up to the coveted 7th
Floor if he is willing to play a strange game: Search for a schmuck and
invite him to his boss’s (Bruce Greenwood) monthly "dinner for idiots."
Whoever shows up with the biggest bozo wins the prize. For Tim, that
means the big promotion.
Unlike the other executives where he works, Tim’s live-in girlfriend
Julie (Stephanie Szostak) immediately recognizes the cruel intent of
the activity. However her sharp criticism doesn’t deter the determined
manager, especially after he meets Barry (Steve Carell), an IRS
employee who lands on the hood of Tim’s Porsche while he is busy
texting.
After recovering from the forced acquainting, the nerdy looking
victim reveals his life’s passion of collecting and arranging dead mice
in detailed dioramas. When he whips out a scene of The Last Supper,
with Jesus and the apostles all being represented by taxidermically
prepared rodents, Tim feels he has found the perfect dinner guest.
Extending the invitation, Barry readily accepts—and even shows up a day
early.
Barry arrives in the midst of a spat between the couple, and
immediately integrates himself into Tim’s life. He creates complete
chaos by inadvertently allowing a woman (Lucy Punch) into Tim’s home
who has been stalking the corporate climber for three years. By the end
of the night, Tim’s apartment is nearly destroyed, his Porsche is
beaten and he’s facing a tax audit.
There are moments of genius in this script that are made truly funny
by Steve Carell’s very capable performance. But sadly, the movie stoops
to the lowest common denominator shared by far too many contemporary
comedies to create laughs. Sexual jokes, innuendo and outright explicit
discussions permeate many scenes. Partial female and male nudity, with
explicit body parts barely covered, is briefly shown. Offensive
language (such as profanities, a single sexual expletive and many terms
of deity) is heard throughout. And the constant slapstick violence
includes the dismemberment of a finger during a fight.
Content aside, the theme itself may present the greatest issue for parents. Reported to be far less cruel than the popular French film, The Dinner Game, upon which Schmucks
is based, this production still begs the question: How do we perceive
those around us who appear "different?" Thankfully, the final few
minutes do attempt to reorient the audience perspective to view the
rich executives as the nasty members of the club while the "idiots"
claim their right to social acceptance. Yet it’s a weak excuse to
justify laughing at marginalized members of society for the last two
hours—or to alleviate the lingering guilt we may feel after chuckling
at their expense.
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