Final Review: The Works of Jody Hill

"The Foot Fist Way" (Directed by Jody Hill, 2006)

"Eastbound & Down" (Season 1, Episode 1: "Chapter 1," HBO)

"Observe & Report" (Directed by Jody Hill, 2009)

Whether the protagonist is a has-been with a serious cocaine addiction or a Tae Kwon Do instructor with an ego the size of Texas, Jody Hill certainly displays a penchant for conflicted characters. Despite boasting a small filmography, the North Carolina-born writer/director has provided his audience with some of the most detestable characters to ever grace the screen. In fact, the protagonists of Hill’s HBO pilot episode “Eastbound & Down” and his two features, “The Foot Fist Way” and “Observe and Report” could very well be the offspring of the same demented family. Still, no matter how nasty the characters prove to be – and punching a little kid square in the face is pretty nasty – Hill somehow gets us to root for these people. With three-dimensional characters, hilarious writing and poignant direction, Hill throws out the rule book that all protagonists are supposed to be heroic and gets the viewer to side with some pretty terrible human beings.

           

Set in a rural North Carolina town, "The Foot Fist Way" is everything a martial arts film shouldn't be. The story revolves around a redneck Tae Kwon Do instructor, Fred Simmons (Danny McBride), whose only pursuit in life is to kick ass and drink beer. Although his dojo is located in a tiny strip mall and his expos are held in the parking lot outside, Fred thinks of himself as cream of the crop. He believes the single trophy he won over ten years ago is proof enough that he is the champion of all North America. So, when a big karate movie star, Chuck "The Truck" Williams, arrives in town, Fred seizes the opportunity to show off his fighting chops. But, after Fred walks in on his wife cheating on him with his personal hero, Fred's life begins to spiral out of control. The audience watches as a man so out of touch with reality slowly comes to terms with his true identity and can’t help but self-destruct in the process. 

Charisma is a one of the most important qualities that defines every movie star. Box office draw aside, a charismatic actor is the easiest way to get the audience to side with the protagonist. The audience can't help but feel sorry for these actors when the love of their life leaves forever or root for them when the villain builds obstacles nearly impossible to overcome. Yet, charm is the last thing most people would associate with a person who asks for a divorce by urinating on his wedding ring. In “The Foot Fist Way,” the challenge for Danny McBride was to bring likeability to such an unlikeable character. McBride accomplishes this difficult task by treating his role with complete sincerity. At first, this approach may seem counter-intuitive. Why would anybody feel sympathy or cheer for such a narcissist? In this particular film, the answer is Fred’s fragileness. The movie drops hints that Tae Kwon Do is all Fred has in his life. Of course, this means he is quick to defend it – a habit that usually ends with Fred putting his foot in his mouth. For example, when a potential client mentions that meditation is just as effective as Tae Kwon Do, Fred snaps back, "Meditation is great and all but have you ever heard it saving somebody from a gang rape type situation? Meditate on that." Rather than being mean for the sake of being mean, McBride shows us that this is a character trying to cope with his insecurities. Basically, he creates empathy by lacing his machismo with several insecurities. As a result, the viewer is willing to put up with such deplorable behavior because we are hoping the end will bring us a change in his character.

Going hand-in-hand with charisma is humor – another great method that allows the audience to lower their defenses. Throughout the entirety of “The Foot Fist Way,” the script provides great one-liners and absurd situations. On the surface, playing the protagonist’s hostility for laughs seems to be the design of the movie. However, that would be playing it safe. Anybody could play this role with a cheeky, look-at-me attitude. Part of McBride's sincerity is what makes his actions so funny. He treats every insignificant moment with the utmost reverence. Instead of casually asking a student to join his demo team, Fred acts like a king bestowing a rare honor upon one of his subjects. Additionally, this approach relieves the viewer of feeling any responsibility. If jokes came at the expense of others, the viewer would feel obligated to make judgments of Fred. Wisely, the filmmakers make the distinction that we are supposed to be appalled by Simmons. For example, Fred sees nothing wrong with punishing one of his pupils by beating him up. Here, the joke is not the violence but that the character sees violence as a reasonable solution. In other words, the comedy helps provide insight to the character's logic. By offering this understanding to the viewer, we find it easier to sympathize with Fred.

Maintaining this theme of drama and comedy, Hill’s poignant direction helps balance the contrasting tones. Ranging from Quentin Tarantino’s cartoon violence to Wes Anderson’s mumble-core, every great director showcases a certain style. For Hill, his style pulls the rug from beneath the audience’s feet by his tendency to abruptly shift tones. For many films, this direction would be inappropriate but, in the case of “The Foot Fist Way,” shifting tones makes sense. Underneath the comedy is a dramatic character study. Yes, the movie has a comedic sensibility but the viewers are not supposed to take the story lightly. By coloring Fred Simmons as a troubled figure, the audience cannot get away with simply laughing his depravity off. While we laugh and gasp at the character’s actions, the audience feels sorry for him.

Hill’s direction also encourages the viewer’s participation and creates an oddly mesmerizing effect. Instead of occupying our time with a few cheap laughs, Hill asks us to examine the origin of Fred’s problems. The audience finds themselves laughing one moment but immediately confronted with Fred’s sad state the next. For example, mid-way through the film, Fred has a nervous breakdown in the dojo’s bathroom. When he resumes class, he proceeds to lose his mind. Without the previous context, witnessing a teacher freak-out in front of a bunch of people may have been considered funny. Thanks to Hill’s direction, the audience recognizes the situation as utter self-destruction. As a result, we gain sympathy for the character. With many scenes similar to this one, the audience starts cheering for a person who would have originally made them gasp. 

Perhaps the most conflicted character to ever appear on screen is Travis Bickle (Robert DeNiro) in “Taxi Driver.” So of course, Jody Hill conceived his second feature, “Observe and Report” as an homage to the darkness of Martin Scorsese’s classic but applied it with his twisted sense of humor. Like “Taxi Driver,” Ronnie Barnhardt (Seth Rogen) wants nothing more than to rid his world of crime and corruption. However, the only world he knows is the mall where he works as a security guard. Moreover, Ronnie cannot get over his false self-image brought on by bipolar disorder to serve any real justice. But, when a flasher plagues the mall, Ronnie assumes the responsibility to solve a real crime. However, problems begin to surface when a detective is assigned to the case and trumps Ronnie’s authority.

Simply utilizing Rogen’s happy-go-lucky stoner persona could have brought a suitable amount of charisma to the protagonist. However, as we’ve seen with his first feature film, Hill is a filmmaker who loves to take risks. In this movie, he deconstructs Rogen’s established personality and paints the portrait of a man with very flawed mental problems. During an interview on the evening news, Ronnie sends a warning to the perpetrator and exclaims that if he comes to the mall again he will murder him. Judging from the way the character carries himself, Ronnie takes his job way too seriously. If this were the only side to Ronnie the audience sees, then he would be a very two-dimensional character. To prevent this problem, Rogen brings a childlike naivety that lies underneath all the delusions and mood swings. At times, his obliviousness treads on disturbing. During his mental evaluation at a therapy session, Ronnie talks about his dream of "getting God's work done" with "the biggest shotgun you've ever seen." Although Ronnie can appear downright frightening in some scenes, the audience recognizes that he is well intentioned. There is no malice behind he actions. Instead, he has very odd understanding of what it means to protect someone. Given this insight, the audience finds it much easier to side with the protagonist, even if his methods are questionable.

While the movie isn't stuffed with as many quotable lines as "The Foot Fist Way," the writing is the greatest aspect of the film. The script provides plenty of laughs but the film's structure is ultimately the biggest factor that allows the audience to root for Ronnie. Essentially, the plot is a classic underdog story. The odds seem incredibly stacked against Ronnie and the entire secondary cast tries to restrain him. Even Detective Harrison (Ray Liotta), who originally establishes himself as the voice of reason, slowly succumbs to Ronnie's overwhelming personality and turns into a raving lunatic by the end of the movie. For example, he tricks Ronnie into giving a fake job interview at the police station while all the other officers snicker in the back closet. Ronnie may be a dangerous basket case, but with scenes similar to this one, the script portrays Ronnie as a victim and the world as his bully. Even Ronnie's own mother can't find the words for a proper pep talk to boost his spirits. She attempts to cheer him up by claiming, "You may not be the smartest person in the world but... you're handsome... from certain angles." Of course, nobody with a heart wants the bully to prevail. Through the course of the film, the audience hopes Ronnie finds the ability to overcome his oppressors. By depicting Ronnie as a vulnerable person, the script justifies our reasons to root for the protagonist.

Despite the character of Ronnie Barnhadt being so clearly a Jody Hill creation, the director's signature style is subtler here.  During the run of the film, the tones remain relatively stagnant – an odd choice when juxtaposed with Ronnie's bipolar disorder. Instead of alternating between comedy and drama, the film relishes in its dark comedy genre. For example, during one of the night shifts, a fellow security guard named Dennis (Michael Pena) tries to convince Ronnie to indulge his wild side. We then immediately see shots of Dennis ingesting copious amounts of drugs like heroin. Yet, the consequences of this bender are never explored and the sequence is merely played for laughs. Humor without consequences may seem shallow but, when viewed with a more critical eye, the decision to maintain a consistent atmosphere appears deliberate. Looking back on the picture, the bleakness perfectly sets up the world that Ronnie occupies. The characters are burnouts and the gray setting is mundane. The only place of vibrant color is the mall, the place Ronnie holds sacred. Keeping this in mind, most of the empathy in the movie comes from making all the other characters even more horrible than Ronnie and depicting the setting as brutally oppressive. The writing further reinforces Ronnie as a victim to circumstance and easies our hesitation to root for him.

Again employing Danny McBride for the lead role, Jody Hill brings his twisted sensibility to cable television with the HBO series “Eastbound & Down.” The story follows Kenny Powers (Danny McBride) and his retreat back to his hometown of Shelby, North Carolina where he works as a substitute gym teacher at a local middle school. After the spoils of fame and fortune proved to be too much for the MLB pitcher and burning all his bridges along the way, the league shuns Powers. The series follows his desperate attempts to mount his triumphant comeback. The only problem is that his massive ego continuously gets in his way.

A racist, a homophobe and a xenophobe, Kenny Powers is by far the most despicable character in Hill's arsenal. During school classes, Powers rifles through student lockers stealing lunches, money and anything else he can find. However, Powers is weirdly the most likable of the three protagonists. Now a veteran actor by the time of its debut, McBride fully harnesses his charisma. McBride's personality could have easily been the sole focus of his character but that would be one-note. Instead, the creators humble his larger than life attitude with multiple flaws. Behind Kenny’s alpha-male persona is a shattered ego. Like Fred Simmons, Powers is a man battling many insecurities. The difference that sets the two protagonists apart is the fact that Powers is not so much delusional like Fred but severely depressed. While “The Foot Fist Way” showed us the surface of Fred’s delusions, the pilot episode has no problem tossing his viewers in the dark abyss of Kenny’s despair. The lingering shot of Kenny crying himself to sleep is evidence enough of his mental state.  In order to get the audience on his side, McBride uses the character’s sadness to create empathy.

In addition to giving the audience a fully realized character, the HBO series showcases some of the best writing in Hill's filmography. The series acts as a culmination of "The Foot Fist Way" and "Observe & Repot" by providing plenty of quotable one-liners and bleak surroundings. A major reason why Kenny is so likable is attributed to his unique rhetoric. Hugging an old high school flame, Kenny asks, "I smell your essence. Do you smell mine?" To his character, every trivial moment is crucial to the outcome of his inevitable comeback. Additionally, Kenny is blind to the fact that nobody cares if he ends up never throwing another pitch. For example, at the end of the pilot episode, Kenny hijacks the school's PA system to address a bunch of middle schoolers with his curse filled announcement concerning his pursuit to rejoin the majors. While Ronnie was the underdog with everybody holding him back, Kenny is the underdog in his own mind. Much of the humor comes through the idea that only Kenny worries about what is going on in his life. If Kenny weren't so egotistical he would see nobody else has reason to care. Nevertheless, the audience feels sympathy for what appears to be such a hopeless cause.

If it weren't for the abundance of jokes, one could possibly mistake the show for a drama. This confusion would be understandable due to Hill's direction. In order to create empathy for Kenny, the director treats the protagonist like the tragic figures found in Greek literature who fall victims to their own hubris. So, for the audience, returning to the majors is not a victory but redemption. The irony is that the audience knows more about Kenny’s struggle than he does. His conflict is not so much a fight to get back into the majors but to change the attitude that caused his fall. Like "The Foot Fist Way," the viewer roots for the protagonist because we want to see a character change.

After examining the two features and pilot episode by Jody Hill, one can see a common theme running through all of them. With three-dimensional characters, funny writing and poignant direction, the director finds vulnerability in his characters and manipulates it to make unlikable people likable.  Whether it is delusion, insecurity or depression, the audience is provided an understanding of the protagonists’ warped viewpoints. By doing this, the audience frees the characters of any judgments and is given justification to root for them. Perhaps, the fact that a viewer can side with anybody so long as the proper amount of insight is provided tells us something about human psychology – but that would be a whole different topic. What we do know is that, for all the horribleness the viewer puts up with, the filmmaker rewards us by making them than just mean. No wonder horrible people are more fun to watch than nice people. 

Television Review: It's Always Sunny in Philadelphia

“It’s Always Sunny in Philadelphia” (Season Three, Episode 9: “Sweet Dee’s Dating a Retarded Person,” FX)

Gold digging the mentally challenged, huffing toxic glue and a song about “a man who breaks into your house and rapes you” – sounds more like the FCC’s worst nightmare than an episode found on basic cable. Aptly described as “Seinfeld on crack,” FX’s original series, “It’s Always Sunny in Philadelphia,” adopts the groundbreaking show’s no hugs philosophy and amps up the chaos. With the characters at their most manipulative, the third season’s episode titled, “Sweet Dee’s Dating a Retard Person,” serves as a clinic on how to walk the tightrope of politically incorrect humor.

Told through the demented eyes of five barkeeps and their weekly get-rich-quick schemes, the typical “Sunny” episode satirizes taboo subjects ranging from sweatshops to dumpster babies. However, the show works best when it uses these broad concepts as a backdrop and focuses on the perverse relationships of its characters – something this episode managed perfectly. As suggested in the title, Dee (Kaitlin Olson) and Dennis (Glenn Howerton) investigate whether her current up-and-coming rapper boyfriend is mentally handicapped. Meanwhile, Mac (Rob McElhenney), Frank (Danny DeVito) and Charlie (Charlie Day) form a rock band called Chemical Toilet (a euphemism for a port-o-potty). The show could have churned out an easy parody of the music scene but how many more times do we need to be told the industry is a corporate sham? Luckily, the creators realized this and opted to relish in the lunacy of our five lovable sociopaths.

The show’s signature banter has become the biggest appeal for its audience. Despite being so mingled in each other’s affairs, nobody in the gang can see beyond their own needs and warped viewpoints. For example, Frank joins the band so he can convince the kids to “bop” with him. Yet, Mac is much more cynical. He insists, “the kid’s aren’t bopping anymore. They’re banging each other and doing meth before they hit grade school.”

While the humor can be crass at times, the purpose of the show is not meant to simply shock the audience. Tackling delicate issues poses the threat of becoming offensive, so “Sunny” makes the point clear that you aren’t supposed to be laughing with the characters, you’re supposed to be laughing at them. The joke of this particular premise is not that Dee’s boyfriend is possibly mentally challenged (for the record, we learned by the end he isn’t) but that Dee is such a pathetic and desperate person that she is willing to stoop so low as to take advantage of somebody.

An important aspect of straddling the fine line between funny and distasteful is character development. The gang doesn’t form a rock band just because that was all the writer’s room could come up with. Every action and every motivation faithfully follows each character’s specific logic. Nowadays, too many sitcoms – ahem, “The Office” – abandon the world they’ve created in favor of a whacky premise. However rude or manipulative or downright evil the gang can be, the audience at least knows who they’re going to be hanging out with for the next half hour.

Art Exhibition Review: Thorne's Miniature Rooms

“Thorne’s Miniature Rooms,” The Art Institute of Chicago, 111 S. Michigan Avenue

A guest visiting the Art Institute of Chicago may be surprised to find a Georgian Period dining room, a serene Japanese meditation room and a 1930’s modern living room (at least what it meant to be modern 80 years ago) among the paintings, sculptures and other art exhibits. As if you stepped into the Twilight Zone, these three rooms along with 65 others can be found a mere few feet apart from each other stowed away in the basement of the prestigious art museum. With an amazing attention to detail and the help of several artists, Mrs. James Ward Thorne transports the viewer across continents and through various time periods with her miniature rooms gallery.

The exhibit credits Thorne as the unique vision behind the works of art; however, Claus Brandell and Eugene Kupjack are distinguished as the two artists who were commissioned to help craft each miniature. Constructed between 1934 and 1940, Thorne’s miniature rooms display offers viewers a God’s eye view that allows one to see how design, culture and architecture evolved from the Middle Ages to early 1940’s Americana. The fact that each interior matches exact one-inch by one-foot specifications offers unparalleled accuracy and realism. In addition, every miniature is constructed with the same materials of the depicted era. The borderline obsessive-compulsive attention to detail remains the strongest element of Thorne’s gallery. Patterns on the upholstery are hand-stitched onto the furniture and fireplaces are speckled with ash and roasting embers. If you aren’t too embarrassed to stick your face up against the glass, the three-dimensional space and naturalistic lighting make you feel like you’ve been transported out of the museum and into a different century.

Despite the apparent care it took to craft each room, Thorne’s display contains a playful quality to it. Whether this aspect is intended or not, guests can’t help but feel that they have wandered into at an over-the-top dollhouse hobby fair. This probably explains why the contemporary art gala was placed upstairs and scrutinized by adults while Thorne’s gallery was banished to the basement away from all the other artwork and ransacked by children climbing the railings and rolling around on the carpeted floor. Yet, the art gallery turned day care center/jungle gym is not entirely a bad thing. The displays appeal to a childlike sensibility as you catch yourself imagining the miniature rooms being occupied by miniature people. At the very least, Thorne’s exhibit provides a break from the stiffness of the rest of the museum. Worrying about bumping into and breaking an antique from the Byzantine Empire is nonexistent down here. Plus, you don’t have security staring straight through your soul and barking at you to not touch anything. Visitors are simply left to look at something that is just plain fun.