They could have subtitled this one "As Nasty As They Wanna Be," this is a film about evil, unrepentant and unchecked. Director Neil Labute's first feature, shot for less than $50,000, effectively depicts misogyny and cruelty without making the characters seem overdrawn-no small feat in an era where Hollywood villains tend to be vaguely absurd caricature. But the result, while effective, is far from pleasant to watch; the ending is as troubling as that of any movie in recent memory.
The plot is simple enough, and Labute's minimalist style keeps the proceedings mercifully free from distracting subplots. Chad and Howard (Aaron Eckhart and Matt Malloy) have been assigned to a Midwestern branch of their company for six weeks, and Chad, establishing that each has lately been dumped by a girlfriend, proposes the following on the flight there: that the two romance the same woman during their stay and then abruptly dump her at the end of the six weeks. Why? "To restore some dignity to our race." Because, as Chad envisions it, "she'll be reaching for the sleeping pills within a week, and we'll laugh about this until we are very old men." In short for the thrill of it. ("Let's hurt somebody.") Moreover, Chad stipulates that it should be a lonely woman, "maybe disfigured," the better to prey on her insecurities and make her fall all the harder. Howard goes along, and Chad chooses a deaf typist named Christine (Stacy Edwards) as the victim.
The three central characters are well realized. Eckhart's Chad combines rage at the world for a variety of imagined slights with an oily charm-which works so well because it doesn't seem oily. Myself, I pigeonholed Chad as a fratboy gone bad, devoid of respect for anyone or anything; never does the character convey that he particularly cares about being liked, but the force of his self-assurance silences any potential criticism. Howard is as weak as Chad is strong-whether cowed by his mother over the phone or bullied by Chad (and the force of conformity that Chad seems to represent) into his plans, Howard's capacity to stand up for anything is minimal, and Malloy's stammer and nervous body language paint the picture well. And though Christine has little to do besides be a victim, Edwards gives her dignity; her insecurities, and increased confidence over the course of film, come alive despite the limited part. LaBute's style is best described as restrained: in many scenes, the camera simply stays where it is and lets the dialogue run, all in one shot. There are a few odd camera angles and sudden closeups, but the unremarkability of most of the camerawork keeps the director out of the way-and, perhaps more importantly, lends a documentary-style feel to the story, making the events that much more real. Adding to that is the frigid cinematography: the backdrops are airport lounges, executive conference rooms, hotel rooms, places so familiar that no one could consider them distinctive or foreign. The milieu feels depersonalized; the blank walls and bland surroundings draw attention to the coldness of the main characters' scheming.
Labute has called his film a "cinematic inkblot test," and it succeeds in that respect on several levels: the viewer is forced to ponder to what degree he or she shares traits with the two predators, or recognizes friends and associates in them. More than that, though, Labute strives to give the proceedings a comic element, and viewers who laugh may wonder afterwards how they could have found humor in such a grim tale. (I certainly heard plenty of laughter in the theater, much of it at moments that made me cringe more than anything else--and I refuse to believe that I was in a theater of sociopaths.) As in any good Rorschach test, the viewer is left unsure at the end about what went on-how close to real life do the interactions here come? Was Howard as guilty as Chad, or merely too weak to resist?
It could be argued that "Men" is really about the corporate lifestyle and the people it produces, and there is certainly that element. Chad uses his power to humiliate a black office worker; one discussion of Chad's various dislikes in the company instantly turns on the one who leaves the room ("I hate that prick"); the antagonism among the main characters springs in part from Howard's position of power in the firm. But the attitudes at issue are hardly specific to the corporate scene; they are common about all sorts, and the competitve sphere of the workplace brings them out especially vividly. And Chad, for all his charm, is not truly the type to climb the corporate ladder; such an ascent requires more fundamental people skills than superficial bonhomie, and no one who spends time around Chad could trust him or think his good will genuine. At bottom, the office environment in "Men" is relevant because it creates a situation where personalities clash, where different types are thrown together-and the story tracks what happens when a strong persaonality takes hold of a weak one. And it doesm't feel accurate to say that the men here are evil incarnate, far from real life; the intent, I think, is more to show what people are capacble of if suitably manipulated, and what locker-room misogyny could become if allowed free rein.
There is much to appreciate about "Men": the dialogue is fresh and snappy, and Chad's lines have enough bite to show that his is a character to be feared as well as despised. His humor, in particular, leads me to suspect that LaBute has been hanging around locker rooms taking notes-and the way he pressures a reluctant Howard into going through with the plan is classic high school bully. There are moments when the director appears to be deliberately savaging Hollywood conventions, particularly those involving romance, for instance when Chad goes saccharine: "I want our relationship to blossom." Likewise, the sheer force of the ending catches the viewer off guard-and makes the final few shots very nearly stomach-turning. If there is such a thing as a horror film without violence, this is it.
"Men," in sum, holds the grim fascination of a car accident: we know the sight will be unpleasant, but we look anyway. Though far from enjoyable, LaBute's first film is immensely thought-provoking.
Duncan Stevens d-stevens@nwu.edu 312-654-0280
The room is as you left it; your last touch-- A thoughtless pressure, knowing not itself As saintly--hallows now each simple thing, Hallows and glorifies, and glows between The dust's gray fingers, like a shielded light.
--from "Interim," by Edna St. Vincent Millay
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