The Man

Eugene Levy as “Andy Fiddler” and Samuel L. Jackson as “Derrick Vann” in New Line Cinema’s upcoming odd couple action comedy, THE MAN. ©2005 Ava Gerlitz/New Line Productions.

“You know your speech, I know your speech… the kids know your speech,” says Susan (Gigi Rice), the wife of Andy Fiddler (Eugene Levy). He’s a dental supplies salesman. Fiddler is perfect for the job. He’s obsessive about dental hygiene… and about giving a good speech. I’m glad someone’s enthused, because I have this funny feeling we’re going for a trip down memory lane with yet another good-cop-gets-stuck-with-unwieldy-sidekick attempt at comedy.

Special Agent Derrick Vann (Samuel Jackson) is an ATF agent under investigation by a gruff Internal Affairs agent, Peters (Miguel Ferrer), after his partner—supposedly corrupt—turns up dead after an attempted bust goes bad. What’s never explained, in this or any similar cop comedy, is why the IA guys in these movies always predeterminately decide that every crooked cop’s partner must be in on it. But I’ll table that objection for the time being, since this is a comedy and not a thriller. However, I’m about to argue it’s neither.

Lt. Carbone (Susie Essman) is our mandatory boss with a chip—always haranguing Vann for this and that. She finds out he’s under investigation, and wants his gun and badge. But he’s got 24 hours to figure out who the real crooks are and recover the merchandise lost in the bad deal. So, naturally, this is the part of the movie where he has to go pick on a street thug for information. He tracks down “Booty” (Anthony Mackie) in an alleyway and nearly drives over him… but just bumps him in the ass. Get it? Booty… ass? You can stop laughing now… this is only the first of many clever jokes—the second, if you count the name of “Fiddler”. Given the roles for which Levy displays immense talent (being annoying, uncoordinated, awkward and embarrassing), you get no bonus points for guessing why he’s called Fiddler.

Vann tries to get Booty to set up a deal with an arms dealer, Joey Trent (Luke Goss). Fiddler has just made it into Detroit for the dental supplies convention and stops at a local diner—where Vann is supposed to meet the gun runners. The signal to the dealers is a USA Today newspaper. Wouldn’t you know, Fiddler just happens to be reading the last one. Imagine his horror, and physical antics, when he realizes the bag being pushed his way contains a sample of the merchandise the arms dealers are holding.

The situation is so predictable, as are all the wasted moments of Levy’s otherwise comic appeal, that even the IA guys spying on Fiddler have to throw in some unfunny dialogue just to distract us from the tragedy of seeing a great comedic actor’s talents go to waste in a movie like this.

“This guy’s gotta be smarter than he looks,” says the first agent.

The second agent’s response? Complete this sentence: “Well, he can’t be…”

There’s plenty of butt jokes, and of course the moment when Eugene Levy gets to drop his pants on screen because he was busy nursing a bullet wound. I can explain. Well, no, really… I can’t, except to say that, as bizarre as it sounds, you do see this moment coming the second the words “butt” and “tabasco” first enter the conversation.

At any rate, Fiddler handles the drop with Joey rather well for someone who sells dental floss.

Now, of course, cop suspect is also re-introduced to us as apparent deadbeat dad who always misses his kid’s recital. There’s a stepdad in the picture, naturally, to artificially, and feebly, inflate the tension of a relationship with his ex-wife Dara (Rachael Crawford)—a role that hasn’t at all been fleshed out. We have a cute moment that could have been explored further where the genuine fatherly side of Fiddler comes out, as he spends time with Vann’s daughter. This kid is too adorable, and too capable of genuine expression, to be in this failed experiment at rehashing, simultaneously, the rough-cop-meets-awkward-tagalong and awkward-white-guy-meets-cool-tough-black-guy formluae. That makes three actors, Levy, Jackson and the kid, who were cast in the wrong movie with a script that couldn’t sell their talents at a garage sale.

Meanwhile, the gun runners’ other buyer gets cold feet. Needless to say, Joey moves too quickly on him, and now he’s dependent upon “The Turk” (Fiddler). Vann secures another half-million to make the final drop which, obviously, goes bad at roughly the exact same time as the burger Fiddler had for dinner. Now, the two have set themselves up in a situation where both can be redeemed in one play, but first, Fiddler insists they go see Vann’s daughter’s recital. This might be a good time to establish something about the character of Fiddler and Vann—but it doesn’t. Instead, it’s largely just a plot device to a) kill time because the writers couldn’t think of anything else to fill ten minutes, b) to falsely mitigate the tension—suggesting something heavy is going to have to go down.

During this several minutes of mental intermission, I began thinking about the annoying, yet likeable, Del Griffith (John Candy) in “Planes, Trains and Automobiles.” Candy was, like Levy, an SCTV alumnus. While he doesn’t typically play the father figure, he and Levy perfected a certain, gormless charm. What’s funny about Griffith and, in principle, Fiddler, is the fact that—compared to Neal Page and Derrick Vann—they’re the normal ones.

What I kept wondering throughout this movie, though, is why it spends so much time developing less-than-surreptitious ways to inject fart jokes into the story, and next to no time at all building up our appreciation of the gawky, yet stalwart, Fiddler. At least in “American Pie,” Levy got to play a father figure who, say what you will about his embarrassing eccentricity, serves as an optimistic and self-confident counterpoint to the pessimism and misfortune of his son Jim (Jason Biggs). Irony befits humor.

In “The Man,” all the awkward white guy jokes, as played unsurprisingly against the equally unimaginative stereotype of bad-ass black guy, cannot muster an ounce of irony to summon laughter that’s more than a fleeting amusement. Sure, it’s funny when you’re standing in a quiet bathroom and out of nowhere someone lets out a solitary fart. Would it be as funny if it were a chorus of flatulence?

Fiddler doesn’t know when to keep quiet, neither does this film. However, Fiddler knows his faults. The director doesn’t know his.

The Man • Running Time: 1 hour 23 minutes • Dolby® Digital surround sound in select theatres • MPAA Rating: PG-13 for language, rude dialogue and some violence. • Released by New Line Cinema