The clue is in the title. His name is Bob (Michael Leydon Campbell) and he’s in a bit of a funk. Bob’s a drunken, misanthropic mattress salesman with appalling people skills, an infinitely more buttoned down older brother Ron (Eddie Jemison), and a mother (Grace Zabriskie) who’s also his boss and fast running out of patience. Cue Rachel Leigh Cook’s klutzy cupcake Ms. Thorne, who Bob instantly warms to in his own sweaty way and who must now supervise his latest period of job probation. It’s a workplace comedy with all the elements present and correct for a riotous giggle fest with just one teeny tiny - hardly worth mentioning really - little flaw. It’s apocalyptically unfunny.
Now that hit television shows like The Office have dragged the comedy of embarrassment out of the cult corner in which it languished, we’re seeing something of a shift towards more and more writers trying to feel the boundaries and push the envelope. Gradually it seems we’re moving towards a place comedy doesn’t really have any business poking around: drifting from such cantankerous crazies as Larry David towards the likes of Observe and Report’s Ronnie Barnhardt and here the titular Bob Funk – sick people who actually need help.
Sometime ago, exactly when is never made clear, Bob’s eight-year marriage fell apart (through adultery on her part) and he took refuge at the bottom of a bottle where our story finds him and duly pours him out. Venting his frustrations at customers, playing on his mother’s last nerve and bedding whoever happens to be at the other end of the bar that night Bob is self-medicating himself into oblivion. Given the choice between therapy and being fired Bob imparts his story through regular fevered rants of borderline misogyny directed at his therapist's ceiling. Bob’s not a comedy grouch, he’s an alcoholic, and that makes him somewhat harder to chuckle at.
Adapting the film from his own stage play, writer/director Craig Carlisle presents Bob’s story in chapters from a prologue onwards with witty little titles (“The Tragic Flow”, “Mounting Failures”) in what’s presumably an attempt to frame it into some Nietzsche-esque comic mutation on the twelve steps of recovery. While we can observe Bob’s fall and rise, Carlisle’s journeyman technique and lack of stylistic smarts prevent us from ever really becoming involved with it. Bob Funk the movie lacks the immediacy of the stage, and Carlisle goes to even more deliberate lengths to de-personalize his world (Ms. Thorne’s first name is never revealed, and Mrs. Funk is just “Mom”), which, ironically, is precisely the opposite of what’s required. Yes we get that he can’t connect with anyone, but it’s absolutely crucial that we connect with him.
At the heart of Bob Funk is a genuinely affecting three-way dynamic between Bob, his despairing mother and his mediating elder brother struggling to emerge. At their wits end with his drinking and shambolic behavior, they continue to support him in their own way through thick and thin; centering on this bond might have taken the story somewhere. Jemison has a very natural charm as an actor and the few successful scenes Bob Funk has, such as a brown bagged lunch break in the park, typically involve him and Bob together. But in its place we’re offered a tedious romantic subplot marbled with the endless deadpan banter of another lazy Office Space retread, complete with cubicles, a Stephen Root cameo, and 69J forms in for TPS reports.
A script so painfully self-aware ensures the jokes topple flat like a row of dominoes. Rachel Leigh Cook seems especially pleased with herself that she’s able to indulge in a little chic indie slumming as an adorable blonde ditz (she gets pens caught in her hair!). In the showroom Alex Desert and Nadia Dajani occasionally pop up as a pontificating sales tag-team to offer a Greek Chorus appraisal on things. That’s something that might work well on stage but feels distinctly artificial here and again speaks to Carlisle’s inexperience in writing for the screen.
What is seemingly purported by Bob Funk is that there is an inherent quality to tragedy and miserableness and that’s somehow romantic, which is a noble sentiment worthy of exploration. But it simply gets lost in the noise of increasingly more mean-spirited series of rants directed at anyone who’ll listen that quickly blur together to blunting effect. When you remove all the extraneous elements that crowd the narrative there is a simple story about a sick guy who is trying to get better. Were we ever at any point invited to cheer for his strides instead of merely mocking his stumbles the result might have been quite different.
DVD Bonus Features
Nothing is offered beyond trailers for the distributor's upcoming releases.
"Bob Funk" is on sale June 23, 2009 and is rated R. Comedy. Written and directed by Craig Carlisle. Starring Eddie Jemison, Grace Zabriskie, Michael Leydon Campbell, Rachael Leigh Cook, Stephen Root.
