Oh, Paul Rudd. Dreamboat, hilarious, smartypants Paul Rudd.
Yeah, yeah…I KNOW. All the Snooty McI’mBetterThanYou folks are saying, “FAH FAH FAHFAHFAH…the FRENCH version is SO much better and vous êtes un idiot de vouloir voir ce morceau de merde, espèce d’idiot!” Pssssh. WhatEVER.
“The setup is simple: Find a schmuck, bring him to dinner. The guy with the biggest idiot wins. (Also, no mimes. Too obvious.) The film’s goal, established over the course of one disastrous evening, is to demonstrate that the idiot isn’t necessarily the guy you expected going in. Except Carell’s Barry really is an idiot — a bumbling yet blissfully unaware imbecile in the grand tradition of such Steve Martin characters as Navin R. Johnson (“The Jerk”), Ruprecht (“Dirty Rotten Scoundrels”) and Clouseau (“The Pink Panther”) — which makes the silliness that ensues all the more entertaining.
The poor sod is a buck-toothed, badly toupeed taxman who wears his windbreaker even when indoors, smells like a mix of aftershave and formaldehyde (or so we’re told) and spends his free time making detailed dioramas with dead mice. (These elaborate creations very nearly steal the show, designed by Joel Venti and executed by the Chiodo brothers, the cult effects trio who crafted the puppets for “Team America: World Police.”)”
I’m just sayin’, Paul (my REAL Imaginary Boyfriend) Rudd, Steve Carell, Zach Galifianakis, and one of our two favorite Kiwis, Jemaine Clement (Flight of the Conchords), I think we’re in for some belly-laughs. A cringe-fest at moments? Sure. Who doesn’t love The Cringe Factor? God knows I do.