What do Fleetwood Mac, surgical mutilation and a delightfully chubby Haley Joel Osment have in common? Along with a recurring erotic nightmare of mine, Kevin Smith’s new film Tusk.
Based on an episode of Smith’s long-running “SModcast,” Tusk tells the story of podcaster Wallace Bryton (Justin Long) who embarks into Manitoba on a quest for new material. When his original lead fizzles, Wallace (Smith’s fictional stand-in) encounters Howard Howe (Michael Parks), a wheelchair bound recluse who offers tales of adventure in exchange for basic ”household chores.” Unbeknownst to Wallace, those chores include spending the rest of his life as Howard’s surgically constructed walrus companion.
When Wallace goes off the radar, his girlfriend (Genesis Rodriguez) and podcasting partner/best bud (suddenly plump Haley Joel Osment) set out to discover his whereabouts.The premise is impressively bizarre and loaded with potential. Unfortunately, the film that accompanies it is a messy, self-satisfied chore. It’s not a complete loss, though – the speed with which Smith destroys the promise of Tusk’s rich setup is his most impressive directorial achievement since Dogma.
Little Chunks of People
One bright spot among Tusk’s bloody tedium is Michael Parks scene-stealing performance. Though the script somehow accomplishes both vagueness and an over-abundance of exposition in regard to Howard’s motivations, there’s something enjoyably off-kilter about his character. There’s a certain charm to his calm, calculated approach to outrageous depravity, but there’s also an undercurrent of legitimate insanity.
One scene finds Howard and Wallace at opposite ends of a long dining room table. When Wallace begins to desperately scream for help, Howard answers with his own mocking whimpers and animalistic howls. Given the intensity of these scenes, it’s a shame that the rest of the film’s characters are so poorly fleshed out. Rodriguez’s character Ally provides a moral foil for Long’s flippant protagonist, but as the movie progress, she does little more than worry.
Haley Joel Osment’s Teddy is even worse. After his early involvement in the podcast scenes, Osment becomes an ungainly but anonymous presence in the film, his character devolved to a pair of meaty hands caressing Rodriguez’s face. (Yes, that shot is actually in the movie and yes, it’s as uncomfortable as it sounds.)
Johnny Depp, bravely going against type here to play ‘quirky,’ appears late on as an eccentric detective, but even his goofy beret and Québécois accent aren’t enough to add much interest to the Where’s-Wallace storyline.
The Self-Loathing Narcissist
If the supporting cast are watered down, Smith’s main character is downright poisonous. Justin Long does hysterical, B-movie terror as well as anybody else in the business. There’s something self-aware and magical about quavering, pale-faced Justin Long ravings, and luckily Tusk provides him with ample opportunities to scream..and groan…and make walrus sounds. The problems arise when Wallace has to act like a human being. Not every protagonist needs to be lovable, but the the smug, mustachioed Wallace becomes nauseating long before the mutilation begins.
Given the autobiographical aspects of Wallace’s character, it feels like Smith is turning the lens on himself, examining the cost of his own fame. The self-deprecation might be refreshing if not for the obvious self-satisfaction with which the rest of the film is imbued. From the uncredited Depp cameo to Smith’s token raunchy dialogue, Tusk comes off as unbearably self-indulgent – the work of a filmmaker who has started believing his own hype. Tusk is so determined to be winky and ‘meta’ that the basic components of the narrative are overlooked. It’s an under-cooked mess of a film going out of its way to convince you how clever it is. If you sit through the ending credits, you’ll even be treated to a clip of the podcast upon which the film is based. “Look,” Smith seems to grin at his audience, “isn’t this outrageous?!”
Bits and Pieces
A filmmaker’s ability to manipulate the tone of a film is vital to its success; this trait is especially important to horror-comedies. Tucker and Dale Vs. Evil and Drag Me to Hell are two recent examples of how tonal control can make for movies that are horrifying and hilarious in turn. On the evidence of Tusk (and of 2011’s Red State, while we’re at it) Smith just hasn’t found the formula. Tusk debases itself for the sake of humor and horror, and largely misses both marks.The inconsistencies of tone are only exacerbated by severe pacing issues.
The gap between Wallace’s suspicion of Howard and full on limb-chopping, suit-made-of-human-skin madness is so small that there’s no room for dread; no progression of unease. In place of suspense and mystery, we’re force-fed exposition and over-the-top effects – it’s like if Misery had been made by a prequel-era George Lucas.
Given the genesis of Tusk’s concept, perhaps the final results shouldn’t be surprising. The film stems from the type of conversation you might have on a late night burrito run, riffing on an absurd concept for the delight of your guffawing companions. It’s alarming that Kevin Smith has convinced himself that even his most spontaneous spitballing deserves to be filmed; it’s even more alarming that he’s got the resources to make it happen.
Tusk is cautionary tale about what success does to a filmmaker; a function of privilege rather than talent. Like a horrific, unnatural being held captive beneath a remote mansion, there’s simply no reason for it to exist, and if not for the obsession of a single madman, it wouldn’t. If only.
What did you think of Tusk? Where does it rank among Smith’s other films, in your opinion?
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