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Shared Darkness

A Communal Life in Film, Examined

Daily Archives: September 14, 2008

Brian Regan: The Epitome of Hyperbole

I first saw Brian Regan during some promo reels they used to run before the movie trailers at Los Angeles cinemas in the late 1990s. There was some sort of loose tie-in or affiliation with AMC Theaters, if I’m not mistaken, and the self-effacing bit with Regan showed him purchasing a ticket and concessions, then, when told to enjoy the show, saying, “Yeah, you too.” He then caught his gaffe, and proceeded to berate himself, up and down the dial, as “the guy who doesn’t know when to use the phrase ‘You too.'” It’s a credit to Regan’s offbeat energy and goofy charisma that, despite seeing this bit probably a couple dozen times, I never really tired of it, or winced when it started up.

Filmed during his most recent tour, Brian Regan: The Epitome of Hyperbole showcases the comedian — who could be played by Will Ferrell were there ever a need for a biopic — fully in his comfort zone, in front of a crowd. He starts out talking about taking up speed reading, and the resultant plunge in his reading comprehension. In fact, a good bit of Regan’s show is about education, or the dumbing down of America. (“If reading is supposed to make you smarter,” he opines during one joke, “why do they put the book’s title on the bottom of all the pages?”) In another long run, he assays long sentences (especially in reporting, and newspapers), and how he likes to deconstruct them. In scattershot fashion, Regan also touches on Russell Crowe, criminalizing loitering and the decertification of Pluto as a planet, as well as failed and/or bad ideas for theme park movie rides.

Prowling about like a cat, Regan has a stage presence at once goofy and stalking. He tends to extend titters into bigger laughs with lots of physical pantomiming, but because it’s consistent throughout his set it comes across a lot less as milking time and material and more something that’s built in, and interwoven into the fiber of his act. Regan’s humor is neither particularly dirty nor topical, so it’s definitely something that has some replay value, and can be enjoyed by a fairly broad age range. His observational stuff is pretty solid, but a decent portion of the connection here comes from his affable demeanor and indefatigable insistence at inserting himself into various situations, often as the butt of the joke.

Housed in a regular Amray plastic case with snap-shut hinges and a deep-set tray, Brian Regan: The Epitome of Hyperbole comes presented in 1.85:1 widescreen, with a choice of 5.1 and 2.0 Dolby digital soundtrack options that each more than adequately capture the relatively meager aural demands of this title. The feature presentation runs about 42 minutes, and there are also two bonus featurettes — a four-minute selection of encore material where Regan fields joke requests from fans in the audience, and a 14-minute backstage segment which is partially about Regan’s act but mostly about the logistics of putting the show together. B (Show) B- (Disc)

Lakeview Terrace

Arthouse filmmaker Neil LaBute takes his best commercial swing yet with Lakeview Terrace, a solidly constructed drama of suburban friction and unrest that only fully yields to genre convention in its final wild, gunplay-fueled 10 minutes. For the majority of its running time, Lakeview Terrace is more of a character study than somewhat similar neighbors-gone-wild thrillers like Pacific Heights and Unlawful Entry. While not enough of a straight thriller to attract widescale younger audiences, the film is foremost a very effective reservoir for the cool menace that star Samuel L. Jackson can project, and will connect largely on the basis of that strength.

The story revolves around a young couple, Chris and Lisa Mattson (Patrick Wilson and Kerry Washington, respectively), who buy their first home in an upper-middle-class southern California suburb, and immediately clash with their new neighbor Abel Turner (Jackson), a stern single father of two who makes known his disapproval of their interracial relationship. Abel is also a veteran police officer, which complicates matters when passive-aggressive acts of harassment that could be misconstrued (a mock parking ticket on the couple’s first day in town, security lights on Abel’s house shining directly into the Mattson’s bedroom) give way to various acts of vandalization.

For a while Chris and Lisa try to make nice, even offering Abel’s teen daughter the use of their swimming pool — a welcome oasis in the sweltering heat, which is partially responsible for nearby raging wildfires. When Abel’s campaign of harassment persists, however, Chris and Lisa succumb to measures of payback. Things come to a boil just as a fire descends from the hill that abuts their land.

More or less a critical darling since his incendiary 1997 debut, In the Company of Men, LaBute has never scored with domestic audiences to the tune of more than $25 million. Lakeview Terrace, however, represents the slickest packaging yet of the themes that have most often defined his work — the inherent tension of interpersonal relationships, and how differences (in race, gender and religion) often radically divide us. The screenplay handles the story treatment fairly seriously, taking care to nicely shade and fill in Abel’s back story, but also spotlight his manipulativeness. The first hour of the film is very effective in building tension. Abel speaks in coded vagaries that allow him to maintain plausible deniablity, but flashes of his temper — including an argument over global warming at garden party — reveal a tightly wound man barely in control of his emotions.

Apart from an implausible conversation between Chris and Abel after a stakes-raising incident, the only real narrative stumbles are the aforementioned ending and the inclusion of bickering discord between Chris and Lisa about when to start a family. The latter plot strand slightly factors into proceedings, but comes across chiefly as just a way to stall action with regards to the main story. The film’s aggressive finale, meanwhile, feels like a concession to commercial pressure, and out of step with the nuance and care with which the rest of the story is told. For the full review, from Screen International, click here. (Sony/Screen Gems, PG-13, 110 minutes)

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