Dinner for Schmucks

Directed by Jay Roach. Starring Steve Carell, Paul Rudd, Jemaine Clement, Jeff Dunham, Bruce Greenwood, Ron Livingston, Zach Galifianakis, Lucy Punch, Larry Wilmore, Stephanie Szostak 12A cert, gen release, 114 mins

There are enough cruel laughs to make up for the lulls in this comedy of mean-spirited manners, writes TARA BRADY

THERE ARE many talented non-schmucks involved in this lacklustre reworking of Francis Veber's 11-year-old The Dinner Game. But even the collective might of Steve Carell, Paul Rudd and Austin Powersdirector Jay Roach can't quite get this particular feedbag cooking.

As with the 1998 original, there’s a commendably mean-spirited premise at work here. Ambitious equity analyst Tim (Paul Rudd) wants a nice, fat promotion so that he can marry his glamorous curator girlfriend (Stephanie Szostak), thereby preventing her from

falling into the carnal clutches of a pretentious he-man artist ( Flight of the Conchords' Jermaine Clement). If, however, Tim wishes to impress his heartless capitalist boss (Bruce Greenwood) and various attending lickspittles, he will have to shine at the annual Dinner for Extraordinary People, a social event where privileged high-flyers each invite their own fool.

Enter Steve Carell, a clueless academic with a penchant for making diaramas from stuffed dead mice. Can Tim survive this eager idiot’s friendship long enough to make waves among the elect? Or will our corporate hero’s conscience catch up with him before the eponymous supper?

Comedy, like a great many things, relies on sadism, so the movie's insistence on laughing at morons, then chastising the audience for same, is not nearly as problematic as its sudden shifts in tone. Too frequently Dinner for Schmucksgets cutesy-pie when it needs to hold its nerve, or comes over nasty when it needs to play nice.

Carell's character is a case in point. Is he a variation on that actor's perennially unaware manager from The Office, or is he genuinely a special needs case? The script, which clumsily relies on him forgetting things from minute to minute, is uncomfortably unclear in this regard, not to mention uncomfortably lacking in mirth.

Happily, the supporting cast fare better; Zach Galifinakiss's amateur mentalist and tax office drone is a standout, as is Clement's wannabe satyr. These fellows may not be able to rescue the enterprise in its entirety, but they do ensure that as remakes of French farces go, this is infinitely more palatable than The Birdcage. Robin Williams in feathers, anyone?