Film has really become the quintessential American art form – arguably our greatest and most influential export to the international market. However, the list of great filmmakers with a sharp eye on the American cultural landscape is slowly shrinking. The Coen Brothers, Paul Thomas Anderson, Alexander Payne, to name some of the greats, have made a career out of plucking stories from the forgotten corners of the Fargos, Nebraskas and the Little Bostons of American lore. To much less acclaim, the Hess family – a rare husband-and-wife writing duo – have quietly been writing stories about the bizarre pockets of this country that make it so fascinating. Their first and most successful feature, Napoleon Dynamite, became a generation-defining dose of suburban Idaho teenage hilarity a short decade ago. They crossed the southern border for their follow-up, the even quirkier Luchador fable Nacho Libre, and the small-town fantasy book farce Gentleman Broncos. Their latest film, Don Verdean, may be their most American film yet.
Don Verdean follows the eponymous archeologist (Sam Rockwell), a has-been, public-access type star who found minor success uncovering ancient Biblical relics. Now, Verdean is forever driving town to town selling books and DVDs of his findings out of his shoddy RV. After a small-town pastor (Danny McBride) agrees to fund a series of expeditions for artifacts such as Goliath’s skull to bring back the congregation he has lost to a new, rival church down the road, Verdean and his motley team begin to get themselves into some controversy.
If there is anything the Hess’ do best, it is creating an American that is stuck in the purgatory of past and present.
The concept of Don Verdean is brilliant. It is wacky in the typical Hessian sense, balancing smart satire and low-brow comedy. The movie never plays out as clever as its concept, unfortunately. As with most of the Hess’ previous films, it is more quirky than it is funny. It lacks a real across-the-board comic inertia to get anywhere significant. It loses a lot of steam in the latter half when the attention is turned away from Verdean’s expeditions abroad and the story putters out in a very weak third act love triangle that loses most sight of what makes the concept so fun in the first place.
Contrary to much of his career, Sam Rockwell is never particularly charismatic in the title role. He, unfortunately, does not have too much to play with that supports his typical manic energy, but luckily his supporting cast gets a little more to play with and carry the weight. Amy Ryan is sweet as ever as Verdean’s research assistant and Danny McBride is perfectly cast as pastor Tony Lazarus. It is Jemaine Clement, though – who has been tiptoeing through a wonderful year following standout performances in What We Do In Shadows and People, Places, Things – who gets the belly of the few audible laughs as Verdean’s Israeli guide, Boaz.
On the flip side, what makes the film rather admirable is its wonderful sense of the folly of religion. The Hess’ refrain from ever-too-obvious jabs and take a more absurd lens to an increasingly absurd institution. Hats off to Hess’ visual sense in creating a world that feels rather odd, though never too far off in time and place. If there is anything the Hess’ do best, it is creating an American that is stuck in the purgatory of past and present. In only that very visual sense, Don Verdean could rival Napoleon Dynamite as perhaps the Hess’ best film. If only it had any laughs to make it timeless.
Don Verdean opens at Laemmle theaters and on VOD this Friday.
