Directed by: Clark Gregg
Starring: Joel Grey, Brad William Henke, Angelica Huston, Gillian Jacobs, Kelly MacDonald, Sam Rockwell
Rating: R
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| Brad William Henke and Sam Rockwell in Choke. (Courtesy photo) |
Ah, now some interesting movies are sneaking into theaters in advance of the holiday rush.
Choke, based on a novel by
Fight Club author Chuck Palahniuk, delves into a dark character and his dark history with shaggy delight. It’s inescapable from start to finish, even if it doesn’t add up to a whole lot by the end. There’s meaning to be found in
Choke, but its more impressive facets are the two central performances by Sam Rockwell and Angelica Huston, and the slyly complex plot that Palahniuk has hidden within the examination of a very strange mother-son relationship.
Victor Mancini (Rockwell) is not a nice guy. He has a pathological need to sleep with strangers and a complete inability to feel emotional connections. He can’t even get through his Sexaholic Anonymous meetings without disappearing into the storage closet with the girl he’s supposed to be sponsoring. His best (and only) friend Denny (Brad William Henke) suffers the same malady, except he’s his own partner. Victor and Denny work as historical interpreters at a Colonial Williamsburg-style site in New Jersey, where they are constantly being reprimanded for falling out of character by Lord High Charlie (director Clark Gregg). When he isn’t pretending to choke to death in restaurants (in order to bring joy to—and money from—those who rescue him), Victor visits his mother Ida (Huston) in a psychiatric hospital. Ida suffers from dementia and seldom recognizes Victor. He’s determined to find out who his real father is before she loses it completely. Ida’s new doctor, Paige Marshall (Kelly MacDonald), offers not just hope, but real attraction for Victor. This is just the first complication in what may spiral Victor out of control and into becoming a good person.
Director-adaptor Clark Gregg has been a familiar face in film and on television for 20 years. He currently plays Richard in The New Adventures of Old Christine. He also co-wrote the story for the 2000 thriller What Lies Beneath. Gregg’s adaptation is a little heavy on the first person narration—a common crutch for a first-time director. He wants his movie to be a bit scruffier than it turns out, what with fairly evenly placed flashbacks and a handful of tidy little “character-expanding” vignettes. But Gregg does a fine job overall, while giving himself a plum of a role. He also deserves credit for recruiting father-in-law Joel Grey to play the leader of the Sexaholics Anonymous group. Grey must be the youngest 76-year-old alive. He is mesmerizing in his few scenes, making us wish he were in it more.
In fact, the whole cast is like that. Gillian Jacobs is so appealing in her brief scenes as a stripper nicknamed Cherry Daiquiri that she almost offsets the movie with her presence. We’ll be seeing more of her soon. Henke is quite lovable as Denny, in spite of playing a guy who can’t stop touching himself. Some people aren’t big on Kelly MacDonald, but I always enjoy her. Think what you like, but it’s no coincidence the young British actress keeps showing up in very good movies (No Country For Old Men, The Girl In the Cafe, Gosford Park). Angelica Huston is amazing as the old woman wasting away in the hospital, as well as the nutty activist toting her son through a disastrous childhood in flashback. Huston will get an Oscar nomination, I’m guessing, and deservedly. Rockwell won’t, because for some reason the guy who should have three or four by now isn’t in the club. The devilishly charming Victor is a great fit for Rockwell (Matchstick Men, Confessions of a Dangerous Mind), who seems incapable of playing a role down the center.
Those who know the book (I don’t) say Gregg’s adaptation is a lot less toothy than Palahniuk’s version. That may be so, but it may also have been a wise decision. A long cinematic era of revelling in the shocking levels of human nastiness—kicked off during the emergence of Tarantino in the early ’90s and revitalized with the release of Saw in 2004—seems to have mostly passed, leaving Choke in a precarious place. On its surface it has much of the pedigree of the many black-hearted indie films exploring human depravation. There’s also a pretty heavy amount of foul language, half-hearted yet kinky sex, and nudity. But Choke is really a sweet and even marginally uplifting little film. Palahniuk may or may not be happy about it, but I certainly was.
Alex Manugian lives in Sherman Oaks, California. He grew up in Groton and has reviewed movies for Harvard residents for many years.