Spoilers, though with this movie it's kind of besides the point:
I'm kinda perplexed at all the critical acclaim that Payne, the director, gets. Sure, he can get some good performances out of actors from time to time (Witherspoon in Election, Laura Dern in Citizen Ruth) but to me the guy is fairly hamfisted as a satire director. Too often he goes for shallow, cliched caricature instead of something really critical and insightful. Example: In About Schmidt, Dermot Mulroney plays Nicholson's son-in-law-to-be, and the gag is he's a waterbed salesman with a huge mullet. And that's it. Sure, the mullet's funny for the first couple scenes, then it becomes clear that Payne isn't interested in this character for any reason other than making us laugh at the mullet.
Really, the key reason to watch is to see Nicholson totally disappear into the character of Schmidt. He doesn't look a thing like the Nicholson from the Lakers games. He's got a 66-year-old's gut, a bad comb-over and quite a collection of sweaters. The remarkable thing about the movie is that its central character is such a shell of a man, so empty and without any imaginative faculties, yet he's still fascinating. Ever wonder what your boss is like at home, instead of at work where he's nagging you about putting a cover sheet on your TPS reports? Watch this movie. This is a sobering, increasingly sad portrait of soon-to-be-elderly Americans. Those whose ambitions in life were a nice house in the suburbs, the occasional office party and an RV. Or, put another way, Schmidt is who Jeffrey Wigand from The Insider would turn into if he still worked at the tobacco company.
Oh, and pay to see this movie, and you'll see Kathy Bates' sagging, 50-something titties flapping in the breeze. Klimov will love it, even though she's not masturbating while asphyxiating herself during the scene... Y'know, realism and everything...
About Schmidt
1This is a snakeskin jacket. And for me it's a symbol of my individuality and my belief in personal freedom.
