Posted in: Movies | Tagged: christopher plummer, entertainment, film, Francois Lelord, Hector and the Search for Happiness, jean reno, Maria von Heland, Peter Chelsom, rosamund pike, simon pegg, stellan skarsgaard, Tinker Lindsay, Toni Collete

Hector And The Search For Happiness – A Chocolate Covered Pickle

By Chris Maltby

Simon Pegg has, over the years, cultivated a specific cult of personality, quietly positioning himself as one of the leading figures in the great Geek Pantheon, an unabashed fanboy with an almost encyclopedic knowledge of nerdy esoterica, running the gamut of sci-fi to comics to philosophy, often offhandedly-referencing notables as various as Ursula K. Le Guin and Simon Bisley. The graciousness extended to him by the geek community is massive and deserved, and this wave of endearment extends to most projects he involves himself with, even those that are found lacking or even downright terrible; never seeming to mar his reputation, they slip from him like he was greased Teflon.

Which is why the disastrously atonal mess that is Peter Chelsom's Hector and the Search for Happiness leaves not only the most miserable of impressions, but also the lingering sense of dread when considering the prospect of Simon Pegg's ability to carry future films solely on the extended goodwill of his fanbase.

Based on the novel by author and former psychiatrist François Lelord, Happiness centers around the titular Hector, a successful London based psychiatrist who, whilst possessing all the trappings of modern society that leaves one (seemingly) comfortable, content and fulfilled, both materially and emotionally, is mentally unmoored, fixated on the belief that he is little more than a cog in a machine that perpetually advances his patients forward only enough to get them to their next session, and that his half hearted psychiatric advice is, in truth, ineffectual. Contemplating this, Hector leaves England and his patient and understanding girlfriend, (played by a criminally under utilized and cheaply written Rosamund Pike, reduced to alternately acting distraught over Hector or strangely sassy, all the while riding a fertility fugue state with no logical connection between the three) and embarks on a globe trotting adventure to discover what happiness truly means.

Along the way Hector encounters a host of broadly written characters, most of whom veer dangerously close to being both racially and culturally insensitive. The film is littered with co-stars including Stellan Skarsgaard, Jean Reno, Toni Collete and Christopher Plummer, all of whom show up with their boots on, but are reduced to fruitless window dressing for Hector's ridiculous endeavors, cheap cyphers with which to hang Hector's various neuroses on, be it issues of mortality, sexuality, abandonment, guilt or whatever random issue the script decides needs addressing at that moment.

Though Chelsom's decision to shoot internationally in various locales sounds like it would lend a verisimilitude to the film that the simple use of green scan couldn't, there is never any real sense of place established, be it the mountains of Tibet or the oddly nameless location in Africa (where I suppose for too many the simple moniker of "Africa" tells them all they apparently need know).  It seems like Chelsom felt it was enough to just show up in the perpetually neon lit, gloom filled streets of Shanghai or the ranging vistas of the African savannah without actually giving context to the place, or its place in Hector's journey, an unfortunate and wasteful use of the natural personality these locations possess.

These are the more forgivable shortcomings of the film however when compared to the almost belligerent tonal changes that occur throughout its run; Chelsom seems to intend on simultaneously  projecting whimsy, comedy, and human drama through the use of cloyingly twee animation, a brief treatise on human sex trafficking and a symbolic, spectral Boston Terrier, resulting in a film that is at best quirky, at worst schizophrenic; Neither a comedic journey about a bumbling cartoonish psychiatrist, nor the naval gazing exploration into a universal truth that's speaks to the modern worlds existential ennui Chelsom arrogantly intends. Ambitious though the melding of these ideas could be, in practice they are absolutely lacking, inducing a jarring sense of displacement and confusion, like biting into a chocolate covered pickle; confusing, unusual, and not remotely pleasant.

Though Chelsom and co-writers Tinker Lindsay and Maria von Heland hit the mark on some of the more game jokes, the tepid, underwhelming script rarely delivers the results they seem to crave, unraveling in an ending so pat that it could have been accomplished by a fifth grader's English Lit creative writing assignment.

Back to Pegg, who has proven his abilities as an actor time and again, most recently as Gary King in Edgar Wright's marvelous The Worlds End, (conversely a fantastic use of the previously mentioned Pike), playing a multi-faceted character that, if award season were truly a meritocracy, should have nabbed him some long due recognition. So to see him flounder here, jumping from one conflicting character beat to the next in what could be his most commercially viable stateside vehicle yet, leaves me wondering if the usually unassailable geek demi-god might have finally tarnished his image.

Chris Maltby is an NYC based street walkin' cheetah with a heart full of napalm.
You can find him on Twitter @TheMovieFilth if you dare.

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