Prognosis Fair.

I promised myself I would stop writing six-to-eight-paragraph movie reviews here if one-to-four paragraphs sufficed. Jonathan Levine’s 50-50 is an excellent film to launch the new occasional brevity.

In short, this is a solidly successful attempt at infusing a cancer dramedy with Knocked Up-style Apatowishness — the lowbrow humor, the wry observations, the bromance — and it’s totally fine for what it is. Joseph Gordon-Levitt’s character here is mostly indistinguishable from his turn in (500) Days of Summer — he’s the good guy bad things happen to — and Seth Rogen’s character here is mostly indistinguishable from, well, Seth Rogen. Given this, your mileage may vary.

My main problem with 50/50 is that it telegraphs its characters’ arcs from the beginning. Gordon-Levitt’s original girlfriend, here played by Bryce Dallas Howard, is just a little too unsympathetic from Jump Street — you know she’ll be out the door by Act 2 — while Anna Kendrick’s helpful therapist is so gosh-darned winsome that it’s no surprise she eventually ends up taking her work home with her. 50/50 would’ve been more interesting, I think, if Howard’s character was a reasonably sweet individual who was just overwhelmed by the burdens of the situation. But that’s now how we’re playing it here.

Otherwise, 50/50 has its moments — I particularly liked JGL’s two stoner/chemo buddies, Phillip Baker-Hall and Matt Frewer (getting typecast as a cancer patient?) And, when the film grows darker in its third reel, it feels reasonably well-earned. All in all, 50/50 is a perfectly benign fall date movie.

The Polish 12-Step.

Well, in its favor, John Dahl’s You Kill Me, which I caught Friday night down at the Angelika, has its heart in the wrong place. This tale of an alcoholic hitman trying to find the wagon works really hard to be a wicked and misanthropic black comedy akin to other, better noirs in Dahl’s oeuvre, such as The Last Seduction and Red Rock West. But, while I found myself intermittently amused by the film, the strain shows. In sum, You Kill Me is too self-consciously quirky by half, the jokes are mostly all-setup and little-payoff, and unfortunately Dahl is mining material here that’s already been done better elsewhere, from Sopranos to Fight Club to Six Feet Under to Miller’s Crossing. The result, while not a terrible night at the movies by any means, is probably at best a rental. Or, since it’s an IFC Films production, wait for its no-doubt continual rotation on the IFC Channel…in short, it won’t kill you to hang back on this one.

When we first encounter Polish-American assassin Frank Falencyzk (Ben Kingsley with an inscrutable accent), it’s a snowy winter morning in dreary Buffalo, and Frank is interrupting his daily downing of Smirnoff with occasional, half-hearted stabs at shoveling his steps. But, as we soon discover, half-hearted stabs pretty much sums up Frank’s life these days: his passionate love affair with the bottle has encroached considerably on his predatory livelihood, as evidenced by his sleeping through a crucial hit on local Irish mob boss Edward O’Leary (Dennis Farina). So, after an angry intervention by his gangland employer (Phillip Baker-Hall) and best friend (Marcus Thomas), Frank is shipped off to San Francisco with orders to clean up his act, namely by getting himself into AA and holding down a new job as an undertaker’s assistant. This Frank attempts to do, mainly because he’s being watched by a gun-toting local wiseguy (Bill Pullman) with a passion for the real estate market. But soon Frank has found a new sponsor (Luke Wilson) and a new potential ladyfriend (Tea Leoni), and starts seriously thinking about a life after vodka. Of course, just at this moment, his flailing friends in the Buffalo mafia find they need him back in the worst way…

There’s grist for some pretty dark, funny goings-on in this set-up, and one of the better running jokes is that Frank’s trying to throw off the demon rum — and his friends are helping him — mainly just so he can kill people more efficiently. But, while You Kill Me aims to aim low, it’s already been beaten to the punch by a lot of other solid and memorable films and TV shows. Even notwithstanding Frank’s Tony Soprano-ish vulnerabilities, his adventures in AA were already mostly anticipated by the bleak humor of the first act of Fight Club, and his backroom shenanigans in the mortuary business can’t help but recall similar moments in Six Feet Under. (The Polish v. Irish clan war in Buffalo, meanwhile, mostly recalls Tom Reagan’s negotiating the Irish-Italian divide in Miller’s Crossing.) Some sort of overlap is to be expected, of course — the mob movie isn’t exactly what you’d call a virgin genre at this point — but in each case here, unfortunately, Dahl’s film comes up on the short side.

What’s more, too many of the jokes in You Kill Me are telegraphed long before they reach fruition (c.f. the disgruntled guy at the toll booth), and too many of the plot devices just defy credulity: Tea Leoni’s character, for example, is given a problem with “boundary issues,” mainly because the romance here wouldn’t hang together any other way. Similarly, most of the reveals conveniently take place in the midst of AA meetings in ways that feel entirely too Hollywood to be taken seriously. All this being said, I never quite turned on You Kill Me like I probably should have — Despite its many faults, I did spend most of the film with a smile on my face (This may partly be because Bill Pullman is kicking around back there. He’s pretty over-the-top here — and hard to call a good actor in any case — but he is one of those hard-working character guys I enjoy seeing around. And, if nothing else, he pushes back against the Wilson factor…although, to his credit, Luke here is much less intrusive than his brother Owen tends to be of late.)

In the Company of Men.

Contrary to his admission in Ocean’s 12, I’m happy to report that Topher Grace did not in fact “phone in that Dennis Quaid movie.” In fact, he, Quaid, and much of the supporting cast make In Good Company a sometimes saccharine but ultimately worthwhile evening at the movies. Like Phillip Seymour Hoffman and Todd Louiso, Grace is great at bringing to life characters that we all know in real life but rarely see onscreen, and his turn here as aspiring but well-meaning corporate shark Carter Duryea is no exception. And Quaid, who’s slowly taken on a rugged, masculine resonance in his middle-aged period — sorta like Harrison Ford 6-8 years ago — is equally good as displaced and disgruntled ad sales exec Dan Foreman (probably one of the most goofily symbolic character names since Tom Hanks’ “Chuck Noland” in Cast Away.)

In fact, that “Foreman” gimmick is probably the main problem with In Good Company. It’s painted in broad strokes, and at times, the scriptwriting wheels grind so loudly in this so-warmhearted-its-dopey flick that it took me right out of the film. Quaid’s Foreman doesn’t just love his job — he loves his job, with an intensity and naivete that’s, if not unbecoming, at least unrealistic in a guy his age. Similarly, Grace’s overcaffeinated, underexperienced Duryea seems to know instinctively he’s trodding the wrong path from the get-go, which kills what little uncertainty we had about where the story is going. The one real bad guy (Clark Gregg) is really bad, Duryea’s self-absorbed trophy wife (Selma Blair) is really self-absorbed (their foyer is a shrine to her image), and so on. (Scarlett Johansson, rounding out the top bill as Quaid’s daughter and Grace’s post-Blair love interest, is at turns girlish and womanly as the script necessitates…and I didn’t find her believable at all. Then again, I’ll admit, Lost in Translation notwithstanding, I’m starting to find Johansson as annoyingly mannered as Jeremy Davies on his bad days.)

To be fair to In Good Company, my taste in corporate satire runs closer to Brazil, Office Space, The Office, Glengarry Glen Ross, and In the Company of Men than it does to films like this one, which I think almost undoubtedly speaks worse of me than it does this movie. As he also showed in the surprisingly moving About a Boy, writer-director Paul Weitz is magnanimous to a fault with his characters — at times, he doesn’t seem to want to think badly of any of them. And, particularly with Grace, Quaid, and role players like David Paymer working their mojo, In Good Company‘s kindness is contagious — Annoyed by the sugary-sweetness of it all at first, I found myself slowly and inexorably won over by the movie in the middle hour. By the time Quaid speaks truth to power (in the form of Malcolm McDowell’s Murdoch-like Teddy K) in the final act, I knew the movie was selling me a seriously implausible view of just desserts and the corporate life. But, ultimately, I didn’t mind so much.
Just as the film condemns globalization and “synergy” while throwing in more gratuitous product placements per minute than I’ve seen in some time, In Good Company nevertheless eventually won me over with its generosity of spirit. As Barnum said, there’s a sucker born every minute, and by the end, I was another satisfied customer.