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THE BOSS OF IT ALL (NR) The films of Lars von
Trier can be obtuse, difficult and more than mild
ly upsetting. The Dogme 95 founder is most often
concerned with making a point with the direct,
flattening power of a large hammer. Whether
he sways opinion or leaves one with a dented
skull is of no concern to him. Be it his arduously
rewarding masterpieces (Breaking the Waves and
Dogville), his noble experiments (the industrial
musical Dancer in the Dark), or his out-and-out
; abomio^tioos (Dogvtfte's plantation-bound,sequel thi
Mandedny), von_Tfier pres
ents a captivating vision,
often of an America tie
refuses to visit, filled with
romanticism, cynicism and
cold, hard humanity. Once
upon a time, however, von
Trier composed cheeky
comedies like television
serial "The Kingdom," and
1998's The Idiots. The
Boss of It Alt is definitely
a.return to lighter mate
rial. The filmmaker says so
in an opening voiceover
wherein he informs the
audience of the trifling in
significance of this film. He desires for it to stick
with one only for its 100-minute duration, no
more and no less. But ever the impish trickster,
von Trier has instead given us a comedy on par
with Jean Renoir's classic socialist indictment of
capitalism, The Crime of Monsieur Lange.
While trying to sell his IT company to a vit
riolic Icelander (Fridrik Thor Fridriksson), Ravn
(the ursine Peter Gantzler, who resembles Treat
Williams circa "Everwood") finds himself in a
Peter Gantzler and Jens Albinus
pickle. The rancorous buyer, Finnur, wants to
meet the company president, the fictional "doss
of it all" created by self-proclaimed wuss Ravn to
do all the dirty business stuff: firings, canceling
of staff outings, etc. To get around this slight
hiccup, Ravn has hired an out-of-work actor,
Kristoffer (Jens Albinus, The Idiots), a preten
tious thespian obsessed with obscure fictional
absurdist Gambini, to portray Svend E., the
made-up "boss of it all." Scripting little more
than an introduction to Finnur, Ravn then hangs
Kristoffer/ Svend out to
dry. Having to play a dif
ferent boss for each of his
six finicky employees, the
unprepared Svend puts his
improvisational instincts
to the ultimate test as he
is inserted into numerous
ongoing email conversa
tions and uncomfortable
"Office"-style warfare that
would make Michael Scott's
and David Brent's heads
collectively spin. (Brent,
Ricky Gervais' now classic
example of poor middle
management, is an obvi
ous inspiration for Ravn, who just wants to be
loved by the friends and coworkers he has face
lessly manipulated and screwed over for 10 years.
Ditto for Steve Carell's Scott.) I was premature
in naming Superbad the second funniest film of
-the summer, a title that should go to Boss. I'll
content myself with calling von Trier's latest the
summer's funniest non-English language picture.
Drew Wheeler
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THE SLUMS OF THE UPPER EAST SIDE
THE NANNY DIARIES (PG-13) Unlike last sum
mer's critical and commercial hit, The Devil Wears
Prada, the oft-shuffled Nanny Diaries—first it
was a spring release; then it was relegated to
August's graveyard—lacks a performance around
which critics and the Academy can rally. No
powerful Meryl Streeps or trenchant Emily Blunts
reside in The Nanny Diaries, just blah Anne
Hathaways. It isn't bad; it's
bland. Too light to be taken
seriously and too serious to
be taken lightly, the film,
directed and adapted for the
screen by American Splendor's
Shari Springer Berman and
Robert Pulcini, never finds
the appropriate tone. If
Annie Braddock's (Scarlett
Johansson) adventures in
nannying are meant to be a
satirical look at the irrespon
sible child-rearing—or lack
thereof—of Manhattan's upper
crust, they tug too much at
the heartstrings. Little victim
Grayer (Nicholas Reese Art) is
treated like an expensive ac
cessory-something to adorn the appropriate oc
casion (or outfit)—by his mother, Mrs. X (Laura
Linney), and serially neglected by his father,
Mr. X (Paul Giamatti). Knowing that such poor
parenting not only occurs but is encouraged in
the right circles by delusional groups of mothers
led by parasitic experts foments a discomfiture
powerful enough to overwhelm any surrounding
humor. At least with The Devil Wears Prada, all
the humiliation and aggravation rained down
upon the head of a very willing accomplice who
had chosen her helL In The Nanny Diaries, the
indignities faced by Annie, a college graduate
who opted for her profession in order to delay
her entrance into the real world, pale next to the
heartbreaking treatment of poor Grayer.
Fans of Emma McLaughlin and Nicola Kraus'
novel may be steeled for the absolutely disgust
ing mismanagement of an
entire generation of pampered
tots, but I was not. Chuckling
at Scarlett Jo in a revealing
Betsy Ross costume or sighing
at the woo made by Harvard
Hottie (Chris Evans, Fantastic
Four) was forestalled by Mrs.
X's self-involvement and Mr.
X's philandering. Johansson's
weak comedic skills—she
may have thrice the dramatic
prowess of Amanda Bynes, but
she's half the comedienne—
don't increase the laughability
of bathtub farts and pan-
tsings. Springer Berman and
Pulcini bring an attention-
grabbing intertextuality to
this pseudo-anthropological deconstruction of
New York's socialite parents with museum exhib
its and textbook illustrations. However, this in
decisive film could never disengage me from the
parenting reality it was decoding to enjoy the
astoundingly weak Annie's discovery of herself.
I guess that's w^at I get for reading someone
else's diaries.
Drew Wheeler
Scarlett Johansson and Nicholas Reese Art
18 FLAGPOLE.COM • AUGUST 29,2007
NEWS & FEATURES I ARTS L EVENTS I MOVIES I MUSIC I COMICS & ADVICE I CLASSIFIEDS
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