The Great New Wonderful

Everyone does a stellar job of being ordinary and boring. The movie hangs together well enough, its just not the slice of life I would want to view for any length of time. Shaloub was the motivation for watching the film, and he doesn't disappoint. Tony's "Monk" character is starting to capture his face and makes it hard not to think of Adrian. He might want to dump that part soon so he doesn't end up pigeon holed. There isn't enough Shaloub in the movie to redeem it for me. It was just a little uninteresting.

The couple with the psychotic son were unbelievable at best. I suppose its better than some. Decide for yourself. If you don't want to bounce between stories use the DVD special bonus feature that lets you watch each story individually.

Not bad but not so great either, "The Great New Wonderful" suffers from IIS: Insufferable Indie Syndrome. In trying to serve up a few slices of life in post 9/11 New York, the director of the truly wonderful comedies "Dude, Where's My Car?" and "Harold and Kumar" tries awful hard to be Subtle, Tasteful, and Artistic. The problem is, the results are way TOO Subtle, Tasteful, and Artistic. So much so that there are practically no emotions, no connections, no dramatic effect. Even a handful of very good performances can't save the underwritten script and lackluster direction.

Memo to the Director: GO BACK TO COMEDY! (It actually takes a lot more skill and creativity to produce a clever comedy than to churn out another clichéd indie drama.)

It's admirable that director Danny Leiner and screenwriter Sam Catlin have attempted to tackle the inarticulate emotional toll that 9/11 has taken on a group of New Yorkers rather than tell a more visceral story directly related to the tragedy (like Paul Greengrass' "United 93" or Oliver Stone's "World Trade Center"). Unfortunately, the filmmakers' intended cathartic exercise falls significantly short due to a too-subtle patchwork narrative and the film's relentlessly enervating pace. Five unconnected stories begin a year after 9/11, and we are taken through the characters' paces in dealing with some form of emotional denial. The most pertinent thread is initially the most comic one in which a seemingly well-adjusted office worker named Sandie talks to a sardonic psychologist, Dr. Trabulous, about the impact of the tragedy.

The other episodes are somewhat more removed from the events of that day - Avi and Satish, a couple of bickering Indian security agents overseeing the speaking engagement of a foreign diplomat; a married couple, David and Allison, whose overweight adolescent son Charlie has become socially dysfunctional; Judie, an older woman in Brooklyn quietly seething about her tedious marriage as she seeks the company of Jerry, an old schoolmate; and an upscale cake designer named Emme who is trying to land a big client at the expense of her famous rival, Safarah. None of the stories really connect with each other except for a rather contrived scene in an elevator, though that seems to be the filmmakers' point, that the scope of 9/11 affected each of their immediate situations in idiosyncratic ways. The movie only runs 87 minutes, but it takes at least an hour for the stories to take shape toward some common dramatic point. Even then, it still feels too nebulous to make a resonant emotional impact, and consequently, the opportunity for catharsis feels frittered away.

It's not for the lack of a good cast. Stand-up comic Jim Gaffigan brings out Sandie's inner torment palpably as Tony Shalhoub listens with oblique bemusement; Maggie Gyllenhaal displays the steely shallowness of Emme as she faces an unexpected turn; Naseeruddin Shah and Sharat Saxena dexterously show their characters' opposing views on life and what secrets may lie beneath; Judy Greer and Tom McCarthy bring surprising depth to a couple confounded by their son's eruptive violence; and Olympia Dukakis is stoic strength personified as Judie. Edie Falco has nothing more than a cameo as Safarah, but her moments count. New York City is captured crisply by cinematographer Harlan Bosmajian on high-definition video. The DVD has a rather informal but somewhat interesting commentary track by Leiner and Catlin, as well as several deleted scenes and unused footage of the city. An intriguing extra is the ability to watch each of the five episodes separately as individual shorts. There is also the theatrical trailer, a gallery of stills accompanied by the soundtrack, and a helpful blurb about the outreach program organized to deal with post-9/11 trauma.

Seemingly mild-mannered Sandie (Jim Gaffigan) is treated by company therapist Dr. Trabulous (Tony Shalhoub). Allison (Judy Greer) and David Burbage (Tom McCarthy) have volatile son Charlie. Judy Hillerman (Olympia Dukakis) is a jewish wife in a cold marriage. Cake designer Emme Keeler (Maggie Gyllenhaal) has a big upcoming presentation. Danny Keeler (Will Arnett) is her husband and Safarah Polsky (Edie Falco) is her big competitor. Avi and Satish are immigrants from India on a security assignment. These separate stories are happening in and around Manhattan.

This is stacked filled with good actors. The problem is that none of the stories are that compelling. They are barely connected in a peripheral way . They are lackluster separately and aimless. There is limited overarching themes. The indie filming is low res digital. Other than the great cast, there is nothing here. I can't even pick one story that I want to follow.

If hysteria was the symptom of the nineteenth century and schizophrenia that of the twentieth, The Great New Wonderful, confronts the question of what symptoms will characterize the twenty-first – and what better place to look than Post 9/11 New York City? Dr. Trabulous (Tony Shalhoub) nails it when he says that he senses in patient Sandie (Jim Gaffigan) "anger" and "disappointment". These symptoms characterize the five stories that weave through the film.

In Emme's story we see a fancy cake maker (Maggie Gyllenhaal) who is trying to nab the top spot from competitor Safarah Polsky (Edie Falco). David (Thomas McCarthy) and Allison (Judy Greer) are struggling to raise a troubled, overweight, possibly violent child. Judy Hillerman (Olympia Dukakis) finds herself going through the motions in her Coney Island prison of a middle class life and in Avi's story, he (Naseeruddin Shah) and his partner face changed expectations of other people. In each anger and disappointment hold sway. The film has very subtle references to its post-9/11 setting. Avi looks up when he hears a plane pass overhead. Allison turns on the nature noises machine on the bedside table in an unsuccessful attempt to drown out the noise of sirens that fills the bedroom. And Safari Polsky, bowing under the weight of her own ambition, sighs when she says that after all that has happened nothing has changed. The tension builds throughout the film and the comedy becomes blacker as we understand the characters better and come to empathize with their symptoms.

Danny Liener, Sam Catlin and Matt Tauber do a great job weaving the stories together into a coherent whole, despite the ambiguities left in each story. The film does not attempt to answer the questions it poses, simply extracting them from what seems like a smooth exterior. Cinematographer Harlan Bosmajian does an incredible job with limited time and resources creating a fantastic looking film.

Like Salman Rushdie's book, Fury, GNW illustrates the underlying anger characterizing contemporary cosmopolitan life and the fine line that separates civilization from the bubbling up of this fury and chaos. Add the post-traumatic stress of 9/11 and you get an amazing story of society and humanity. As Rushdie writes, "But our nature is our nature and uncertainty is at the heart of what we are, uncertainty per se, in and of itself, the sense that nothing is written in stone, everything crumbles. As Marx was probably still saying out there in the junkyard of ideas, . . . all that is solid melts into air. In a public climate of such daily-trumpeted assurance, where did our fears go to hide? On what did they feed? On ourselves, perhaps . . . "