Swiss
Army Man: a truly bizarre film
made up of idiosyncratic fantasies many of which, even so, seem familiar. Opening the story is Hank (Dano) on a
deserted beach trying to hang himself, when he looks up to see a body washed up
from the sea. He almost strangles
himself getting down to see about the man (which is actually a preview of his
woeful survival skills in general) and is horrified to find the young man
(Radcliffe) is already dead.
Hank drags the body up to his campsite,
sheltering in a cave when it rains and mulling over what he should do. As time passes and his sense of
isolation deepens, he starts talking to the body, voicing many of his fears and
anxieties, hopes and dreams. You’d
think he was in a therapist’s office.
Perhaps, just like in a
therapist’s office when the patient projects his fantasies onto the therapist,
which become a reality of their own, what we see may be Hank’s fantasies or
some kind of magical phenomenon wherein the dead regain life; because at one
point, the body stirs, convulses, and finally, apparently, talks. (I say perhaps, because it’s not necessarily clear what the
writers/directors—Dan Kwan and Daniel Scheinert—have in mind—simply psychological projections
or some kind of magical phenomenon where the dead regain life. I’m thinking the former.)
At any rate, Manny—we learn his name when he
talks—becomes a “tool” (hence, Swiss Army Man?) for Hank to use either to overcome his weaknesses and/or lead him
back to life and civilization. But more concretely, he uses Manny's stiff body as a tool as well.
The conversations between Hank and Manny deal
with fundamental, practical things like riding a bus, emotional expressions,
and how to get girls, but at times they take on a more
philosophical/psychological tone when the two discuss sex, death, social
conformity and acceptability, and the meaning of life. This was much more interesting to me
than the boyish humor about farts, which went on far too long in the beginning.
Probably the most delightful sequence is in the
middle of the film when Hank “dresses up” in found items on the beach and
constructs vehicles, etc., out of them.
Then the two do roleplay that evinces the social life that Hank always
dreamed of having but could never achieve. Much of the success of these scenes certainly belong to the
actors, but production design (Jason Kisvarday), art direction (David Duarte)
and set decoration (Kelsi Ephraim) should be credited as well. Their imaginative creations are so
delightful I was glad they appeared again at the very end of the film.
The music by Andy Hull and Robert McDowell is just as incredible. It is lyrical and perfectly apt for what is going
on in every scene. Much of the
score is without instruments; instead, Hull and McDowell used their voices in
creating all kinds of sounds and making it seem like the songs are coming from
the characters.
Swiss
Army Man is not for everyone; it includes standard jokes that typically
evoke laughs and focuses on things most people consider gross. However, it is more than that in its portrayal
of people who don’t really fit in, are highly creative, and are often rejected
by society. (Hank has obviously
been brought up to hold in higher esteem what is socially expected over
creativity and joie de vivre.)
These are serious points that shouldn’t be ignored.
Like Judd Apatow and sex, the writers/directors
“Daniels” have a penchant for highlighting as many of the, typically considered
gross, bodily functions as they can; e.g., farting (of course), defecation, and
vomiting. And they pull in
masturbation and sex in general as well.
But they are fine artists who have points to make about human psychology
and social constrictions. My wish
is that reviewers would focus more on the latter than the former.
Go beyond the farts, and appreciate the
art and social commentary of this film.
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