FilmBlather.com

"The truth: it's overrated."

Up to the last five minutes or so, I really liked The Big Kahuna. Had the power suddenly gone out in the theater shortly before the closing credits rolled, this would be an enthusiastic recommendation. But the power didn't go out and film, directed by John Swanbeck from a stage play by Roger Rueff (who also adapted it for the screen), pulls an odious stunt that rapidly deflates it, taking away a good portion of the film's complexity and ambiguity and leaving nothing to the imagination. The rest of the movie more or less sparkles, but the ending is the equivalent of a swift whack over the head with a two-by-four.

Taking place almost entirely in one room, the movie is about a business convention. Three industrial lubricant salesmen gather in a hospitality suit, hoping to court a major client (referred to as the Big Kahuna) who is supposed to show up at a reception that night. Phil (Danny DeVito) is a world-weary, rational businessman who is satisfied by simply sitting on the couch and reading a newspaper or Penthouse magazine. Larry (Kevin Spacey), Phil's longtime partner, is an intensely cynical and bluntly honest fellow who arrives at the suite dissatisfied with everything he sees. Finally, Bob (Peter Facinelli) is a young, newlywed Christian Conservative with a staunch moral code and strong faith in Jesus. He's the newcomer to the company.

Problems arise when the Big Kahuna doesn't show up at the reception. Larry panics. When Phil suggests that they may have simply missed him, Larry yells that he went around looking at everybody's nametag and to those without a nametag he came up and asked "Hi, what's your name?" The only one who is not worried is Bob. While bartendering, he had a scintillating conversation with a guy wearing someone else's nametag. They talked about dogs, family and Jesus. Bob didn't realize that the man he was talking to was the Big Kahuna in person. When Larry finds out that Bob knows where this hotshot client is going next, he sends Bob there to tell him to meet them at the hotel the next day. When Bob comes back reporting that the two talked only about Jesus, he risks giving Larry a brain aneurism.

Not surprisingly, The Big Kahuna is all talking. The script is smartly written, full of insightful dialogue, snappy one-liners and plenty of opportunities for the high-profile cast to show off. The movie is highly entertaining, remindful of some of David Mamet's best work in its unsparing, often hilarious cynicism.

Then, unexpectedly, the movie starts raising issues. Conversations transform from inconsequential to existential, with long, in-depth conversations about religion, materialism, morality, honesty and the idea that people selling Jesus are no better or worse than the people selling industrial lubricant ("Did you happen to talk about what brand of lubricant Jesus would use?"). The dialogue really jelled and started to make sense in my mind; I began forming my own interpretation of what was going on onscreen. This is truly insightful stuff, I thought. And then the movie stops dead in its tracks.

After a scintillating, thought-provoking 90 minutes, The Big Kahuna has one of its characters literally deliver a monologue to the camera dictating what the movie we've just seen was about, effectively toppling any interpretation I may have come up with. I was astonished. How could such an ambitious movie pummel itself so mercilessly? If this is a film for the thinking person, why doesn't it at least respect its audience? I have a possible answer to that question -- the possibility of the movie being misconstrued as a diatribe against religion may have struck fear into the screenwriter -- but it's no excuse. A film like this has to either hold back on the controversial commentary or go all the way. The Big Kahuna is like an inch-too-far check swing that's called a strike.