Movie review: Steve Carell and Paul Rudd can't quite carry 'Dinner for Schmucks' ** 1/2

Steve Carell and Paul Judd in 'Dinner for Schmucks' PHOTOGRAPHY BY: MERIE WEISMILLER Enlarge

Steve Carell may be leaving The Office and his buffoonish Michael Scott after the upcoming season, but the character isn't necessarily leaving him.

Certainly not anytime soon.

In the new comedy Dinner For Schmucks, Carell plays Barry, a low-level IRS employee who happens to be a schmuck. Barry might as well be named Michael Scott; both are clueless, well-meaning social spectacles with the maturity level of an average 13-year-old.

There's little to separate the characters from each other, with the exception of Barry's back story and peculiar fascination with dressing up stuffed rodents, like hairy versions of Ken and Barbie.

Carell doesn't play the characters much differently either, in both cases going for broad laughs based on awkward moments and childish behavior.

The actor may have been able to pull that off had he been paired with a strong comedic partner as the film's straight man. Paul Rudd isn't it.

Rudd plays Tim, a mid-level executive who dreams of moving up the corporate chain.

Tim is pursuing a wealthy Swede as a client, which is a corporate no-no given his lower standing in the company. But Tim's chutzpah impresses his boss (Bruce Greenwood), who invites him to a special dinner in which company executives each bring along a guest idiot to unknowingly compete for title of biggest schmuck.

Each buffoon has his/her moment to shine during the dinner, and Tim is sure if he can find the winning schmuck he'll be that much closer to the big promotion.

Fate delivers that opportunity when Tim accidentally smashes into Barry with his car. Seeing Barry as his Golden Ticket, Tim invites him to the special dinner, while Barry thinks he's made a new best friend.

Tim's ultimate motivation for all of this is to impress his girlfriend, Julie (Stephanie Szostak), an art curator. Tim knows Julie would never approve of a dinner for schmucks, so he lies and says he's not going to his boss' event. Meanwhile, he begins to worry that Julie is falling for the sexual charms of her egotistical artist-client Kieran (Jemaine Clement, in a wickedly funny performance).

Barry tries to help Tim learn the truth about Julie and Kieran's relationship, only to make matters worse by contacting Tim's one-time-fling-turned stalker, Darla (Lucy Punch), as part of a larger plan.

Dinner For Schmucks' script by David Guion and Michael Handelman, based on the French film Le Diner de Cons, gives most everyone in the cast a good laugh or two. But the film is funniest when Zach Galifianakis (The Hangover) is onscreen. Galifianakis steals almost every scene with his character Therman, Barry's boss, who also claims the ability to control minds, namely Barry's. The film's standout moment is the showdown between Therman and Barry during the schmuck dinner. During those few minutes of frantic humor, Dinner For Schmucks is elevated into The Hangover territory. But it's never able to consistently deliver such hearty laughs, instead, Dinner For Schmucks is a comedy of big moments with very little in between.

It should come as no surprise that the film's director is Jay Roach, best known for the broad comedy franchises of Austin Powers and Meet the Parents. Subtlety clearly isn't Roach's strong suit, and his Dinner For Schmucks works best when it delivers those same kind of anything-for-a-laugh jokes, especially when it spreads the humor throughout the talented cast.

Unfortunately, the film squanders a large amount of prime comedy real estate time trying to convince us that Carell and Rudd, gifted character actors who excel in crowded comedies, are humor heavyweights. They're not.

They worked so well together in The 40 Year Old Virgin precisely because they mostly didn't work alone.

It's the same principle for Dinner For Schmucks.

When Carell and Rudd are paired with other actors, the jokes usually come along at a reasonable clip. It's when they're isolated onscreen for long periods of time that the jokes quickly dry up and the humor becomes more desperate, like an improvised scene that's gone on three minutes too long.

Contact Kirk Baird at:

kbaird@theblade.com

or 419-724-6734.