There is hardly a more affable presence in comedy today than Jeff Garlin. The Chicago-born standup comic has gained notoriety for his near-omnipresence in television and film, both behind and in front of the camera, with ties that vary from underground absurdists Tim and Eric to the “Pope of Trash” John Waters to Pixar. He’s clearly a likable guy, as he works continually and has no trouble, for instance, lassoing a horde of talented actors, comedians and improvisers to join him in sending up little league baseball in his new film Dealin’ With Idiots.
Normally a film with an apostrophe in the title would be cause for alarm, but the flippant wispiness it suggests in this case actually works in its favor. Technically, Dealin’ With Idiots is no stunner. In fact, if the credits (and, well, just about every shot) are any indication, this film didn’t even have a director of photography. It hardly matters, though, with a pageant of funny people as reliable as the one Garlin has assembled.
Garlin (who directed and co-wrote with Peter Murrieta) leads the cast as Max Morris, a comedian and father of an especially meager player on a Los Angeles peewee baseball team. During a meeting with the other team members’ parents, he discovers their inanity is so out of this world, it inspires him to interview each in the name of research for a potential film project. Whether he winds up making the film or not is irrelevant (this, undoubtedly, is the film that would have resulted from those interviews). Each vignette is justification for each member of the cast – which includes improv god Fred Willard, Gina Gershon, Jami Gertz, Reno 911’s Kerri Kenney-Silver, Mr. Show‘s Bob Odenkirk, and Garlin’s Curb Your Enthusiasm cohorts Richard Kind and J.B. Smoove – to execute in the time allotted his and her brand of funny.
Like Judd Apatow and Jay Duplass (both of whom are thanked in the credits), Garlin is more in the capacity of host here than director, relying on his company to flesh out the bullet points in his reported 20-page outline, the bulk of which is devoted to much of the forehead-smacking nonsense Garlin witnessed at his real-life son’s little league games. But while he spends most of the film at the ballpark, Garlin astutely veers the focus away from the kids and onto the flowing eccentricities of the adults.
Approaching Dealin’ With Idiots with the surefire knowledge that much of the film is improvised is crucial. There are indicators peppered throughout (Fred Willard can often be seen in the background cupping a hand over his ear to better hear the other actors’ dialogue), but the cast mostly glides through each scene so nimbly that the question of what was written and what was on the fly is a rolling head scratcher. Because of this dynamic, Dealin’ With Idiots plays more like an elongated Curb episode about peripheral characters. A few key detours, however, help salvage it from total tedium.
In one bravura scene, Odenkirk (welcomely playing a more naïve version of his usual hothead) spews a sprawling, entirely improvised story that has more twists and turns than an M. Night Shyamalan bowel movement. Meanwhile, Timothy Olyphant pops up in a preposterous but ultimately justifiable bit of casting as – without spoiling too much – Max’s dad. Keeping in mind that Garlin’s own father passed away before filming underlines these scenes with just enough pathos not to bum out an entire laughing audience. Dealin’ With Idiots is ostensibly a collection of increasingly awkward exchanges and botched social cues that stun and perplex Garlin’s level-headed character until it all amounts to a whirly madcap climax that wouldn’t be out of place in a Fellini film.
Shot in 12 days on a budget that just barely rounds up to $1 million, Dealin’ With Idiots is commendably unruffled for such a hurried production. Garlin’s limitations wind up being a constant blessing, as they prevent bits from going on longer than they should and avoid edging the film into bloated Apatow territory. It’s a lean chop from a reputably loquacious personality, and a decent way to distract oneself from wondering whether or not Curb Your Enthusiasm is returning for another season
