The Finch at the Feeder

Here's the preface to this post: I adore Ricky Gervais. I'm a huge fan of The Office and of Extras, and his stand-up is some of the best I've ever seen. I laugh like a moron watching this guy. Ghost World suffered from so-so writing, but Gervais' performance made me glad I watched it.


The Invention of Lying is Gervais' cinematic directorial debut. I wanted it to be a lot of things, but here's what it was (pseudo-spoilers to follow):

First 25 minutes or so: People making fun of Gervais with straight faces because, you see, they can't lie. There is also a hilarious Coke commercial.

Next 30 minutes or so: Gervais learns to lie, tricks people into doing stuff. Cue the unnecessary celebrity cameos.

Next 35 minutes or so: Gervais pokes easy fun at the most elementary of religious principles.

Final 10 minutes: Abrupt, cheesy ending. Credits.


Now you say, Andrew, you can't possibly sum up the whole movie that quickly, dismissing an entire work with just a few quips. You cannot oversimplify! Oh, but dear reader, I can. Because Gervais and Matthew Robinson, who co-wrote, did exactly that. They did it to their premise, they did it to Christianity, and they did it to their audience.

Gervais and Robinson committed the great sin of underestimating their viewers. Gervais offering up a one-note joke of a movie like this is the cinematic equivalent of buying your best girl gas station flowers for Valentine's Day. The awkwardly-placed cameos by all my favorite actors (Hoffman, Norton, Fey, Bateman, Bill from Freaks and Geeks) only made it worse. You know when a baby is crying and screaming, so you grab the closest toy, shake it in front of them and say, in your best high-pitched voice: look at the elephant! Look at this elephant! ?

It felt like that. And it pissed me of as much now as it did back then. Man, did I hate that. I'd poop down my own leg for revenge every time.



Anyway. I think the part that bothered me most, that pushed me over the ledge of annoyed and into the sea of offended was the film's treatment of Western religion. I'm no enemy of religious satire or parody, honest. Gervais is a proud atheist, and I get that. I respect it. But if you're going to point and laugh at something for half a movie, at least acknowledge some of its depth and complexity.

See, the Bible is pretty problematic. It provides an unlimited wealth of material for doubters, comedians and stoned agnostics to debate, denigrate, and disrespect. When you go further than that, and start delving into church dogma, religious zealots, and DC Talk's early stuff, even steadfast believers have to admit that Christianity can be pretty damn ridiculous.

Instead, the film's laugh factor hinges on this idea: that a "man in the sky" controls everything, that if you do 3 bad things you go to a bad place, but if you are good you go to a good place and get a mansion. Oh, and Gervais grows a beard so that he kinda looks like chubby Jesus. This alone seems to be the extent of the writers' understanding of religion.

Most religious people I know (even the close-minded jerks) moved past that kind of thinking when they were around five. If you're committed to lampooning an entire system of belief, at least give credit where credit is due. If you believe that all of religion is a lie told by one hapless idiot, at least admit that it's a terribly complex lie, one that means a great deal to a great many people. Christianity--true Christianity--is not a religion for the immature or the simple. It is actually quite challenging. And Gervais makes it look like a collection of dunces.

When people attack Christians this way, they remind me of Glenn Beck. And of Rush Limbaugh. And of all the dopes they hate because they speak out against something that they do not understand.


Also, and finally: this movie had some very clever moments, but it should have been much funnier. The premise had tons of possibility, Gervais was at the helm, and apparently every great actor currently working wanted in on it. Instead, what we got is something very few of us would want to pay for: an 18.5 million dollar anti-Christian statement. One which, instead of making an argument or delivering good comedy, muddled in the middle of the two, winking and nudging all the way to the lukewarm end.