Swiss Army Man

If you’re feeling down, if everything seems to be at its lowest, don’t worry. Life isn’t so bad. After all, we have farts! Farts are magical. They spray from our butts, they smell and make a funny sound. How wonderful is that? Why don’t we recognize this every day of our lives and use farts to discover all the other amazing things human beings are capable of. Shout to the heavens! We have farts!

If that sounds horribly juvenile and pedestrian masquerading as something profound, it is, and so is “Swiss Army Man,” an initially creative, quirky and screwball indie with a frenetic, liberating spirit that ultimately comes across as infantile and confused. First time feature directors Dan Kwan and Daniel Scheinert (billed as The Daniels) want you to celebrate farts, and cheese puffs, and boobs, and magical boners. And there’s nothing wrong with these things (technically). But when they’re used in service of a message that’s basically a rom-com, a manic pixie dream girl fantasy that treats asking out a girl like a miracle, then you have a problem.

Good or bad, “Swiss Army Man” will live in Sundance infamy as the deeply polarizing Daniel Radcliffe-farting corpse movie. In it, Paul Dano plays a man named Hank stranded on a desert island (an island that even looks something like two butt cheeks protruding from the ocean) who finds Radcliffe’s corpse, or Manny, as he comes to call him, just as he’s about to hang himself and commit suicide. Instead he’s spared, and all before the film’s title card, Hank mounts Manny and rides his farting body across the ocean like a jet ski. All the while, a chorus of percussive voices sounding like part of the most twee Arcade Fire cover band ever make the moment an inspiring anthem.

The Daniels have a dazzling mastery of this inspirational, erratic style that has often, disparagingly, come to define the Sundance Movie. Light shimmers in from everywhere, and rapid jump cuts and remixed frames make everything absolutely gleeful and fancy-free. For a while it’s so exciting and unexpected that even the worst prudes will embrace the film’s smut, like how Manny spits up a geyser of water for Hank to drink, or when his erection points the way to civilization.

Along their journey home, Manny starts to become more sentient, behaving like a child as he asks more and more blunt, awkward questions about what it means to be alive. But their conversation inevitably, and all too quickly, turns low brow. Hank reads Manny “Everybody Poops” and explains why we masturbate. Then Hank tries to explain love by showing Manny a picture of Sarah (Mary Elizabeth Winstead), a cute girl he saw on the bus but never spoke to. And in the mean time the farts keep coming and Hank still uses Manny like a magical tool as though everything being said is a profound truth.

But is this what The Daniels think life is all about? Do they consider this love? All this frivolity and lunacy only masks the film’s simplicity, and it all implodes when the film’s crass concept starts breaking its own rules (and wind) and falling apart in its third act. “Swiss Army Man’s” strange ending borders on bizarre “Fight Club” territory and leaves more questions than it answers.

Dano and Radcliffe however are actually fairly brilliant. Dano has the beaten down look as well as the hopeful glint in his eye. He gives himself fully to this performance and never winks at how silly it all seems. And probably no one has played a corpse better than Radcliffe, who unblinkingly monotones and limps his way through the entire movie and yet manages to emote a full range of thought and emotion. It’s less robotic and simply without life, but he still gives off a bounty of energy in the part.

Maybe Charlie Kaufman could make it seem like farts contain the whole gamut of human existence, but The Daniels need to mature somewhat before their schlocky, smutty taste can actually stand for something greater.

2 stars