Clooney and 'Goats': The Only Two Worth Watching

'The Men Who Stare at Goats'

Review: 3/5

It's a bit of a disappointment to label 'The Men Who Stare at Goats' a mediocre outing for director Grant Heslov. The trailers looked promising, the story wildly original, the cast impeccable, so what happened? Subjectively, here are a few theories: 1. the voice-over narration robs the film of its absurdity and relies on such a conventional plot device to further the unusually thin narrative, 2. the script could have used a few revisions - 'Goats' plays like a cliffs-notes version of a film that would have benefited from less montage and narration, and more attention to the bizarre central characters, and 3. the film was rushed into production mainly due to its innovative, satirical interpretation of the contemporary Iraq war. All this aside, the film is enjoyable as it stands, and boasts a hilariously compelling performance from George Clooney.

The film documents 'Daily Telegraph' reporter Bob Wilton (Ewan McGregor) and his search to find a gripping story in Iraq to prove to his ex-wife that he's worth being with. By kismet, he meets Lyn Cassidy (George Clooney) who he persuades into allowing him on a very, very secret mission: to locate psychic-spy founder of the New Earth Army, Bill Django (Jeff Bridges). What is the New Earth Army? What are psychic spies? Cassidy lets Wilton in on this information, and the film plays intermittently by Cassidy's memories, which are narrated by Wilton, and are far, far too short. The comedy never elevates beyond its one-joke premise. Good thing for the filmmakers: that one joke is hilarious (look for a defining scene involving a manipulated Cassidy, and a harmless goat).

Coated in thin yellows, tans, and oranges 'Goats' clearly aims to be lighthearted fare, which, at its core, it's not. This is an unfortunately gentle comedy masquerading as an acerbic social satire - an exceedingly conflicting hybrid that lacks a finite identity. It plays less on the execution of the absurd, and more on the minimal observation of the ridiculous. Comedic timing is replaced with an air of misplaced quandary - jokes fall flat. Good thing Clooney can win a staring contest.