Here's an idea! How about we have an emotionally isolated male protagonist. And then we give him a slightly emotional female sidekick who helps him come out of that isolation! And then, we pair him up with a woman who appears to be like him, and they form a relationship. And finally, between these two people, he changes. And then everybody feels good!
“Brilliant! Nobody's ever done that before!”
Abstracts:
- The idea of Ryan Bingham is really really interesting. However, he's only interesting in as much as he's following his own rules. The fundamental problem with the effectiveness of the movie is that it doesn't commit to being either a Character Study or a Drama—it lacks the intensity and focus of the former, and it lacks the structural emphasis and tightness of the latter. I myself would go with the latter.
Show more of Ryan doing his job. Ryan is someone who is emotionally uninteresting—it's why we don't really respond or care when he finds himself betrayed, as it's a betrayal to us as we've been led to believe he wouldn't allow something like this to happen to himself—and that's why the movie is largely emotionally uncompelling. He's only compelling when he's doing what he's good at—people always like seeing someone do something well. In this regard, he's similar to a villain (in that he does something seen as evil, but does it in such a slick and fascinating way that we implicitly forgive him). However, Ryan ultimately isn't that bright; what he has is a charm and charisma that he's born with, and not a totally intellectual strength: he only understands people (emotionally) to the extent that he needs to be better at his job. That's why he can manipulate J.K. Simmon's character, but doesn't apply it to his own life, i.e. living with that kind of empathy; he's shallow.
But if the protagonist isn't the emotional center, who fills the role? Though it's slightly a cliché of emotional roles, the two women Ryan encounters would be it: The youthful, slightly pretentious idealist, and the opportunistic, femme-conqueror, who attempts a revision of her emotional life.
Anna Kendrick's character is said idealist. Her character would remain largely unchanged. However, unlike her escape to what might be “larger, better things” than killing employment for a living, something more ironic and in a sense devastating should happen to her: she doesn't get that better job. Because the mention of other would-be employer is like an emotional Chekovian gun than it is anything else, the decision on employment that resolves her arc could go either way. It would be brutal—especially to someone who is fundamentally soft, yet attempts to hide it behind the veneer of prepared, adult presence—but that's the point: Ryan is who he is so that what happens to her would never happen to him.
Vera Farmiga's character would undergo more significant revision: Instead of hiding a family and being the tantalizing but ultimately false foil for Ryan, she should be like a younger Ryan: she's far enough in with her/Ryan's system that she's living it, but not so far gone that all scales have fallen from her eyes. She's attracted to Ryan because she sees a more advanced (more solipsistic, in a way) version of herself in him. But she's not so divorced from her feelings that she can rationalize ignoring them, and she ultimately gives into Ryan, and attempts to make it something more, only to find out that he's a more consistent person that she isn't. It's almost a throwaway moment when Ryan finds out the truth about Farmiga's character in the original, but in the revision it would be deeper: We're so wonderfully charmed by how good Clooney is as Ryan Bingham, but we also genuinely feel for Vera Farmiga's character in that conversation where they both attempt to rectify who they are to each other. The stronger Irony would be to have her life rocked and shaken—when she finally finds herself and realizes why Ryan is why he is, and only then becomes another one of him.
This movie is not a comedy. Lots of the so-called “comedy” gags aren't funny, mostly because of the cliché and smugness. Denby argues that Reitman is able to achieve a difficult thing in bringing a light touch to a darker subject. But the end result we have is nothing that tells us something new about the subject itself (the loss of a job—all we get are a series of interview, but no catharsis; no meaning, as we're not shown the deeper effects that it has on these people), and a “touch” that isn't that pleasant on sensation. The real humor in the movie is/would be in seeing Anna Kendrick's character truly learn about how the real world works (and how no Ivy Leage Valedictorianship can ever prepare someone for the deeper, harsher realities of it)—indeed that's where the movies best humor lies: “...apply themselves academically.” “... Go fuck yourself!”. Such a thing dovetails with another component to the humor of the picture and that is showing that Ryan's cynicism and detachment is appropriate: A smaller (but foreshadowing) moment of when her boyfriend leaves her: Ryan told her it would happen, and she didn't listen (i.e. the pre-breakup revelation conversation happens before the breakup really happens). Again, we're compelled by Ryan's consistency and wisdom, but we do feel bad for this woman even though she's made a sap.
To make Ryan this stoic, this unrelenting might almost be unhuman. While the emphasis on the sentimental subplot of his sister's wedding would be diminished, Ryan would still be the person to talk the fiancee into going through with it. It would be the ultimate tribute to his understanding the nature of things and keeping them on an even keel. When he tells his older sister the nature of his pep-talks, he says it with assurance, instead of with sarcasm : “I teach people to avoid commitment.” And after he's able to convince the reluctant fiancee, the older sister asked him how: “I lied.” It's the moment we really find out that this man is that villain, but a truer, more consistent, and almost devilish personality: we almost don't like him because of what he does and who he is, but we're so enthralled with/by him and are too fascinated to be angry with him.
The movie's ending would also require re-tooling. As mentioned it would have to be structurally tightened. But to what end? The strongest way for the movie to conclude (as I see it), would be for Ryan's boss to ultimately opt for the remote firing system. The Irony is several: despite Anna Kendrick's character realizing that she didn't fully understand what she was doing in proposing such a system; Ryan, sharp as he is, finds himself outmoded, and the fire-er would become the fired.
Specifics
Vera Farmiga isn't able to match Clooney. She's a great presence when given the right character (The Depahtid), but I think she's ultimately miscast to stand with the strength of Clooney's character: she doesn't carry the weight of consequence like she does. Someone closer to Catherine Zeta-Jones would be a better match (as the kind of character I envision is closer to the type from the Coens' Intolerable Cruelty), but even still, she's a harder sell. I complain about the casting, but am hard pressed to think of another actress to take her place; it speaks of a more inherent problem with Hollywood: early middle-aged to late middle-aged women who aren't Meryl Streep. There are plenty of interesting women (both characters and presences), but Hollywood doesn't want them.
More firings; more personal/in-flight social connections; more cynicism. All of them better serve Ryan to show him being his charming self, and the first and third because they also provide Anna Kendrick's character to prove or disprove her own naivete (and therefore create humor).
Jason Bateman is a wonderful personality, but I think he's slightly miscast. I don't buy him as a the superior to Clooney, both because of age, but also because of his presence. Bateman is a little soft, a little nice, and a little passive. I envision the boss of Ryan Bingham a man who knows how to delegate and shape a sort of rawness about Bingham himself; his boss knows who Bingham really is (even if Bingham himself doesn't), and knows how to exploit this to its fullest extent to the firings. His boss would be the one to assign Natalie to learn the ropes, and would assign Bingham to show them to her.
The cardboard couple is a cute idea, but a little saccharine. It borders on infuriating when it causes that most hated of waterside cliches to appear: when he falls in. CUT IT.
Good Lord that extended dance/party sequence is annoying. It happens for no good reason, and has no serious consequence, and nothing within it is strong enough to justify including it. What the hell is it doing there?
More plane-related photography. It's a shame most of the movie's best composition and construction is within the original teaser trailer (linked here), and the rest of the movie feels—to an extent—like visual fill. It only feels like fill inasmuch as it doesn't feel like it's unified by a full visual style, despite it being very pretty and intentional; they're smooth, colorful pieces of silk string, but none of them have been tied together.
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