“You know that guy who can get any girl? I’m him. On crack.” - This is Nick Naylor. Nick speaks on behalf of cigarette lobby Big Tobacco. Nick publicises the benefits of an industry which kills 10 times more people in a year than there were British casualties in World War Two. And Nick is very, very good at what he does.
This is one of those films that makes you sit up and pay attention right away. Debutante director Jason “my dad made Ghostbusters” Reitman confidently employs voiceover, cut-aways and visual demonstration to make you appreciate both the gravity of Nick’s position and the laughs to be mined from the absurdity of our “hero” being, as he and his counterparts from the alcohol and firearms industries have dubbed themselves, a Merchant Of Death.
Reitman’s task is a tricky one, but like his protagonist, he tackles it head-on with great enthusiasm. And putting a positive spin on cancer is not the easiest of tasks when a Vermont Senator (Macy) is running a campaign to have “POISON” stickers slapped on every cigarette packet sold. Even harder when trying to counterbalance this distinctly amoral career with being a good father to a teenage son (Bright).
Aaron Eckhart is on-screen almost constantly, playing a man who happily defends an industry responsible for 1,200 American deaths a day, and yet has the audience on his side from the word go with his humour and charm. His carrying the film so capably is testament to both his underrated ability, and the cleverly-adapted screenplay by Reitman. Consistently funny throughout, the wordplay dazzles enough to gloss over the film’s second biggest failing (we’ll get to number one, don’t worry) – it seems to have so many targets (lobbyists, rednecks, self-righteous politicians, you name it) that at no point is there enough direction for there to be real bite, and as satire goes, bite counts for a lot.
That grumble out of the way, let’s get to the good stuff. The casting is (almost) universally excellent. Eckhart aside, there’s particularly good support work from Maria Bello as Naylor’s counterpart in the alcohol industry, Macy is enjoyably slimy, Bright continues his case for title of “least annoying child actor working today” and Robert Duvall is Robert Duvall. Spiderman’s boss, JK Simmons, is entertaining in a 2-D role, as are the underused Rob Lowe and Adam Brody, not exactly stretching themselves but raising smiles all round. And then there’s Katie Holmes.
As a journalist stretching the boundaries of decency for a good story, Holmes is painfully out of her depth. Any hope that the character might rise above predictable cliché is quickly swept aside and the film visibly dips whenever she appears; not dissimilar, in that respect, to Batman Begins, another film groaning with quality thesps all slightly bewildered by her presence on the same set.
So, Holmes sucks, how unexpected. Also unsurprising is Reitman’s obvious influences; as a second-generation director making his mark, his heart is on his sleeve; the Fight Club-lite freeze-frames and voiceover, the Kevin Smith verbal barbs, Nick’s character arc. But to his credit, he rises above to deliver a fine film, never boring, frequently funny, occasionally hilarious, and endlessly, enormously quotable. Unfortunately these things will stay with you far longer than any satirical element; it’s highly unlikely you’ll be rocked by any urge to campaign against any of the film’s intended targets. Thank You for Smoking is a clever film, a great comedy, but some way short of what it aspires to be. Bloody good fun though.