The Invention of Lying (2009)
The Invention of Lying read beautifully on the page, an appealingly modest tribute to the bullshit and delusion we need to get through each casual defeat; on the screen, however, the picture is an indifferent botch. Ricky Gervais’ comedy always threatens to tumble into self-absorption, self-loathing, and condescending faux-modesty, but his timing, and ironic compassion (and the fact that he’s pretty damn funny) usually redeem it. The Invention of Lying, which Gervais co-wrote and co-directed in addition to headlining, is a tribute though, a big gimmick designed to tell that world that it really loves Ricky beneath his portly frame and snub nose, both of which are repeated punchlines. Invention of Lying is basically the comedian’s Barbara Streisand movie.
The premise, that no lying, humoring, fiction, or pretense of any form exist, is neat but quickly becomes tedious and flawed as the “truth” of this picture is a predictable stand-up comic’s truth: that everyone will always say the worst thing imaginable (as bad as PG-13 will allow that is). The Invention of Lying can be broken down into two or three alternating scenes: a good looking person dwarfs Ricky, a bad looking person tells Ricky he wants to die, two good looking people revel in their pleasure of being good looking. The truth is that Gervais clearly agrees that bad looking people are always miserable and less socially adept than good looking people, and he is celebrating himself as having crossed over into the Promised Land with his fame and considerable talent. The party is accented with a number of celebrity cameos and guest performances that have little to do with the picture: Philip Seymour Hoffman, Edward Norton, Tina Fey, Rob Lowe, etc. (A few of these bits are vivid – Hoffman gives a fuller impression of pain in ten seconds than Gervais does in 100 minutes, and Jonah Hill goes farther with his melancholia than you’d expect.)
It has a few nice little quips, but the cast is so (touchingly) in awe of Gervais that nothing is at stake; and nothing means much of anything. The picture isn’t badly directed, it isn’t directed at all – ugly, no pace, no shape, no rhythm. The Invention of Lying would be a forgettable vanity project if it didn’t turn into an unoriginal religion parody in its last third. As an agnostic, I’m sympathetic to the picture’s aim, but Gervais doesn’t quite land the one scene that tries to empathize with our need for pretend governing beliefs (as an illusion of structure in the midst of death); instead its just hip distance. For Gervais in movies, see the vastly superior, sadly underrated Ghost Town.
