Sharp-eyed readers will note the similarity of this Dutch meta-farce to last years Stranger than Fiction: both films posit a fictional character aware of the writer whos creating (and destroying) his life. But while Waiter is a great deal more sour and bilious, its not, alas, more entertaining.
Director Alex van Warmerdam assays the role of Edgar, a hapless 50-ish waiter whose life is a mess of sick wives, unhappy mistresses, criminal neighbours and obnoxious customers. So unhappy is he with the situation that he takes up his problems with the hack whos cooking them up, only to be blown off, then capriciously rewritten to the annoyance of the writers long-suffering girlfriend.
For the most part, this is the comedy of mortification, with various terrible things happening to Edgar for reasons of pure viciousness. But none of the situations are clever enough to have any bite, and one feels more ill towards the real writer of the movie than the character who stands in for him. The post-modern gimmick isnt used for any discernible purpose; its just an excuse to drag out the torment of a hapless sucker we dont particularly like in the service of God knows what. By the end, youre thoroughly alienated by the tone and the laziness with which its employed.
Stranger than Fiction was pretty thin itself, but it was at least invested in its characters and had a point (however feeble) to give it a modicum of purpose. But you cant imagine what led Warmerdam to go through the motions of making something in which he clearly had zero interest. Its a make-work project without a shred of wit or an ounce of heart, and you mostly resent it until it stops 98 minutes later.
(Seville)Director Alex van Warmerdam assays the role of Edgar, a hapless 50-ish waiter whose life is a mess of sick wives, unhappy mistresses, criminal neighbours and obnoxious customers. So unhappy is he with the situation that he takes up his problems with the hack whos cooking them up, only to be blown off, then capriciously rewritten to the annoyance of the writers long-suffering girlfriend.
For the most part, this is the comedy of mortification, with various terrible things happening to Edgar for reasons of pure viciousness. But none of the situations are clever enough to have any bite, and one feels more ill towards the real writer of the movie than the character who stands in for him. The post-modern gimmick isnt used for any discernible purpose; its just an excuse to drag out the torment of a hapless sucker we dont particularly like in the service of God knows what. By the end, youre thoroughly alienated by the tone and the laziness with which its employed.
Stranger than Fiction was pretty thin itself, but it was at least invested in its characters and had a point (however feeble) to give it a modicum of purpose. But you cant imagine what led Warmerdam to go through the motions of making something in which he clearly had zero interest. Its a make-work project without a shred of wit or an ounce of heart, and you mostly resent it until it stops 98 minutes later.
