Let’s get one thing straight: Rainn Wilson, the lanky, bespectacled star of NBC’s The Office, doesn’t worry about typecasting.
A self-described “über-geek” who grew up cheering on superheroes like the Green Lantern before turning his attention almost exclusively to science fiction, Wilson, 45, says he enjoys playing misfits like Dwight Schrute, the uptight Office drone – or, as Wilson puts it, “fascist nerd” – who rambles on endlessly about his beet farm and boasts exhaustively about his skills as a karate master and surveillance expert.
The Adjustment Bureau – the new Philip K. Dick-inspired thriller about an otherworldly crew of mystery men who mean to ensure that God’s master plan unfolds just as intended – brought at least one of its stars to tears. And no, it wasn’t Matt Damon, who absorbs a surprise shot to the gut from his on-screen love interest, played by Emily Blunt.
It was Blunt herself, the London-born star of The Devil Wears Prada (2006) and last year’s The Young Victoria, whose six-day-a-week training in New York with Swan Pouffer, artistic director of the Cedar Lake Contemporary Ballet, left her battered and emotionally bruised.
Brothers Peter and Bobby Farrelly realize that a Hall Pass – a mutually accepted break from the vows of monogamous marriage – might have disastrous results in real life.
But as the basis for their new comedy, starring Owen Wilson and Jason Sudeikis as suburban husbands with wandering eyes but a laughable lack of game, it seemed originally to be just another boys-night-out frolic.
Then, as they do with all their movies (including Kingpin and There’s Something About Mary), they showed a preliminary script to their wives. They are thankful they did.
I have not yet seen Wall Street 2, Oliver Stone’s forthcoming sequel to the 1987 drama that introduced us to Michael Douglas’ Gordon Gekko, the reptilian stock-market overlord who coined the unofficial ’80s motto, “Greed is good.” But I cannot imagine a more fitting coda to Gekko’s saga than Brian Koppelman’s story of a down-on-his-luck car dealer nosediving to the nadir of a midlife crisis.