If you’re feeling down, if everything seems to be at its lowest, don’t worry. Life isn’t so bad. After all, we have farts! Farts are magical. They spray from our butts, they smell and make a funny sound. How wonderful is that? Why don’t we recognize this every day of our lives and use farts to discover all the other amazing things human beings are capable of. Shout to the heavens! We have farts!
If that sounds horribly juvenile and pedestrian masquerading as something profound, it is, and so is “Swiss Army Man,” an initially creative, quirky and screwball indie with a frenetic, liberating spirit that ultimately comes across as infantile and confused. First time feature directors Dan Kwan and Daniel Scheinert (billed as The Daniels) want you to celebrate farts, and cheese puffs, and boobs, and magical boners. And there’s nothing wrong with these things (technically). But when they’re used in service of a message that’s basically a rom-com, a manic pixie dream girl fantasy that treats asking out a girl like a miracle, then you have a problem.
Good or bad, “Swiss Army Man” will live in Sundance infamy as the deeply polarizing Daniel Radcliffe-farting corpse movie. In it, Paul Dano plays a man named Hank stranded on a desert island (an island that even looks something like two butt cheeks protruding from the ocean) who finds Radcliffe’s corpse, or Manny, as he comes to call him, just as he’s about to hang himself and commit suicide. Instead he’s spared, and all before the film’s title card, Hank mounts Manny and rides his farting body across the ocean like a jet ski. All the while, a chorus of percussive voices sounding like part of the most twee Arcade Fire cover band ever make the moment an inspiring anthem. Continue reading “Swiss Army Man”