Release Date: February 27, 2009

(out of 4)

Loathsome as it may sound, some people - like the title character "Bob Funk" - exist to make unending complaints to everybody in the room, and if irked, against everybody in the room. Bob is one of those blowhard characters – the kind you find in offbeat independent films – who believes everything he does is right, believes if nobody else has manners than why should he, and believes he is the most interesting storyteller in the room disregard the status of his contemporaries. Even as a salesman he is the messenger of unhappiness.

Many versions of this movie could have been made that would have revolted the audience but somehow the uncompromising and consummate focus (Craig Carlisle is the writer-director) to show Bob (Michael Leydon Campbell) as a hellbent jerk gives this movie its durability – we can’t keep our eyes off this cretin and perhaps can’t wait what offensive gesture he’ll make next. At the same time we’re convinced that he’s able to trap people inside his little world. It’s better to listen to Bob for a few fleeting minutes than to prompt his bad side.

Bob is vice president of sales at an Asian-style bed and mattress emporium who takes upon with zeal that he has the highest superiority over everybody else. Within no time, Bob sexually harasses a new employee, the tolerant and serene Ms. Thorne (Rachel Leigh Cook), who is everything delicate but her name, and is abruptly fired by his own mother (Grace Zabriskie). Of course, Bob is one of those guys who extols his achievements to everybody but doesn’t see that he’s been riding on the wings of his own mother his entire life. He has shammed the part of shrewd business professional (he’s really just a salesman!) even though he is a completely hollow nothing with no real experience to justify his self-appointed supremacy.

When Bob is offered a second probationary chance from his mother to return to the office to a demoted position and with promise to attend psychotherapy, he accepts while simultaneously lashing out ungratefully. The therapy sessions are not sugar-coated pleas for Bob to be understood or felt (his character begins with no soft edges), rather he badgers his therapist’s credibility. In the meantime, Bob’s mother goes on vacation to Thailand leaving Bob under the supervision of Ms. Thorne. He ceases his come-ons but instead harangues her on teasing his turtle-shy brother (Eddie Jemison), another one of mom’s employees. Bob comes into work with constant hangovers and screws up his office duties that result in city fines. How about another demotion, Bob? Although Bob’s mother has more than fairly offered second chances, she nevertheless knows how to teach a lesson.

Only within a film this hysterically cruel can someone like Bob sink as low as one employee can possibly go in terms of demotion, and the jokes mercilessly wrench Bob’s pathetic demoralization. This steers the script into turning Bob into a redemptive hero who cleans up in the second half, and while the arc is predictable, the angry grouch in Bob doesn’t so neatly disappear. If the grouch did disappear, the satire would go dead. Michael Leydon Campbell, who plays Bob, isn’t the most electrifying actor (yet his short fuse barbs are inspired), but the character of Bob Funk itself is the kind of vainglorious jerk that Kevin Spacey used to play in independent film before he went A-list.

The anecdote of the film to offset its toxic jibes is the character of Ms. Thorne who also turns out to be Bob’s healer (Bob’s psychotherapist runs a close second). Rachel Leigh Cook’s naturally disarming bashfulness turns an otherwise improbable character into something real. Ms. Thorne’s authentic sweetness and freshness makes Bob dial down and behave halfway human. Bob won’t entirely drop the jerk factor with everybody, but with Ms. Thorne he gladly learns to play polite. And that’s perhaps the first time he has ever heeded to someone in a platonic relationship. That’s the film’s redeeming vitality. Co-stars Stephen Root as an office space drone and Amy Ryan as a wanton barfly.

The film will be play in select cities only in Los Angeles, New York, Chicago, Portland and Dallas.