Some start with the story, finding the journey and, from that, deducing the parts—the characters, context and specific steps necessary to accomplish the story. Some start with the idea, letting that beginning determine everything. Some start with the characters, defining them, then placing them in a world and seeing what they do. This last approach, I think, is what Jared and Jerusha Hess take when they write their films. This is a valid approach, but the Hesses seem to have a couple of weaknesses in their application. First, they don’t take nearly enough time to make their world as interesting as the main characters; second, they sometimes seem to think that hobbies and interests are the same as personality.

In Napoleon Dynamite, this didn’t pose much of a problem because the characters were more important than either the story or the world: Napoleon, Pedro, et al might have been transplanted anywhere and the movie could have remained the same. Their actions, derived entirely from their interests, were just as isolated from the world at large as their town was. Their actions were important for the movie because the characters were their actions, not because of how the actions influenced anything else. Nacho Libre deviated from this slightly in that the effects of Nacho’s actions do bear some relevance beyond himself—beyond the focus of the movie as a whole—but I suspect this mitigation comes from Mike White’s inclusion as co-writer. From my limited exposure to White’s work, I would guess that he takes the second approach, developing the idea and running with it. Because the idea started the process, but did not determine it, Nacho Libre was able to present a world where sometimes the characters were forced to act, not in strict accordance to their solipsistic identities, but in accordance with what their surroundings, in conjunction with their past actions and their interests dictate. Thus, even when Nacho takes his brief hermitage, viewers can imagine that the world—both in the village and at large—continues to operate in his absence. In Napoleon Dynamite, this was not so much the case; their small town may as well been surrounded by Anthony’s cornfield for all it mattered; their school and the town as a whole, might as well have frozen in time whenever the major characters were otherwise engaged.

Unfortunately, Gentlemen Broncos exhibits the same problems as the Hesses’ previous films, but without Napoleon Dynamite‘s general isolation, and without Nacho Libre’s additional writer to flesh out the world, the final result is less enjoyable than either of the others. Although we, again, are presented with a host of characters primarily defined by their interests (there are other emotional motivations to create a semblance of humanity in the main characters, but the secondaries seem like they might have come out of a dark city where their fabricated memories consist entirely of hobbies), their interests, unlike the Hesses’ first feature, are here presented as having an impact in the world at large. It is one thing to accept that naïve characters separated from the world at large are able to foster and maintain ideas and activities which would likely be viewed as ridiculous by outsiders, it is another to accept that they do so and enjoy popular success with them. As it is presented, the world becomes little more than a sandbox in which the actions of these people and their fantasied lives can be imagined to take place. Anyone not a member of the main focus is left without any characteristic, often acting as nothing more than set decoration, except to agree and praise the silliness of the major players.

This is too bad, because though the Hesses don’t have the desire (or ability) to legitimately explore the type of fiction (mid-century SF) they confer to their characters as inspiration, when they do explore it in their own way, they create broadly entertaining scenarios. Perhaps this is due to the brevity and (relative to the film surrounding them) density of these segments, or perhaps it is due to the focus being less on specific character traits (i.e., hobbies/interests) and more on the inherent absurdities in the constructed ideas and worlds—letting the Broncos’ (the protagonists of the dueling stories within the story, both played enthusiastically by Sam Rockwell) be defined by how they respond to the goings on around them—influenced by the different base traits imposed by the different authors, for sure, but never determined solely by these traits. Had the filmmakers allowed for as much freedom with the movie as a whole, the final result would probably have been more enjoyable, if not better.

Further making the film makers’ deficit a pity is the general quality of acting. Despite the weaknesses of the material, no one slums it. There is no bad-movie Malkovich, Irons or Kingsley acting, which tends to be hammy and notably condescending. Instead, exaggerated characters—especially the “villain”, Ronald Chevalier, played by Jemaine Clement, and both of Rockwell’s Broncos—though hammed up, are played more with good humor and fun than boredom (which may or may not be a statement about the good in their direction). Even the subdued characters—Michael Angarano’s (probably best known for Sky High and The Forbidden Kingdom) Benjamin Purvis and his mother, played by Jennifer Coolidge—are made believable by the actors, even if their stories are not compelling. While not all home schooled kids are as withdrawn as Purvis, many are, and his innocent, shy enthusiasm does make for an agreeable character. Similarly, while not all successes are as smarmy as Chevalier, many are—and as Walbrook intoned in The Red Shoes, a great deal of pity can be felt for the one who is reduced to plagiarism, even as the act is unforgivable—and the moments of reaction which indicate some level of self-awareness do make the character more tolerable, even though he is presented as intolerable.

The story of plagiarism is not a common one in film (because, perhaps as it is often said, writing about the process of writing can result in audience boredom), and that the Hesses used it for a family comedy is admirable, even if the result is not wholly entertaining. The movie looks nice enough, though it looks like a step back from the Hesses’ previous film (likely because they actually did return to their Napoleon Dynamite cinematographer); the use of primary colors (which, in conjunction with the “quirky” characters and awkward interactions, often inspires superficial comparisons to Wes Anderson’s work) is still there, but they aren’t as prominent. Other than the solid acting and enjoyable Bronco sequences, there is not much to recommend. Except maybe the inclusion of two Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles actors (and one sequel crew member).