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Starring Kevin Spacey, Frank Whalley. I am a self-recognized dark, twisted individual. When filmmakers like Jim Wilson, who directed Head Above Water, John Dahl, who directed The Last Seduction, and George Huang, who both wrote and directed Swimming with Sharks, create pompous, egomaniacal characters that spew forth venom on those around them, or who are suffering through such fantastically far-fetched negatives--a man accidentally married another man--I can't help but laughing. On the off chance that I see this same occurrence on an afternoon showing of Jerry Springer while in an autobody repair shop waiting room, I feel sickened. I want those Springer guests who have been dating transsexual, child molesters for the last six years to crawl back into their holes and trailers and shut the hell up. However, should this material be fictional, and made relevant to the plot of a solidly written script then, and only then, am I truly amused. This was the case with Swimming with Sharks. This is the story of a studio executive's assistant, played by Frank Whalley, with a boss from hell. The boss from hell is portrayed by Kevin Spacey, who delivers a maliciously good performance. Huang's script follows Whalley's first year in Hollywood, working as assistant to the vice-president of production at a major, fictional film studio. I'm hoping, for both the sake of Hollywood's already somewhat tarnished image and those poor assistants out there, that Huang's script, which was based off of his own experiences as an assistant in Hollywood, is hyperbolic to some degree. After screening The Player and Living in Oblivion, two other recent entries into the disillusioning Hollywood genre, I can't say that I was particularly impressed with what was going on behind-the-scenes in Lala-land. However, combined with the events taking place in Swimming with Sharks, dammit, I'm scared. The comedy in this film comes with Spacey's new and interesting ways of tormenting, screaming, and harassing Whalley. The pinnacle of this verbal haranguement came as Spacey, in a fit of controlled rage, explains that his pencils, paper clips, and notepads are more important to the studio than is Whalley. Spacey yells that his organizer stays late at the office and doesn't complain, and that Whalley should follow that example. Spacey, with Nicolas Cage, is one of Hollywood's most versatile actors, easily transforming from a cripple in The Usual Suspects, to a swaggering detective in L.A. Confidential, to his sleazebag, vice president of production, Buddy Ackerman, in Swimming with Sharks. If there is a downside to this film, it comes with the--how shall I put this nicely--totally implausible ending. The story in Swimming with Sharks is told through a series of flashbacks, as Whalley has tied Spacey to a chair, and is physically abusing him, giving him papercuts with envelopes and the like. I was figuring on some sort of trick ending, in a society made out to be as sick as this, tying up your boss and assaulting him seemed like it could only elicit a career improvement, but what happened is far-fetched at best. It's possible that Huang intended the ending to be viewed as some sort of Whalley's coming-of-age, but in retrospect, the climax served only to bridge the gap from humorous hyperbole to completely over the top action. As a whole though, Swimming with Sharks gives a stunning portrayal of life at a Hollywood studio, with a sharper wit, and bite than either Living with Oblivion or The Player. And best of all, while watching this movie, you don't have to worry about these people attacking each other with folding chairs.
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