The Little Film That Could

"Mormon films" are a hot new trend, particularly in Utah where they get scooped up by the faithful like green lime jello laced with carrot shreds. Napoleon Dynamite is a film written and shot by Jared and Jerusha Hess, a married couple who graduated from the film school at Brigham Young University. It is set in predominantly-Mormon Preston, Idaho.

That said, you'd expect this to be a film strewn with missionaries, prayer, a bishop or two, some reference to the Book of Mormon and perhaps a sermon about faith. At the very least, it ought to be so ooey-gooey warm and sweet it should contain a warning for diabetics. Cue the strings. Cue the prophet. Cue the love.

Think again.

There isn't a single Mormon reference in the whole film. It's PG rating is for words like freaking, fricking, frigging and the use of "gawwwwwwd" as an interjection. There's no sex, no gore and no violence worth getting upset about, unless you're a vegetarian. PETA might not like what the Hess's consider funny, but this film is as clean as it gets while maintaining a point of view set somewhere between the mind of Stanley Kubrick and Mad Magazine.

In short, it's the antithesis of American Pie.

Napoleon Dynamite, the character, is a pencil-neck high-school geek who shuffles about with a grimace and a stare, behind those windshield sized glasses, that could make him the next generation's Unabomber. He's a mess, a kinky-headed geek with a trigger-finger temper, a tendency toward isolation and a heavy sigh that screams "quiet desperation." I've met this guy. You've met this guy. Every school has at least one, and so does every prison.

The cool thing about Napoleon Dynamite is that it treats this type with kid gloves, but doesn't bring a glass of milk. Woody Allen was the uber-nebbish, popular in the "we can't get anything right" world of the 70s. In the last generation, the torch has passed to Jason Biggs, who has made a career out of being the go-to guy when you need someone who feels socially awkward. Biggs does for one generation what Ben Stiller is doing for their older siblings: giving us someone to feel sorry for because, deep down inside, that's us.

Napoleon Dynamite is the first film about a geek that avoids either extreme. Hollywood's formula for nerds and geeks has them either as comic relief (usually harmless comic relief) or as good-looking people cast as misfits (Biggs doesn't look like a guy who can't get a date on a Saturday night). Rarely does a nerd or geek get top billing unless he or she is really a diamond in the rough, someone who can break free by the final reel and become Cinderella (or Cinderfella). We've seen it all before.

Napoleon, on the other hand, is a guy who isn't going to ever be normal. What's more, this guy doesn't want to be Jason Biggs, which is to say, he doesn't want in out of the rain of social leperdom. He's perfectly happy "out there" in la-la land where he's free to be a "loser" as long as it lets him do "whatever I fell like, gaaaaaaaad!"

Doing whatever he feels like includes: dropping action figures out the back window of a school bus, so he can pull them behind (with fishing line) and watch them tumble; making pictures of "ligers" (lion-tiger hybrids); telling off door-to-door sales persons ("I made an infinity of those at scout camp!"); murdering a tether ball with extreme satisfaction; and stuffing his pockets with other people's tater tots so he can "be prepared."

In short, Napoleon is the person we were before adolescence screwed us up, that blissful sixth-grader who didn't yet realize the waters were going to get deeper, and choppier. He's the arrested pre-adolescent, who stays that way all through high school because, after all, it just feels better. Consider the alternative.

There's a certain thrill that going back in time, to the cruelties and uncertainties of high school, and watching it from the point of view of someone too obtuse to care. Most of us would have liked to have been captain of the football team, prom queen or something that made other rivals "ooh and ah." Napoleon presents the alternative, the high schooler so off in left field he can go through the worst moments of panic and chaos half-asleep.

Some critics have written off the story as a one-joke film. Others have complained that Napoleon is just a portrait of a geek. One nationally-prominent critic took objection with the tone of the film, and with Napoleon's lack of an urgent desire to, well, be Jason Biggs.

These people just don't get it.

There's more going on in Napoleon Dynamite than meets the eye, which is why this film isn't just another "Mormon film." It isn't even just another "coming of age story." This film goes where American Pie never went, and in ways it could never have dreamed.

One of the great themes in Napoleon Dynamite is the ease with which you can write someone off, until you learn what Paul Harvey called "the rest of the story." Everybody has a private world, a hidden story or set of "skills" that gives them a whole new dimension. Ironically, we don't begin to learn that about Napoleon Dynamite until he learns it about his own grandmother.

Grandma (Sandy Martin) is the matriarch of the Dynamite household, where Napoleon lives with his thirty-two-year-old brother, Kip. Both Kip and Granmda have weirdness written all over them, which is something we've come to expect from garden variety weirdoes. Weird people, we know from experience, do come in packs, clans and bunches. Running off to go play with the boys' aunt, she fends off whiny cries of, "What will we do without you?" with her version of tough love: "Jeez, Kip, make yourself a danged quesqaDILLA!!!"

Kip is Napoleon's older brother, a guy so wimpy and effeminate we immediately assume he's gay. Kip spends hours at home "chatting with babes" - though we have to wonder what gender those "babes" come in. He's a balding toothpick with no build, no tan, his own pair of windshield-sized glasses, and the belief that he has a future as a cage fighter.

Riiiiiiight.

Looking at these two, it's not hard to see why Napoleon is so weird. Yet these are but two of the many weird characters in Napoleon Dynamite. It's easy to assume their exaggerated goofiness is a cheap attempt at humor.

It isn't.

The characters in this film - all of them, in fact - are goofy and weird because that's how Napoleon sees the world. Rather than resorting to the heavy hand of voice-over narration (which is really getting out of control today) Napoleon Dynamite posits its point of view somewhere between the twistedness of a Mad Magazine parody (the way Anchorman did this summer) and the cruel objectivity of Stanley Kubrick (whose characters, once defined, were like wind-up toys who could put out each other's eyes by simply being "them").

In directing this film, Jared Hess shoots it in master shots with wide angles. That sometimes gives it a stagey feel, which takes patience to watch after a decade of Spielberg-meets-MTV close-up, eye-tracking, blender shots. Doing so gives us the "objectivity" of a seven-eleven security camera, without the artificial, cinema verite herky-jerky handheld camcorder style. Hess locks the camera down and goes for performance and composition. He doesn't even give us the crutch of mood music, except in short, intentional bursts, such as the film's climax, in-scene music and the end credits. Everywhere else, the actors are on their own. The performances must speak for themselves.

But I'm getting ahead of myself.

The central point of this film, that we really don't know these people we judge, is first hammered home when Grandma gets injured in a dune-riding accident. Napoleon learns this from his lecherous Uncle Rico (Jon Gries), who spills the news while moving in, to watch the boys and eat Grandma's steak. What was Grandma doing? She was on a date. Napoleon chokes on the revelation, leading Rico to utter the classic line: "It looks like there are a lot of things you don't know about your grandma."

Grandma's accident is the first of a series of chess openings that systematically intersect as each moves its way toward an eventual checkmate. The dominoes are falling, but you don't see how interconnected they are unless you look carefully. Ironically, that's the point. All too often, we are caught in a world of new experiences that are underappreciated by snapshot judgments, context ignorance and a competitive ruthlessness based on the fear of being exposed as the outsider.

Rico moves in to terrorize the boys with his heavy-handed, "I'm still a jock" arrogance. He says he dumped his girlfriend, who complained he was "still in 1982," but we suspect the opposite. When he isn't reminiscing about what might have been - how he could have become a superstar in the "big game" if only the coach had let him off the bench - he's out selling a knockoff of tupperware. As one of the film's prime oppositional characters, Uncle Rico is both a cautionary tale (this could be you) and a bearer of clues: For all his faults, Rico exudes confidence, even if it's often shortcircuited by regret. He's a guy who, if he could ever get out of 1982, might actually amount to something.

In the meantime, Napoleon meets Deb (Tina Majorino), a likable girl-next-door who is also an eccentric dreamer. She shows up at his door, hawking her various wares - a home-made glamor-shots studio and handmade trinkets. Napoleon's first instinct is to judge, which we see when he gives her a hard time ("I already made an infiniti of these at scout camp"). But when Kip gives her a hard time, enough to send her running - and abandoning her stuff at the door - Napoleon takes a moment. To the film's credit, this moment isn't an obvious epiphany, but looking back through the film's events, it's an opportunity.

Every moment we meet someone new - and encounter what philosophers call "the other" - is an opportunity to choose. We can either incorporate the other and broaden our horizons, or reject it, and narrow our world. It's a question of heterogeneity versus "purity" - whether that purity is ethnic, religious, ideological or political. We are, in fact, living through one of those moments on a national and worldwide scale.

Napoleon has another learning experience when taking his brother, Kip, to town to attend an orientation meeting for "Rex Kwon Do," a martial-arts training course. Rex is yet another strange ranger, a self-appointed master who barks at his potential students and brags about his "skills." Dressed in flag pants, he's a ridiculous buffoon, but like so many others, he's blissfully ignorant of his own weirdness. Instead, he bullies those around him and is quick to single out Kip as a "Peter Pan."

Rex is an easy oppositional character, a gatekeeper of sorts, but he's also a twisted mentor in disguise - at least for those willing to look closely enough. The camerawork suggests that Napoleon is taking it all in, though not in the way Rex would like. Rex is selling something his disappointed brother will call "a rip off" but what he's selling points toward more clues for the disconnected. Rex says his course will give his students self respect, confidence and skills - and the first step is using "the buddy method." As Rex puts it, "no more flying solo. You need someone to watch your back."

Though we don't see it immediately, something has happened in Napoleon's chance encounter with Deb. As the story's events remind us, high school is an arena packed with pettiness and cruelty. When Deb leaves her "crap" on Napoleon's doorstep, he is confronted with a choice. That choice is not presented in the heavy-handed moralism of an afterschool special. It's just another detail in a hilarious escapade of seemingly disconnected actions and reactions. But something obviously gives Napoleon a reason not to be cruel. He takes Deb's things to school, where he'll have the opportunity to give them back.

Here's where the story uses a subtlety and observation that many critics simply missed. There's a gap between preadolescence and post-adolescence. In that gap, we go from same-sex bondings (buddies) to romantic involvement (boy meets girl, et cetera). It's easy to take all this for granted, but it does raise a question: How do we do that? How do we go from this one thing, which is simple and easy, to this other thing, which is complex and riddled with risk? (Napoleon actually asks the question when another student talks about asking out the school's most popular girl.)

Our society is confronted with this question in ways that are often haunting and chilling. Nerds and geeks are great producers of wealth and innovation - from Einstein to Bill Gates - but they are also among our biggest threats: Can you say Unabomber? Often, when we confront people who need to lighten up, we mutter something about "getting a girlfriend." Such acceptable insensitivity betrays an understanding. People who miss the bus on that big, adolescent, shift are potential misfits we'll hear from later.

There's a scene in this film when Napoleon is talking to a student who has a temporary fixation on the cool girl, Summer Wheatley (Haylie Duff). He intends to ask her out to the prom. This, of course, is insanity. In Napoleon's world, whatever democratic equality existed in grade school has melted into a class structure. In that new world, "cool" is the currency and Summer is just plain out of this guy's league. Napoleon doesn't pour water on the fire, but the tone of his comment is telling: "How are you going to do that?!?"

The person with whom he is speaking is Pedro (Efren Ramirez), a Mexican-American student who is literally "the new kid in school." If this film were set in L.A., a conversation like this might or might not exist. It certainly would not be about Pedro's inability to catch a blonde bombshell like Summer. But this is Idaho (whose environs also include the home of the Aryan Nations white supremacist group). Up here, it's not so much an outright hatred of Latinos that will keep Pedro at bay. It's just the sense that he and his kind are new, weird and a little out of place.

When Napoleon first meets Pedro, Principal Svadean (Tom Lefler) is giving him the orientation from Hell. Assuming Pedro is stupid, and maybe can't speak English, Principal Svadean is rapidly losing patience with him until Napoleon shows up and offers to give the lad a tour of the school. This is another moment of choice. Principal Svadean has opted for exclusion. Napoleon has gone the other way.

In giving Napoleon a "buddy," this film does more than rehash the grouping of Forrest and Bubba Gump. Yes, if Napoleon is going to have a buddy, what better choice would there be than to find another outcast? But there's more going on here than meets the eye. Napoleon is on track to eventually ask out Deb, the only girl who has ever treated him with something other than contempt. But Napoleon can't start a romance from where he is. He lacks the "skills" to do it.

What he needs is a "buddy." "No more flying solo."

Befriending the outcast, Pedro, Napoleon develops the same-sex bonding skills he'll need to work outside his own autistic world. When Pedro expresses an interest in Summer, Napoleon is skeptical, but he's inspired by Pedro's vision: "I'll build her a cake." The two go off with Napoleon on his bike and Pedro riding behind him, in boots. It's a hilarious moment, but one that goes for more than for laughs. These two are using "the buddy system." Neither is "flying solo" any more.

We see that, early on, when Napoleon wants to speak to Deb. He can't just go over. He has to get Pedro to dare him into it. When Napoleon makes his move, he's clearly not ready. His idea of a pick-up line is, "Are you drinking low-fat milk because you think you're fat? Well, you're not." It's not his words that open the door. It's his choice - kindness over cruelty - as he returns Deb's things (on the pretext that they're crowding out his numchuks).

In their own way, these boys are helping each other up the mountain. Each is watching the other's "back." When Summer replies, cruelly, to Pedro's invitation, Napoleon seems to echo her insensitivity but watch closely. There's a difference between what Pedro would see, if he were to read her response, and what he hears coming from Napoleon, who often speaks in exclamations anyway. There's a comical twist when it turns out Pedro has also asked Deb to the dance, which really unleashes a reaction from Napoleon (one completely unfiltered). That act, too, has a way of advancing Napoleon's cause. Though Pedro helps Napoleon to use his "skills" to ask out Summer's best friend, Starla, Pedro plays a key role in helping Napoleon bridge the gap between lonely geek and winner.

Every character has another side. The presumed "winners" in this film are really losers in disguise. The reverse holds true for its losers, including Uncle Rico, who struggles to make the transition from louse to human being. Deb is one of the film's most lovable characters because she has so much inner depth and tolerance. There's a scene where Rico and Kip need photo-i.d.'s and use her home-made glamor-shots studio. In that scene, Deb naturally turns Rico from the eye-popping nightmare that usually walks the screen to a human being with peace and charm. To do this, she uses a method that is laughable on its face, but one that works wonders.

It takes a Deb to redeem a guy like Napoleon, but that's not just a plot point: That's the message of the film. Each of us is a Napoleon, in our own way, and each of us has the capacity to be a Deb.

I love how this film shows such brilliant economy with its characters while showing off every decent location in the greater Preston area. We meet some odd ducks and see some interesting sights - from the beautiful mountain vistas to the golden waves of prairie grass to the chicken ranches and farms in between. At the bus station, we meet LaFawnda, Kip's "babe," whose acceptance of him proves what love can do. His transformation is both amusing and sublime. It says that within us are people most people have never met. It also suggests that those people are just as goofy as the mask we wear everyday.

The film's climactic struggle is Pedro's decision to run as student body president. In a film like Revenge of the Nerds, this would be fantasy wish fulfillment. In Napoleon Dynamite, it's something else. To paraphrase Donald Rumsfeld (and who wouldn't want to do that?) it's a cross between "the world we want and the world we have."

I'm at peace with my own weirdness, which includes an ability to reject Christianity while finding it fascinating as an ethic and a myth. In the Gospels, I see the archetype for a tale of amazing political subversiveness. Jesus, whom we are told is the Son of God, is born in a lowly manger. He's the sinless Son of God, but he's accused as an evildoer, who keeps company with publicans and sinners (then again, so does the GOP). He gets blamed for healing on a Holy Day. He casts out demons and is accused of being a witch. He is born in Bethlehem but his rivals slander him and say no great prophet has ever come out of Nazareth. His fatal crime is telling the truth, which becomes a confession in a blasphemy case. Even his mythical resurrection, his transcendence over death, is turned by an ancient paparazzi into a scandal: His disciples stole the body.

I bring up Jesus because I find, in his story, an archetype for tales that subvert "the official story." The Gospels may be among the world's oldest conspiracy theories (next to the one about Moses being an ancient Egyptian prince whose name was conveniently wiped off of every Egyptian artifact - without exception). If nothing else, the story of Jesus contains the idea that "the meek shall inherit the earth."

Napoleon Dynamite suggests that maybe "the geek shall inherit the earth." Is it possible to say, "Geeks of the world, unite"? Certainly, a comedy like Revenge of the Nerds could say so, but in telling its story in such an obvious tone of comic revenge fantasy, that film undermines its own seriousness. It winks. And when it winks, it blinks.

Napoleon Dynamite doesn't wink and it doesn't blink. It, instead, reminds us that it doesn't rain every day. There are moments, when all the galactic tumblers are in place, that the unlikely can happen. It's a question of when, where and how. Napoleon answers that third part with suggestions for the geek within all of us: be true to yourself; don't apologize for being different; don't engage in the witch hunt; be kind and bring others into your circle; then work within that circle and expand. The where and when is up to us.