Boulevard

I guess there’s going to be several “last” films from Robin Williams. There is The Angriest Man in Brooklyn, reviewed badly, A Merry Friggin’ Christmas, reviewed even worse, the third installment of the Night at the Museum franchise, which wore out its welcome at number two, and a voice bit in Absolutely Anything, with reviews best described as tepid. I’ll watch that one because it has Simon Pegg, is directed by Terry Jones, and reunites all the living Monty Python boys, but I’m not expecting a lot.

Then there is this one. I know the man could do drama as well as comedy, but you can’t help wishing he had gone out with one last really funny film. This sure ain’t it. He is a severely repressed nebbish, twenty-five years as a loan officer at a branch bank. He is offered a promotion to head another branch, and something about that seems to set him adrift from his old life. He encounters a young hustler on a prostitute stroll in Nashville, and goes totally gaga over him. He is too shy to engage in sex, but finally confronting his homosexuality is not a joyous occasion for him. He is married, and totally inept at sneaking around behind his wife’s back. The hustler’s pimp beats them both up and takes all their money. And at that point I bailed out. I checked, and I was right, it only gets worse, more depressing from this point. And sometimes I just can’t handle that. I will say that the writing was good, and Williams did a good job of being sort of the anti-Robin, blending right into the wallpaper, he’s that boring. On another night I probably would have finished it. But maybe not.