The Invention of LyingReview by Frederica Mathewes-Green |
posted 10/02/2009
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What would it be like to live in a world without lying? I expected the universe depicted in The Invention of Lying to present a reverse image of the Jim Carrey comedy Liar Liar, in which the main character finds himself uncomfortably compelled to tell the truth. I expected, that is, one more brash, noisy, agitated film, replete with insults and gross-out jokes. I wasn't expecting the sweetness in this film, its quietness and thoughtful core. It feels, in spirit, more like a fable, in the mold of mid-century films like It's a Wonderful Life or Miracle on 34th Street.
I just wish it were better. I wish the early promise didn't grow gradually thinner and less authentic—less true.
You could imagine a world without lying taking any number of forms. Screenwriters and directors Ricky Gervais (who also stars) and Matthew Robinson give us a world where people not only speak the absolute truth, but also have no internal controls to restrain blurting of uncomfortable and hurtful thoughts. At a restaurant, the hostess looks at gorgeous Jennifer and says, "Hi, I'm threatened by you." The waiter tells Mark and Jennifer, "I'm very embarrassed that I work here." And Jennifer is completely, devastatingly upfront with Mark over dinner: "You're overweight, you have a pug nose, and no job. You're not good enough for me," she says, with the blank honesty of a child and not a bit of (intentional) cruelty.
Ricky Gervais as Mark, Jennifer Garner as Jennifer
There are plenty of good laughs in the opening sequences as we get to observe what such an unadorned world would be like. Coke's slogan is "It's very famous." Pepsi's slogan is, "When they don't have Coke." A newspaper is named "Printed Publication" and a nursing home is "A Sad Place for Hopeless Old People." Movies consist of big-star readers, rather than actors, delivering factual lectures about history—because there's no fiction in this world, remember, even in the movies. (See if you recognize the famous "reader" Nathan Goldfrappe; this film is full of cameos.)
Mark is a screenwriter for Lecture Films, as a matter of fact, and has been assigned the fourteenth century. Worse luck for him, because the Black Plague doesn't sell tickets. As the story opens he is on the verge of being fired, and, down to only $300, about to be evicted from his apartment. But at the bank the computers are down, and when the teller asks how much he wants to withdraw, we see synapses firing deep in Mark's brain. He tells her that he wants the entire $800 in his account. The next moment, the computers are back online, and the teller sees only $300 there. Must be something wrong with the computer, she says, and hands Mark $800.
Rob Lowe as Rob
How you know this isn't a Jim Carrey movie is that Mark uses his power for good—well, mostly. At first he tries to scare a beautiful stranger into having sex with him, but her panic is so heartbreaking that he can't go through with it. So instead he begins to say kind and encouraging (and untrue) things to unhappy strangers, who instantly cheer up, given new hope and incapable of doubting his words.
The plot gets into gear when he is at his mother's deathbed. She tells Mark how frightened she is, and can't bear the thought of going into an "eternity of nothingness." Profoundly moved, Mark tells her that's not how it is: "You will go to your favorite place in the whole world. Everyone you love will be there. You'll dance—run and dance." Mark's eyes stream with tears. "There's no pain. Say hello to Dad for me. Tell him I love him." His mother dies full of joy and hope.
But the doctor and nurses have been looking on in astonishment. "What else happens?" "I'm going to see my mother again, when I die!" "Tell us more, please!"
Word spreads fast. Mark holes up for days as reporters and crowds gather outside his home, and eventually he comes forth with ten assertions about "the man in the sky" and his rules for living (scribbled on the backs of stone-tablet-shaped pizza boxes). His hearers are perplexed by some of the assertions and take note of apparent inconsistencies, but instantly accept whatever explanation Mark hands them; they are unable to doubt.