Pay It Upward
by Don Larsson

K-PAX is: 

a) a new kid's breakfast cereal
b) a Catholic radio station
c) a TV marketer of repackaged rock hits
d) a disappointing movie

The answer is, unfortunately, d.

Reminiscent of a slew of films, from Harvey to One Flew Over the Cuckoo's Nest to Awakenings to 12 Monkeys, the story is about a man (Kevin Spacey) who appears mysteriously in Grand Central Station one morning, claiming to be a visitor from another galaxy, and specifically from the planet K-PAX. Calling himself "Prot" (with a long "o," as in "Proteus"), he is a case unique enough to come to the attention of psychiatrist Dr. Mark Rogers (Jeff Bridges), who has him admitted to his mid-Manhattan clinic. Eventually, Rogers, along with others, begins to wonder if there might actually be something to Prot's claims. Prot, it seems, has knowledge of astronomy and mathematics known only to a few Princeton and NASA Ph.D.s; his body's vital signs are unusual if not impossible for a human being; and he seems to quickly establish rapport with other patients, dogs, and children. His gifts of empathy even seem capable of helping the workaholic Bridges to mend the ragged fabric of his own family (the estranged son from his first marriage, his growingly-estranged second wife).

So far, so good, even if the film is retreading familiar (hospital)
grounds. As the films mentioned above testify, such a plot can be used to question the definitions of sanity in a sterile world, explore the intricate nature of human consciousness, or stretch our personal understanding of time and space. There could be a lot of room for fun in a film like this too, given all the cliches about misunderstood aliens and psychiatric hospitals that we've endured for decades. Take, for example, the possibilities of Spacey's very name or the fact that Bridges himself was a misunderstood alien in John Carpenter's Starman. Lighting and photography also hint from time to time at orders of existence beyond the usual realms of human knowledge and experience.

But no dice. The film tries to please all and takes no risks,
thus running a skewed course between tepid boredom and sheer confusion. Even while Rogers frantically searches for some clues to Prot's background, there's no real conflict here, nothing to grab on to. Rogers and all of his colleagues are good, well-meaning shrinks in a facility that looks like it costs well above the limits allowed by those few HMOs that might approve mental care in the first place. The patients are genial eccentrics, not raving loonies or even people suffering real pain. The few hints given for causes of their conditions are the tritest pop-psych. There's no specific cause ever given for why Bridges and his son don't talk to each other, while his current wife seems more peeved than genuinely angered or perplexed by her husband's distance. As for humor - well, suffice it to say that Girl, Interrupted has more genuinely funny moments than anything here.

Bridges gives his usual workmanlike performance, but Spacey is confined to a genial one-note set of tones and gestures for the first half of the film. (His penchant for eating raw fruit, stem, peel and all, gets stressed to the point of tedium.) Spacey gets to stretch more into other emotional territories and does it quite well, but by then it's too late. The stretch seems less a refreshing loosening of muscles than the agonies of being stretched on the script's rack. The ending, meaning to be uplifting, simply dissolves into utter confusion.

This is another of those movies whose performers are good enough to delude you into thinking this is a good film if you aren't paying much attention to the story. As it is, though, this is yet another film, like Spacey's last one (Pay It Forward), unworthy of its cast. Let's hope that this kind of a thing is just an interruption for him. I recommend that he swallow a big dose of K-PAX (available in local pharmacies) to cure this condition.

©2001 Don Larsson
CineScene