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JUSTIN TANNER REVIEWS BLACKBERRY
The sight of goofy workplace nerds gleefully hanging a handmade sign reading “Movie Night!” in the middle of their toy-cluttered office — in giddy anticipation of a group screening of “Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles” — is a nostalgic ode to not only the ‘dumb but fun’ cultural trends of the late 90’s, but — more poignantly — the idea that for a brief time in this country, work and fun could actually live at the same address. Along the lines of “How to Blow Up a Pipeline” — that other subversive indie about bucking the system — “Blackberry” puts forth a rather radical idea for these win-at-any-cost times:
Though ostensibly just another one of those tiresome films where a product is the star, “BlackBerry” rises above that dubious distinction by not itself being — like Ben Affleck’s queasy hand-job to product placement, “Air” — an advertising campaign masquerading as a film, since BlackBerry was discontinued in 2022.
Additionally, the director (Matt Johnson, “The Dirties”) has managed to turn that all important trick of making the story of the rise and fall of a smartphone specific enough to be compelling in its particulars — the period details are spectacularly realized — while universal enough for the story beats to apply — metaphorically at least — to any endeavor that’s fueled by genuine passion, and derailed by the almighty dollar. Adapted from Jacquie McNish and Sean Silcoff’s book “Losing the Signal: The Untold Story Behind the Extraordinary Rise and Spectacular Fall of BlackBerry”, the movie, and its tight screenplay by director Johnson and Matthew Miller, does a terrific job of setting the narrative balls in motion right from the start. Two fun-loving tech junkies, the above mentioned Mike Lazaridis and his best friend Douglas Fregin (played by the director, Matt Johnson) run a struggling software company called RIM (Research in Motion) — which I was certain had to be a made up name but is in fact real. One day they pitch — rather badly — the revolutionary idea of a new kind of cell phone — that can send and receive emails — to a sharky, aggressive businessman. And the die is cast. This clash between video game-playing, Cheetos-eating slackers and a Darth Vader-ish capitalist provides the bulk of the meet-cute comedy in “BlackBerry.” It’s not a romance, per se, but the beats of a screwball courtship are played out between this collection of sexually neutered men who only have eyes for gigabytes (the nerds) and dollars (the plutocrat). What director Johnson seems to be getting at is an examination of office dynamics and what exactly constitutes a work ethic.
Is following the rules better than breaking the rules? Is redefining what “work” means better than adhering to tried and true structures? Does it matter if you like your job? Is chasing money the only thing that matters? There’s a lot to chew on in this very efficient, occasionally thrilling film, and its plusses outweigh the minuses enough to make for an engaging couple of hours. But the early beats work significantly better than the later ones, primarily because two of the lead actors aren’t imaginative enough to carry the tougher emotional scenes required when things inevitably get rough. Jay Baruchel is great while playing an exasperating goofball/genius but his transition into tough-minded businessman doesn’t convince. When called upon to be a dick, it feels forced and shrill. And though Matt Johnson is a highly skilled director and writer, his acting is the weakest thing about the film, suffering as it does from the kind of slightly distracted and self-conscious performance that sometimes happens when an actor directs himself. (Ben Affleck suffered from a similar affliction in “Air.) What saves the movie is the powerhouse star-making performance by Glenn Howerton as Jim Balsillie, the brutally funny, self-appointed CEO in charge of getting the product to market.
Whether he’s raging, wheedling or sucking up to superiors, Howerton effectively power washes the rest of the cast right off the screen. Watching him destroy a payphone in barely controlled fury is the comedic highlight of the film. And yet Howerton saves his most effective piece of acting for the ending when, in a moment of extreme crisis, instead of the apoplectic meltdown we expect, he brings out a smile of such redemptive warmth it takes your breath away, revealing an aspect of his character we never imagined. “BlackBerry” is not a movie I expected to like as much as I did. I don’t particularly care about smartphones or commerce or workplace comedies. Nonetheless, its charms outweigh its performative shortcomings. The marvelously precise details, intelligent script, propulsive direction and tight editing make it more than worth a trip to the cineplex. IN THEATRES
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