★ ★ ★ ☆ ☆
Tom Tykwer brings us a fabulous performance from Tom Hanks
in this mismatched but affable comedy drama based on Dave Eggers’ novel of the
same name. Hanks stars as Alan Clay, a businessman whose life is slowly
declining. Hoping to recoup his losses with one big pitch, Clay travels to
Saudi Arabia in the hopes of selling a revolutionary piece of video-call tech
to the King, but is beset at every turn by delays, misinformation and bemused
employees, humoured along the way by cab driver Yousef (Alexander Black). Clay’s
mounting discomfort and stress is seemingly diverted into a large cyst growing
on his back, but relief may yet be found in the form of Sarita Choudhury as a
curious doctor, Zahra.
It’s the innate likeability of Hanks as a leading man that
prevents A Hologram for the King slipping
into Eat Pray Love territory: that is
to say, a middle-class American finding new direction through the ‘weird and
wonderful’ insights of foreign cultures. Clay has massive potential to become a
cloying presence as the plot develops, but both Hanks’ charisma and the fact
that the film makes very little of the Saudi surroundings into a perverse
spectacle keep things afloat when the plot enters tricky waters. True, the
fish-out-of-water comedy is delivered thick and fast in the opening stanza, but
it’s more to do with Clay’s feelings of disconnect than any ignorance toward
the culture swallowing him up. Plus, it’s just plain funny and sardonic enough
to get away with it.
In what moments there are that scratch beneath the surface, Hologram would make an interesting
double bill with Demolition: both
deal with the inability to handle relational upsets and their subsequent
diversion, but where the latter lacked consistent tone, the former excels, not
least due to the warm, ingratiating turns from Black and Choudhury. Yousef’s
place in the drama is as unapologetic jester, whilst the plot thread belonging
to Zahra and Alan’s burgeoning connection lends the story a sweet, comforting
flavour. And all this placed in crisp contrast to the surrounding deserts, shot
as if they were the distant dunes of Mars.
But for all the grace in its characters and composure, the
structure needs work: the wacky Talking Heads intro – widely advertised in the
marketing – is over in the blink of an eye, and there’s an entire final act
sequence between sets of e-mails that is indulgent at best. Certain key players
are dropped remorselessly once they’ve delivered drops of worldly wisdom to
Clay, lending the events of A Hologram
for the King a disappointingly inconsequential feel. It’s a mess, but one that’s
easily forgiven and forgotten.
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