A Baxter, according to Michael Showalter, is a guy whose fianc?e leaves him at the altar for a charismatic hero. A Baxter is pleasant, nerdy, timid and supremely uninteresting. He is, above all, a wimp. In short, he is not someone you want to watch an entire movie about. Nevertheless, Showalter, the man behind 2001’s brilliant Wet Hot American Summer, has brought us The Baxter, a flat romantic comedy which he wrote, directed and starred in.
The idea of exploring this character instead of the charming usurper who arrives at the chapel in the nick of time is a somewhat novel idea, but the movie reminds us why the Baxter isn’t supposed to be the star. Showalter’s character, Elliot, lacks any appeal. He is dorky but rarely cute. He’s clearly the underdog, but we’re given no incentive to root for him. He is preferable only by default to the absurdly obnoxious yet perfect Bradley, the ex-boyfriend who successfully conspires to win back Elliot’s fianc?e without a hint of subtlety. Bradley, played by Justin Theroux, does inject some life into the film through his over-the-top perfection. He’s a wealthy scientist, a sentimental sweetheart and a stud. Oh, and he can breakdance. The choice is a no-brainer for Elliot’s fianc?e Caroline, who quickly falls back in love with Bradley so she can leave Elliot just before their wedding vows are spoken. One is forced to wonder, though, why the lovely but shallow Caroline was ever interested in Elliot in the first place.
Some of the film’s deliberate structural choices don’t work to its advantage. Showalter frequently interrupts the action with his voiceovers, and the film’s first scene comes at the end of the story, causing some confusion and removing any suspense that could have developed. Too much of the film centers on Bradley’s stealing of Caroline, and not enough on developing Elliot’s romance with Cecil, the sheepish but sweet temp from his office (the girl he’s supposed to be with the whole time). As such, their relationship is a half-baked series of shy glances and awkward pauses.
But The Baxter is, after all, a comedy, and this would all have been forgivable if the movie was simply funnier. Unfortunately, almost all the humor stems from Elliot’s extreme awkwardness. Certainly Showalter has his moments (with lines like “I foolishly ordered wine with the cheeseburgers!”), but only so many gags can be spun around his character’s inability to react normally or assertively in any social or romantic situation before the device becomes tiresome. Showalter’s Stella co-stars, Michael Ian Black and David Wain, show up as Elliot’s friends, as do others from the Wet Hot cast, and they are all amusing. But their parts are tiny, and they all share the same role of comforting Elliot and giving him terrible, if heartfelt, advice. Peter Dinklage steals the show in his scenes as the meticulous, gay midget wedding planner. But none of this saves The Baxter, a depressing romantic comedy about a loser who doesn’t deserve our pity.
