Napoleon Dynamite

From AwardAnnals

Jump to: navigation, search
Film:

Napoleon Dynamite

Director: Jared Hess
Honors:
Genres:
Distributor: 20th Century Fox
As deadpan comedies go, Napoleon Dynamite stands in a class all its own. Played by John Heder, the title character is (in the words of critic Roger Ebert) “the kind of nerd other nerds avoid,” a mouth-breathing dweeb with a mangy nest of orange hair, and ungainly features that suggest a perpetual state of half-conscious depression. He lives in Preston, Idaho (former home of 24-year-old director Jared Hess) with his thrill-seeking grandma and 32-year-old brother, and his days at high school consist mostly of being abused or ignored by indifferent…
Find it:

Reviews

Amazon.com

As deadpan comedies go, Napoleon Dynamite stands in a class all its own. Played by John Heder, the title character is (in the words of critic Roger Ebert) “the kind of nerd other nerds avoid,” a mouth-breathing dweeb with a mangy nest of orange hair, and ungainly features that suggest a perpetual state of half-conscious depression. He lives in Preston, Idaho (former home of 24-year-old director Jared Hess) with his thrill-seeking grandma and 32-year-old brother, and his days at high school consist mostly of being abused or ignored by indifferent classmates. Napoleon’s sad-sack story doesn’t offer the scathing, impassioned humor of Welcome to the Dollhouse because Hess (who cowrote the nearly plotless screenplay with his wife, Jerusha) doesn’t have an angst-ridden axe to grind. Instead, the comedy (which exists in a tacky universe of worn-out rural suburbia) is so low-key that some will find it difficult to laugh, while others (i.e., those who feel superior to Napoleon) will have plenty of fun at Napoleon’s expense. The result is a curiously uneven film, hilarious at times, but hampered by its own sense of affectionate mockery. An audience favorite at the Sundance film festival, Napoleon Dynamite may not be entirely lovable, but it’s definitely unique. —Jeff Shannon

Barnes and Noble

Oddballs and underdogs are common fodder for comedies, but audiences had never seen a hero quite like the title character of this quirky indie hit from first-time filmmaker Jared Hess. Another newcomer, Jon Heder, delivers a truly unforgettable performance as Napoleon, a social outcast with a wild ‘fro who lives in a state of constant exasperation at a world that just doesn’t understand him; his protracted sighs are consistently amusing. Napoleon lives with his freewheeling grandma and his even nerdier older brother, Kip (Aaron Ruel), in the rural town of Preston, Idaho. He endures constant torture from bullies at his high school, and he gets no sympathy at home from Kip, who spends most days “chatting online with hot babes.” When his grandmother takes ill, Napoleon’s uncle Rico (John Gries) is sent to take care of the boys but spends most of his time hatching get-rich schemes and reliving his ‘80s salad days. The film itself, though set today, seems to be stuck culturally in the Reagan years. Life takes a turn when Napoleon meets two fellow outsiders: desperately shy Deb (Tina Majorino), and transfer student Pedro (Efren Ramirez). Spearheading Pedro’s bid for student body president against snobby cheerleader Summer Wheatley (Haylie Duff, sister of Hilary) may be just the thing to give Napoleon the self-confidence he needs. What Napoleon Dynamite may lack in narrative, it more than makes up for with little moments of hilarity: an action figure dangled out of a school bus on a string; Kip decked out in gangsta rap attire; Napoleon’s triumphant solo dance number. But the biggest laughs come from the highly quotable dialogue, which eschews profanity in favor of “gosh” and “darn.” The deliberately flat line readings only add to the film’s quirky charm. If all this sounds a little too ironic—à la Todd Solondz—it isn’t. Hess likes his misfit characters and injects the film with a healthy dose of heart. Napoleon Dynamite gets funnier every time you see it, and repeated viewings are almost a given. Bill Pearis

Personal tools