Review
Michael Douglas with a woolly beard and a twinkle of madness, outfitted in scuba gear and ready to drill into the concrete floor of a Costco? This could have been the iconic image from a movie a lot quirkier and more enjoyable than King of California ends up being. Instead, the film is suffused by a forlorn quality that shouldn't have been present quite to this degree. Not that mental instability must be the stuff of comedy, nor that there isn't a valuable film to be made about teenagers forced to occupy the adult role in their dysfunctional families. But writer-director Mike Cahill's movie wears the guise of a thoughtful comedy, so when the levity takes a backseat to the purposely unhappy drudgery of a strip-mall California, it kills the tendency to laugh. In fact, many of this film's mistakes are opposite those usually made -- instead of trying too hard to be funny, it doesn't try hard enough; instead of over-stuffing the story with characters, it feels deserted. Douglas and Evan Rachel Wood (at her most depressive) need some extra bodies to spice up the narrative, but the most they're given to work with is Charlie's old jazz buddy (Willis Burks II), who enters the story just long enough to be moronically unhelpful during the climax. (And let's try to forget the brief appearance of a pair of swingers, who bring a tonal shift as abrupt as it is temporary). Cahill mourns a lost California where middle-class homeowners had casually scenic views, where ends somehow met even in the most bohemian of circumstances. Douglas plays those circumstances to a T. But Cahill can't make that mourning either whimsical or contagious, and that's where King of California (produced by Alexander Payne) splits ways with Sideways (written and directed by Payne). ~ Derek Armstrong, All Movie Guide
On the DVD
5.1 Dolby Digital surround
"Making Of" featurette
Outtakes
Previews
English SDH
Spanish subtitles
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