The title is a bit of a misnomer; there is more than one cringe-making suburban dinner in this firecracker of a comedy. Each of these over-table exchanges, to paraphrase Tolstoy, is cringeworthy in its own special way.
Snarling in a bomber jacket and powering down pavements like a man possessed, 90s punk Simon (Kyle Gallner, outrageously good) is seldom an ideal house or dinner guest. Picture a sneering, anarchist Napoleon Dynamite punching and kicking his way through Ghost Town. He’s a Rebel Without a Cause amplified to a ridiculous extreme.
Ejected from a paid drug-research study, Simon hooks up with Beth (Hannah Marks), a fellow reject who invites him over for, well, dinner, an occasion which implodes once Beth’s mom (Lea Thompson) gets frisky with the guest.
There’s a touch of Harold Pinter and Boudu Saved from Drowning in the spiky early scenes, as Simon finds himself at the table of a second, entirely neurotic middle-class Michigan family. He arrives at this meal, reluctantly, at the behest of Patty (Emily Skeggs), a poignantly awkward 20 year old, who attracts ridicule both at home and at work. (Until, of course, she is fired.)
By a mad coincidence, albeit one that sits snugly within this angular outsider romcom, Patty is an obsessive fan of Simon’s secret alter ego, John Q, the masked frontman of punk group Psy Ops. She’s also a talented vocalist as her wonderful performance of her own spirited song – “F**k ’em all but us” – confirms.
Patty’s goofy openness works a strange magic on Simon and his abrasiveness (and drug sharing) enlivens and improves both Patty and her family. In common with the best comedies about awful people, the script holds on to its decidedly un-PC lack of niceties for as long as possible.
Writer-director Adam Rehmeier’s torture porn feature debut, the Bunny Game, displeased many of the most indulgent genre fans. Dinner in America, with its surreal ear for dialogue, offbeat romance and cartoonish energy, is shocking for all the right reasons. Caustic exchanges and lopsided family dynamics make for entertaining verbal donnybrooks.
Despite the careful 1990s period details, this is a bruising and welcome riposte to John Hughes’ 1980s teen movies. One can see the appeal for producer Ben Stiller, but it’s the wildly appealing Gallner and Skeggs who are the real stars here.
