If there were a criminal charge for Grand Theft Feature Film, Oscar Isaac would be facing a long, long sentence. He pops up for a couple of scenes as an insurance investigator halfway through “Suburbicon,” evolves on the spot from mild patience to testy suspicion followed by snide cynicism, then departs with the movie stolen and stuffed into his back pocket. 
 
 In a film running a brief 104 minutes, he supplies 90 percent of the entertainment in 5 percent of the time. As for the rest of the project, we’ll get to that. Let’s take a moment first to count our blessings. 
 
 Retrofitted on the scaffolding of an old script by Joel and Ethan Coen, “Suburbicon” is a vision of 1950s-era Americana set in a hopeful, wholesome suburban community where everything looks absolutely peachy keen. (Spoiler: It’s not.) It features the Coens’ patented mix-and-match blend of shaggy dog humor and bloody violence, along with a high-minded subplot that aims to give the story contemporary relevance. Featuring Matt Damon and Julianne Moore as the lead actors and George Clooney as director, it’s star-studded top to bottom. 
 
 And it’s strikingly bad, too somber to be a comedy and too dizzy to work as drama. 
 
 An animated opening sequence introduces us to Suburbicon, an oddly named neighborhood where every new Eisenhower-era home looks like the one next door. Those cookie-cutter developments, made famous by the legendary Levittown, Pa., development of single-family tract houses, promised the returning veterans of World War II affordable tranquillity away from the pollution, noise and crime of the big city. 
 
 A happy mailman (this is back when they were still called mailmen) demonstrates how cheery life is in Suburbicon. He smiles at every door — until he meets the newest residents, the hamlet’s only black family. He steps back with a forced, frozen smile and bids them farewell in a textbook case of passive aggression. 
 
 Suburbicon ★ out of 4 stars Rating: R for violence, language and some sexuality. 
 
 This is pretty accurate. By 1953, Levittown constituted the largest racially restricted community in the United States, with 70,000 people and no black residents. The policy of racial exclusivity came from the developers and remained in place until the Supreme Court declared it unconstitutional more than a decade later. 
 
 That being said, however, it matters not if the back story is true. A Coenesque crime comedy is an awkward venue for exploring weighty social issues, and it’s hard to watch this misbegotten farce without wishing that Clooney and collaborator Grant Heslov (who has assisted on the scripts of other Clooney projects, including “The Monuments Men” and “Good Night, and Good Luck”) had decided to focus exclusively on the caper or the commentary. 
 
 The film is a collision of tones that would put a demolition derby to shame. Damon plays Gardner Lodge, a plain vanilla 1950s father with a secret life who is going through a midlife crisis and then some. His wife (Moore, who also plays the woman’s twin) is murdered. Their young son Nicky (Noah Jupe) gets even more traumatized when he concludes that his father and aunt (Moore again) are hiding something about the homicide. As usual in the Coen world, the best laid plans of imbeciles go awry, and characters are soon beating, stabbing, poisoning and killing one another in car crashes. 
 
 As distressing as this all sounds, it’s the kind of foul play the Coens could turn to zany fun in their own film. But in Clooney’s hands (remember “Leatherheads” or “Confessions of a Dangerous Mind”?), it’s even worse than it sounds. 
 
 Yet, it’s the disconnected subplot about the suburb’s new black residents, menaced by mobs at their home, right across from the Lodge residence, that seems like the biggest strategic error. Both sides of the film lift up a rock to expose the wormy things crawling beneath, neither in a way that’s dramatically effective. 
 
 Fortunately, we’ve still got Isaac (the title character in the Coens’ “Inside Llewyn Davis”) as the hilarious investigator. They’ll never take that away from us. 
 
 Colin.Covert@startribune.com 
 
 612-673-7186 
 
 Twitter: @colincovert ||||| The talent in front of and behind the camera for George Clooney's latest directorial effort, the 1950's satire "Suburbicon," has accumulated heaps of Oscar gold. But talented, award-winning filmmakers can get it totally, embarrassingly wrong sometimes. There's no other way to say it — this movie stinks. It is irritating, faux-edgy, tonally wack, strained, unfunny, and such a colossally tone-deaf misfire. 
 
 Clooney enlists Julianne Moore to trot out her tired Stepford wife routine, while Matt Damon phones in another iteration of his doltish dork character. But both of their performances just make us think of times when they've done this before, only better. 
 
 "Suburbicon" is a grotesque Frankenstein's monster stitched together from parts of "Pleasantville," "Fargo," "Far From Heaven" and "The Informant!," which are all great films, but this meaningless pastiche has no idea what it actually wants to say. Opening with an advertisement for a cookie-cutter Levittown-style suburb called Suburbicon, we plunge into this world of big hair, big skirts, perfect lawns and nuclear families. It's picture perfection with diversity by way of white families from Ohio and Mississippi. But there's darkness underneath all that sameness. 
 
 "Suburbicon" fundamentally fails in asking its audience to do two wildly different things at the same time. We're to laugh at a satirical family murder insurance scam, but we're also supposed to feel very sad and solemn about the evils of racism. But you can't mix nihilism and earnestness. It just doesn't work. 
 
 Hilary Bronwyn Gayle/AP Julianne Moore plays another Stepford wife in “Suburbicon.” Julianne Moore plays another Stepford wife in “Suburbicon.” (Hilary Bronwyn Gayle/AP) (Hilary Bronwyn Gayle/AP) 
 
 Bloody hijinks ensue in half of this movie. Rose (Moore), the wife of square businessman Gardner Lodge (Damon), is murdered in a terrifying home invasion. Her twin sister, Maggie (also Moore), moves in to care for their son, Nicky (Noah Jupe), but the relationship between his dad and aunt instantly seems fishy to the young boy, and things spiral out of control for Gardner. 
 
 This absurdist, violent tale is classic Coen Brothers. They originally wrote the script, and their voice is obvious. Clooney and his writing/producing partner Grant Heslov also took a pass, and it's clear that the filmmaker who excels at straightforward, politically engaged efforts like "Good Night and Good Luck," couldn't resist shoehorning in some social commentary about the toxic hegemony of Suburbicon. 
 
 Concurrent to the slow family annihilation, we witness the plight of the Meyers family, the first African-American residents in Suburbicon, who are tormented day and night by a racist mob of their neighbors. What is the point of this gross subplot? It's a condescending, critically uninterrogated take on old-timey racism — are we to feel better that racism is more nuanced and camouflaged now? Mr. Meyers doesn't even get a single line. He's completely voiceless, and we watch this family silently endure this burden for some futile reason. 
 
 There are a couple of bright spots: Oscar Isaac brings the energy up as a skeptical insurance agent, while Jupe brings the heart and soul. There are moments where it seems they might have told the whole bloody tale from Nicky's perspective, which would have been interesting, but that's abandoned. 
 
 Ultimately "Suburbicon" is woefully underwritten. Gardner and Maggie are mere sketches, a set of facial tics and accessories masquerading as real characters. The racism story is so broad it's essentially meaningless, and there are even some glaring continuity errors. "Suburbicon" is a shoddy, shameful showing, despite prestigious origins. 
 
 "Suburbicon" — 1 star 
 
 MPAA rating: R for violence, language and some sexuality 
 
 Running time: 1:45 
 
 Opens: Friday 
 
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 Check out the latest movie reviews from Michael Phillips and the Chicago Tribune. ||||| The perfect veneer of 1950s suburban life is just a mask for the deep rot and hypocrisy festering underneath the trimmed lawns in George Clooney's "Suburbicon," a derivative and somewhat edgeless satire with some compelling performances nonetheless. 
 
 Clooney directs a script credited to Joel and Ethan Coen, himself and Grant Heslov about a model community, Suburbicon, that promises a perfect suburban existence: a parcel of property for all, clean and well-stocked grocery stores, no traffic and friendly neighbors. But there's a catch and it is skin deep. 
 
 This is a problem when the Meyers family (Karimah Westbrook, Leith M. Burke and Tony Espinosa) moves to town. They are black, you see, and the rest of the community is not thrilled about it — eyebrows are raised, meetings are held (with interchangeable middle aged white men in flat top haircuts and wire-rimmed glasses shouting at one another through Dutch angle shots). Crowds start to gather outside of the Meyers house until it becomes an all-out mob. 
 
 The plight of the Meyers family is just the side story, though, a tacked-on and bluntly conceived commentary on how this community is too distracted by their racist fears to see what's going on next door, where Gardner (Matt Damon), his wheelchair-bound wife and his sister-in-law (both played by Julianne Moore) and his young son, Nicky (Noah Jupe) are terrorized in their own home by two goons with unclear motives. 
 
 It's probably best not to say much about how this home invasion spirals and evolves, but it brings a fair amount of intrigue and terrific side characters into the strange orbit of the milquetoast Gardner. There's Gary Basaraba as the empathetic Uncle Mitch, a lumbering and sweet presence who just wants to look after his nephew Nicky. Oscar Isaac, too, steals the show in a brief appearance as a three-steps-ahead insurance agent. Westbrook does wonders as Mrs. Meyers with not much screen time or dialogue, especially in a particularly upsetting scene in a grocery store where a store manager tells her that the price of milk is $20 for her. And the young Jupe proves to be a fantastic and compelling find, carrying much of the film as the hyper-vigilant kid who is watching his world unravel and doing something about it. 
 
 The leads are a little more underwhelming, which is perhaps a problem of the script. Damon plays Gardner as a kind of quiet everyman, the type who recedes into the background and goes unnoticed most of the time. Moore is more over-the-top, especially as the sister-in-law Margaret, who strains to be the perfect 50s woman. There are times when they're allowed to play a bit with quirky dialogue that I would assume is thanks to the Coens, like an amusing discussion about Aruba, but these moments are fewer than you might imagine from a Coen-crafted script. 
 
 Of all the periods that Clooney could have chosen to skewer, it feels almost toothless to take on 50s suburbia, though. Certainly there are meant to be parallels with today, but it is too obvious to be particularly subversive or revealing, and doesn't even go far enough to satirize the hypocritical social mores of the time. Thus you're left with just the plot, which moves along in a fairly compelling, if predictable way. But what's the point of all this talent and originality and freedom if it's going to feel so much like something we've already seen before? 
 
 "Suburbicon," a Paramount Pictures release, is rated R by the Motion Picture Association of America for "violence, language and some sexuality." Running time: 104 minutes. Two stars out of four. 
 
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 MPAA Definition of R: Restricted. Under 17 requires accompanying parent or adult guardian. 
 
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 Follow AP Film Writer Lindsey Bahr on Twitter: www.twitter.com/ldbahr ||||| Film Reviews 
 
 Up in the Air -- Film Review 
 
 Bottom Line: Laughs and heartbreak meld seamlessly in this brilliant character drama. 
 
 TELLURIDE, Colo. -- Cynicism and sentiment have melded magically in movies by some of the best American directors, from Preston Sturges and Billy Wilder to Alexander Payne. Jason Reitman mined the same territory in "Thank You for Smoking" and his smash hit, "Juno," and it's pleasing to report that he's taken another rewarding journey down this prickly path in his eagerly awaited new film, "Up in the Air." Boasting one of George Clooney's strongest performances, the film seems like a surefire awards contender, and the buzz will attract a sizable audience, even though some viewers might be startled by the uncompromising finale.Reitman and co-writer Sheldon Turner embellishes Walter Kirn's acclaimed novel about a man who spends much of his life in the air, traveling around the country to fire people for executives too gutless to do the dirty job themselves. The character is just about as unsavory as the corporate pimp played by Jack Lemmon in Wilder's "The Apartment." When a character begins as such a sleazeball, you know there must be a moral transformation lurking somewhere in the last reel. That redemption never quite arrives for Clooney's Ryan Bingham, which is one of the things that makes "Air" so bracing.Before the movie plunges into deeper waters, it seduces us with some of the most darkly hilarious moments to grace the screen in years. Clooney's crack comic timing makes the most of Ryan's acrid zingers as he savors a life without the vaguest threat of commitment. Trouble arises when his boss hires a young dynamo, Natalie (Anna Kendrick), who has the idea of cutting costs by instituting a program of firing people over the Internet instead of in person.Ryan sees his footloose lifestyle threatened, but he is forced to take Natalie on a cross-country odyssey to train her in the niceties of delivering bad news deftly. The interplay between the world-weary Ryan and the naive Natalie makes for delicious comedy, and Kendrick plays her role smoothly. There's also a wonderful performance by Vera Farmiga as Alex, a dynamo who clicks with Ryan because she's also seeking no-strings sex on the run. ("Think of me as you with a vagina," Alex tells Ryan helpfully.)Eventually, Ryan begins to question the assumptions that have ruled his life. His encounters with Alex and Natalie threaten his complacency. We can't help worrying that the film may take a sentimental turn, but miraculously, it never does. A scene in which Ryan returns home for a family wedding and talks a reluctant groom (well played by Danny McBride) into going through with the nuptials is a beautifully modulated sequence that manages to be poignant without ever falling into slop. Reitman is a rare director with heart as well as sardonic humor, but he always knows when to pull back. There is only one false note -- a montage sequence near the end in which several of the people fired by Ryan burble about their love for their families -- that simply restates the obvious.But if this tiny gaffe reveals a touch of insecurity on Reitman's part, the rest of the film is perfectly controlled. The entire cast is splendid. A couple of "Juno" alumni pop up: Jason Bateman is the smarmy boss who makes Ryan look humane, and J.K. Simmons has a single scene that proves just how much a master actor can convey in two or three minutes of screen time.The razor-sharp editing by Dana Glauberman gives the film a breezy momentum even while it's delivering piercing social insights. Holding everything together is Clooney, who bravely exposes the character's ruthlessness while also allowing us to believe in his too-late awakening to the possibilities he's missed. It's rare for a movie to be at once so biting and so moving. If Ryan's future seems bleak, there's something exhilarating about a movie made with such clear-eyed intelligence.
– You'd think only good fun could come from George Clooney directing Matt Damon in Suburbicon. Apparently not so. The satire touching on murder, fraud, and also racism in 1950s suburbia has just a 29% rating from critics on Rotten Tomatoes. Here's what they're saying. "There's no other way to say it—this movie stinks," writes Katie Walsh at Tribune News Service, throwing out a long list of adjectives: "irritating, faux-edgy, tonally wack, strained, unfunny," along with "shoddy, shameful." She complains in particular about a racism subplot that comes across as "condescending" and says the film fails by wanting us to do two things—feel upset about that subplot while finding hilarity in a "satirical family murder insurance scam. ... You can't mix nihilism and earnestness." Lindsey Bahr calls Suburbicon "a derivative and somewhat edgeless satire with some compelling performances nonetheless." Gary Basaraba and Oscar Isaac, specifically, are impressive, Bahr writes at the AP. But Damon and Julianne Moore aren't up to snuff. Nor is the story itself, which "doesn't even go far enough to satirize the hypocritical social mores of the time." The result feels "so much like something we've already seen before." Chris Klimek was impressed with Damon, Moore, as well as Isaac and child actor Noah Jupe. Too bad they're in a "tone-deaf” film that's "queasy to sit through," he writes at NPR. In condemning racism "in the most broad, perfunctory, awareness-ribbon-wearing way while barely allowing its black characters to speak … Suburbicon might be the biggest embarrassment to pious Hollywood liberalism since Crash won best picture in 2006," he writes. Colin Covert identifies the main problem as the reworking of Joel and Ethan Coen's script by Clooney and Grant Heslov, who should have made either a crime comedy or a piece of social commentary, but not both. Instead, Clooney made a film that's "strikingly bad, too somber to be a comedy and too dizzy to work as drama," Covert writes at the Minneapolis Star Tribune. He does applaud Isaac, though. "In a film running a brief 104 minutes, he supplies 90% of the entertainment in 5% of the time."