The shadow of Glengarry Glen Ross looms large over this tale of down-on-their-luck shills. But The Big Kahuna has loftier ambitions than echoing David Mamet, harking back not just to Death Of A Salesman but also Sartre and Beckett's existential dramas. Though it remains inextricably stagebound, John Swanbeck's film boasts powerhouse performances from Kevin Spacey and Danny DeVito that transcend the limitations of both Roger Rueff's script and their young co-star, Peter Facinelli.
On the last day of a convention in Wichita, Kansas, two industrial lubricant salesmen - Larry Mann (Spacey) and Phil Cooper (Danny DeVito) - are camped out in a hotel room, desperately hoping a lucrative big shot will stop by. Larry is waspish cynicism incarnate, his patter as sharp as the creases on his $300 suit. Phil, though, is the exact opposite: a broken man, separated from his wife and at the end of his tether.
Spacey takes out his frustration on fledgling sales assistant Bob (Facinelli), but soon changes his tune when he learns the younger man has a connection to the big cheese in question. Bob, though, is a fundamentalist Christian with a higher purpose in mind.
Adapted from his own play Hospitality Suite, Rueff's screenplay makes little attempt to take the action beyond the confines of one claustrophobic interior. That shouldn't be an issue, but the fact that much of the plot revolves around something happening off-camera - a swanky cocktail party to which Bob is dispatched to hook the big fish - makes us hanker to see what's going on, not be told about it second-hand.
"SPACEY IS AS EYE-CATCHING AS EVER"
Spacey may be on familiar ground here, but his sardonic bluster is as eye-catching as ever. But it's DeVito who emerges as the film's real star, his crumpled Everyman the lone voice of reason in this unlikely m茅nage 脿 trois.
The Big Kahuna (2004)
