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Review: HOUSE OF D / David Duchovny (2004)

July 28th, 2008 by Scott Marks

The House of D (2004)
Written and Directed by David Duchovny
Starring: David Duchovny, Robin Williams, Anton Yelchin, Tea Leoni and Erykah Badu
Running Time: 97 min.
Aspect Ratio: 1.85:1

Rating: ★★★★☆ for unintentional laughs

Having never watched an episode of The X-Files, I steered clear of the screening. Instead I offer up a review of a David Duchovny film that I can wholeheartedly endorse!

For the duration of the opening credits there was promise. We open on movement. Cut to: a sketchpad painting of a bicycle in front of the Eiffel tower that gracefully transitions to a shot of David Duchovny bringing the watercolor to life. All under the skilled eye of ace cinematographer Michael Chapman (Taxi Driver, Raging Bull). Promise soon gave way to satirical contemptuousness.

On the occasion of his son’s thirteenth birthday, an American in Paris (Duchovny) decides to finally unload his personal backstory on his wife and kid. Flashback to: 1973 Greenwich Village. Stepping up to play the young Duchovny is thirteen-year-old Anton Yelchin, As Tommy Warshaw, Yelchin is an untrained child actor hampered by a droning nasal delivery better suited for commercial voiceovers.

Tommy’s home life is on pause. His recently widowed mother (Tea Leoni) is a disillusioned, chain-smoking emotional wreck. His school life is more painstakingly nuanced than a VH1 I Love the Seventies special. It’s all clacker-balls, loose-leaf Origami fortune tellers and a stick shift, banana seat Schwinn Apple-Crate bicycle (renamed “The Green Goddess”). Why fuss with character development and structural layering when it’s easier to hire a design team with good memories?

The film is not without moments of inspired perversity. While Tommy is showering, mom enters to take use of the toilet. She punctuates her ablutions by dropping a lit cigarette between her legs. Later, Tommy pissbombs his mom’s floating butts with a yellow downpour, drenching the four filter-tipped rafts. Pretty bold stuff for the X-Files ex. It should have stopped there. We do not need to revisit the porcelain ashtray another six or seven times before mom goes brain dead, leaving Tommy to wistfully scoop cigs out of the water and lovingly preserves them in Charmin.

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