by Sam Buntz
It may seem amazing, indeed miraculous, that the guy who directed Step Brothers and Talladega Nights: The Ballad of Ricky Bobby went on to direct The Big Short—my favorite of the movies from 2015 I’ve seen so far. (Granted, I still haven’t seen The Revenant, Bridge of Spies, The Hateful Eight…and a bit more besides). But it doesn’t seem miraculous to me, because creating comedy is hard.
I labored for a weird, collegiate idle in the standup comedy salt mines, and realized that life is but “sound and fury, signifying nothing.” The amount of crappy comedy out there is staggering, and a genuinely amusing Will Ferrell movie like Step Brothers deserves all the cred it can get. It’s infinitely easier to write or direct a somberly trudging period piece or a domestic melodrama than it is to be consistently funny; hence, the ascent of Adam McKay into potential Best Director Oscar territory should not come as a huge surprise.
The Big Short (co-written by McKay along with Christopher Randolph) details the true stories behind the people who guessed, circa 2006, that the housing market was ready to collapse in the next year or two, brought down by all those trashy, unstable subprime loans and the bonds underlying them. By betting against the market (“shorting” it), they were able to secure a massive payoff. Among these clairvoyant financial visionaries are Mark Baum (Steve Carrell) and Dr. Michael Burry (Christian Bale), who experience both the intoxication and the anxiety of knowing more than everyone else.
While the people responsible for the predatory lending of subprime loans appear to be idiotic bros—one of whom is portrayed by Schmidt (Max Greenfield) from New Girl—the smart guys, by-and-large, are outsiders. Burry has a glass eye, a condition that, along with his social awkwardness, separates him from the mass of men—yet, ironically, he can see farther than anyone else, spotting the signs of imminent collapse first. As a child, Baum used to get great grades at Hebrew School, though his industriousness was fueled by his rebellious search for inconsistencies in the Talmud, an impulse now parlayed into finding inconsistencies in the market.
In addition to these quirky performances, another impressive element of the movie is its sheer density. It clarifies much about the financial crisis, yet retains depths and layers—shying in little symbols that you might not notice the first time. For instance, at one point, a character is flipping through TV channels, which show images of both Barry Bonds and Lance Armstrong—connecting their own steroid-inflated success to the false prosperity of the housing market.
The movie also makes extensive and impressive use of what the German playwright Bertolt Brecht dubbed “the alienation effect.” Characters address us directly, reminding us that we’re watching a movie, and Anthony Bourdain and Selena Gomez provide unexpected cameos, explaining how financial tricks like CDOs (collateralized debt obligations) work via clever analogies. While amusing us, these moments also (intentionally) prevent us from accepting the movie solely or purely as entertainment. They make us concentrate on its message. And The Big Short is overtly and unapologetically a message movie—the message being: people don’t act in their own “rational self-interest,” and greed and stupidity will ultimately hold the field.
Instead of becoming excessively caught up in the characters’ quest for their MacGuffin (their desired goal, the payoff generated by the “Big Short” of the title), we’re pushed back, forced to consider the movie with more objectivity. We focus on what it’s actually saying, and we learn its lessons—we eat our vegetables and enjoy it. Being a purveyor of socialist educational theater, Brecht would’ve been proud.
The Big Short reminded me of why I’m supporting Bernie Sanders (who himself endorsed the movie). Occasionally, the more cautious Sanders supporter starts to think, “Maybe this is all too idealistic… Like, are we really going to have single-payer healthcare and free tuition in state colleges with a Republican-led congress?” But then you remember the roots of your discontent—you see the full battery of dirty tricks used by the big banks, thoroughly exposed and detailed. And you’re reminded that gradual and minimal change, and the impulse to be “reasonable,” can simply act as a smokescreen for unbridled greed. You feel the need to do something—to take a stand, regardless of its imperfect footing. And I’m grateful to The Big Short for that reminder.