Jody Hill's OBSERVE AND REPORT begins boldly, with The Band's take on Bob Dylan's "When I Paint My Masterpiece" blaring out over a montage of American mall bustle. Bratty kids, shoplifting teenagers, and, above all, thoughtless consumerism - it's all represented in yawning slo-motion. And it'd all be completely mundane were it not for that opening profile shot of Seth Rogen's pudgy Ronnie Barnhardt surveying the activity with an authoritarian sneer. It's a crucial gesture because, from that point on, we associate the surreal, grandiose yearning of Dylan's lyrics with Ronnie's drive to rule this realm of numbness.

"Someday, everything is gonna be diff'rent,
When I paint my masterpiece."

Ronnie's medium: mall security. His theme: justice. His audience: everyone who passes through the doors of the Forest Ridge Mall, but specifically Brandi (Anna Faris), the slutty makeup counter girl who is aware of Ronnie only as an annoyance. His muse: a trench coat-clad flasher who's showing his cock to random females in the parking lot. And when this pervert whips out his manhood in front of Brandi, Ronnie uses the attack as a provocation to do something great for the first time in his life. He's going to catch this sicko and prove to the world that he's "the man".

If Ronnie's limited ability to "observe and report" was the only impediment standing in the way of his hazily-defined triumph, Hill's film would be just another portrait of a raging, undereducated, firearm-crazy white guy. But Ronnie's got another problem: he suffers from bipolar disorder. There's a chemical explanation for his violent mood swings. Suddenly, his gun-nuttery and lecherous pursuit of Brandi - particularly when he uses his position and his girth to bully her into a date - isn't winningly schlubby; it's downright frightening. He views himself as an avenging angel; he's the rain that's come to wash the scum off the streets (or at least the premises of Forest Ridge Mall). Ronnie Barnhardt is the last guy who should be packing heat or chasing a sexual deviant; if anyone needs looking after, it's him.

Compared to Fred Simmons (of THE FOOT FIST WAY) and Kenny Powers (of the just-renewed HBO series EASTBOUND & DOWN), Ronnie is easily the most dangerous of Hill's delusional protagonists. But because he's played by the ever amiable Seth Rogen, he's also the most ingratiating. When Ronnie racially profiles an arabic vendor (Aziz Ansari) or resolves via the "just look at him" approach that a Mexican janitor has confessed to being the flasher, we're amused more than appalled. Ronnie may be a racist, but, in this instance, he's merely trying to nab some tubby dick-wagger in order to be the hero - which, to his mind, is the diamond lane to Brandi's heart/pants. So we excuse it because the whole ordeal is just so utterly fucking mindless.

And that's the trick Hill keeps pulling off throughout the film: we're consistently laughing off Ronnie's behavior because he seems too inept to be a threat. This is all well and good in the early going, but then there's the ride-along scene with Ray Liotta's Detective Harrison, where Ronnie gets stranded in a rough neighborhood and somehow brawls his way out of a one-on-five with a pack of gun-toting drug dealers. Now we see the potential for catastrophe in Ronnie; he has an impressive facility for violence. The thing is, we're primed to cheer, not recoil. And if the audience response in both screenings I've attended is any kind of accurate reflection, people are going to applaud Ronnie's lethal outburst without a moment's hesitation.

By this point, it's pretty clear that if anyone's painting a masterpiece, it's Hill. Sure, we've rooted on borderline fascists before (e.g. Dirty Harry), but sociopaths*? And to what end? There's nothing remotely decent about Ronnie's actions. His impulse to apprehend wrongdoers is selfish; it's a power-trip fueled by resentment and libido. And he's derailing a legitimate police investigation in the process. But we're sitting there pulling for him to catch the bad guy, bed the girl (which he does thanks to a liberal application of daiquiris, tequila shots and anticonvulsants), and throw up a middle finger to the civilized world in a gesture of mad defiance. Why? That's a damn good question.

Spoilers a-comin.

There's been a lot of talk about OBSERVE AND REPORT's transgressive nature, but that only applies if you think Hill and Rogen (uncredited as a co-writer, but crucial in the shaping of the screenplay) are getting off on Ronnie's bad behavior. I'd like to think they're being more subversive than transgressive - if only because I don't want to feel horrible about having enjoyed their film so thoroughly. In Hill's previous work, his protagonists have been humbled to the point of changing something in their lives. Not so with Ronnie. Oh, sure, he takes a pretty awful beating at the hands of Liotta and the cops, but he learns nothing from it. And maybe he comes to understand the shallowness of his love for Brandi, but it's not like his intentions with the other, nicer girl (Collette Wolfe aka Mrs. Jodi Hill) are pure. His deranged worldview has been reinforced. And as Ronnie blasts away at the firing range in the film's final shot, we should be horrified because his rage is anything but impotent.

But even after we've seen Ronnie put a bullet through an unarmed flasher at point-blank range, we're elated. And maybe that's even worse. It's hard to tell. I'm still laughing too hard to decide whether I should be ashamed with myself - not to mention whether Hill's painted a masterpiece or just said some really uncouth shit.

Faithfully submitted,

Mr. Beaks

P.S. If you live in New York or Los Angeles, and want your faith restored in humanity after seeing this, make OBSERVE AND REPORT the first half of a double feature with ANVIL! THE STORY OF ANVIL. Or, if you want to avoid this raucous unpleasantness altogether, just go see ANVIL!

*And the dolts who adopted the Travis Bickle look for midnight screenings of TAXI DRIVER back in the day don't count.