When Albert Brooks goes Looking for Comedy in the Muslim World, he gives the very distinct impression that he doesn't even know where to find it in his own world.
This is not to detract from Brooks' talent. Though he has carefully followed the Woody Allen mold, playing a self-doubting schlub onscreen and a clever writer/director offscreen, he has nevertheless contributed some interesting and funny ideas—and indelible characters—to the canon.
His directorial debut, Real Life, now looks like a classic. In it, he plays "Albert Brooks," an obsessive, narcissistic filmmaker who convinces an average family to let him film their daily lives—an early "reality show." Of course, he winds up fussing and nitpicking, changing the "reality" to suit the show and finally becoming personally involved in the project.
In Looking for Comedy he plays Albert Brooks again, but this time living in a quasi-realistic world, in which he has made films called Lost in America and Finding Nemo. But this Albert is tired and burnt-out. He drags along as if he has the flu. He still fusses and nitpicks, but the life has gone out of it.
He turns up in the opening scene at an audition. Directing a remake of Harvey, Penny Marshall (playing herself) searches for the next Jimmy Stewart. Albert waddles in, reeking of defeat. Marshall shoos him away as quickly as he arrives. It should be a funny moment, but it's not; it just feels soiled and sad.
Another celebrity makes a cameo: Real-life Sen. Fred Dalton Thompson (who's acted in films like In the Line of Fire) summons Brooks to a special committee meeting. As a goodwill gesture, he'll be sent to India and Pakistan to find out what makes Muslims laugh. But rather than actually investigating anything, Albert obsesses about the 500-page report he'll have to write.
In India, Albert hires a pretty Indian girl, Maya (Sheetal Sheth), to be his translator. Two Washington types (John Carroll Lynch and Jon Tenney) tag along. Their confidence only underlines Albert's own ineptitude; because of his bungling, he nearly starts a war.
Shooting in India, Brooks misses a chance to explore some inventive cross-cultural material and instead draws most of the film's laughs back to himself. He invents a vaguely romantic connection with Maya and dresses in what he thinks is "traditional" garb, including shoes with curly toes. Worst of all, he tries to make the natives laugh with his unbearably horrible comedy routine. (People familiar with Brooks' '70s stand-up may recognize an attempt to be ironic here, but the plain fact is that it's not funny.)
In another example of the film's desperate humor, the now famous TV station Al Jazeera invites Albert to a meeting; he thinks they're going to help him with his quest, but they want to offer him a sitcom called That Darn Jew. Um, yeah.
Brooks' films generally contain one or two good ideas before they collapse into third-act confusion, but this one appears as if Brooks the director literally dragged Brooks the actor out of bed for the job. It's lethargic and sluggish. He had a chance to explore Western images of Muslims and, through laughter, make them more human. Instead, what we get is less a handshake and more like an affront.