Butter might be the
first movie to implicate your movie popcorn in the plot.
Did you know butter sculpting was a national pastime in some
states? I didn’t. I kept thinking about that Brad Paisley fast-food ad about
all-American things: “Bald eagles, monster trucks, toddler pageants, spray
tans, dog sweaters.” Add to that list butter sculpting, at least in places like
Iowa , where Butter is unflatteringly set.
Artists begin by mashing together little sticks of butter to
create giant blocks, from which they will carve their masterpieces. Never mind
that the medium of butter — in a horrifying shade of Simpsons yellow and just
all-around kinda icky — does not help elevate a sculpture’s artistic appeal.
This does not stop these butter sculptors from hilariously carving the Last
Supper, a scene from Schindler’s List
or “Neil Diamond as Jesus” into tasteless butter-kitsch. Other works include
“Newt Gingrich on a horse” and a scene of the JFK assassination complete with
Jackie O. climbing over the back of the limousine to retrieve a piece of the
dying president.
The absurdity of butter is its central component, and if you are
to appreciate its satirical tone, then you must accept a world where butter is
not only the currency of the film, but also its economy, religion and science.
Butter-sculpting champion Bob Pickler (Ty Burrell) is being
forced into retirement. “Time to give some other people a chance to shine,” the
butter-sculpting chairman tells him. This is not good news for Bob’s wife,
Laura (Jennifer Garner), who calls herself the first lady of butter. Laura, a Midwest version of Sarah Palin — complete with attacks on
the “liberal media” for not covering butter competitions like the Super Bowl —
decides to take up butter carving herself to remain in the yellow-tinted
spotlight.
Meanwhile, 12-year-old Destiny (Yara Shahidi) is shuffled back
and forth to foster families until she ends up with the Emmets (Rob Corddry and
Alicia Silverstone), a sweet couple who encourage good things from their new
family member. For a reason that’s not explained, Destiny takes an interest in
butter carving, which leads to calamity at the county fair when Destiny’s
sculpture of Harriet Tubman upstages Laura Pickler’s creation in a way that
cuts right to her core. Laura casts aside any notions of sportsmanship, or even
common decency, to launch a vicious attack on the innocent tween and her
natural gift for shaping butter.
The movie, which draws some of its cheery spirit and satirical
edge from Jason Reitman’s Thank You For
Smoking, plays fast and loose with its composition. The plot is narrated by
many characters, including a cheating huckster played by Hugh Jackman, who
plays the character like he did his research from an Iowa Walmart. Laura also
does some narrating, especially during a key sequence when she discovers her
husband, “the Elvis of butter,” has paid a stripper for sex.
The stripper, played with a charming zest by Olivia Wilde, is
never far from any storyline after her run-in with Laura and her bewildered
husband. She aligns herself with Destiny, if only to make Laura suffer. The
vengeful stripper might be the best part of Butter.
I liked how she kept trying to get her $600 that Bob owed her, but then her
services are required for another Pickler family member and the number jumps to
$1,200. At one point she takes Destiny to the mall where she points at the
Victoria Secret store and says, “That’s where I buy my work clothes.” Destiny,
rightfully, asks where she works. “Barnes & Noble,” the stripper tells her.
Olivia Wilde needs her own movie with this character.
Also interesting is Garner as the butter diva. She overplays the
role, but it works because Butter is
just satirical enough for a performance that borders on parody. Garner plays
with a subtle racial undertone; her Laura thinks she deserves the butter crown
not because she’s the best, but because she’s white and privileged and that’s
the way it happens in Iowa .
“This is exactly why I stopped watching American
Idol,” she says as Destiny, a black girl, is awarded the top prize. (In
another scene, Laura condescendingly tells a group of children with Down
syndrome: “You people are the small flashlights that help the dark world find
its lost car keys.”) The racial subtext doesn’t get too explicit, but it’s present
throughout the whole movie and you only have to squint a little to see some
topical national issues — voter ID laws, perhaps — bubbling to the surface in
this cauldron of butter.
As much as I enjoyed the jokes, much of Butter feels like a work in progress; in some places you can almost
see the scaffolding around the script. I didn’t quite believe how quick Destiny
took up butter carving; it needed a scene or two to explain her fascination.
And Wilde’s role should have been expanded, including her first butter carving
competition, which ends with a joke so weak that you could easily outdo it with
your own gag. Although there are flashes of comic brilliance, the movie seems
unaware of its own potential by presenting jokes in mediocre ways or by missing
great comedy opportunities.
Still, Butter is very
funny and full of likeable, though sometimes deplorable, characters. It’s rated
R, though I’m curious as to why they didn’t cut some F-words to get a PG-13
rating. Or, the reverse, they should have made it raunchier to justify the
rating. In any case, you will find much to love in Butter.
Whatever you do, though, just don’t call it margarine.
