The Giant Mechanical Man

Fischer, who also produced (she’s married to writer-director Lee Kirk), stars as a depressed thirtysomething woman drifting glumly through life until she sees Messina on local television in his robot makeup, talking about how his work is a potent metaphor for the alienation and dehumanization endemic to contemporary society. When Messina and Fischer end up working together, they form a friendship rooted in outsiderdom, underemployment, sharing the same kooky dream, and mutual melancholy tendencies.

The Giant Mechanical Man establishes Messina as the kind of self-important jerk who antagonizes cartoon yuppies at a party for bragging about their expensive televisions when they really should be reading books. He can barely conceal his rage when a TV reporter asks him to prostitute his incredible gifts by doing the wave. Neither Messina nor the film can sustain that level of twee, precious obnoxiousness for long, however, and the character shifts from unbearably pretentious to blandly affable midway through, emerging as Fischer’s soulmate largely by default: Messina may not be much, but at least he isn’t a pompous windbag like Grace. Fischer’s character isn’t much better developed: She’s essentially a sadder, greyer, more maudlin variation of her breakout role as Pam on The Office. Fischer at least has personal and romantic reasons to be involved with this film, but audiences are unencumbered by such obligations, and should heed the title’s warning sign and opt out of Kirk, Fischer, and Messina’s fruitless little circle of pain.