Mister America Carries the Stink of Truth in American Politics – Nashville Scene

The mockumentary continues the On Cinema parody of American politics, tonight at the Belcourt

Magnolia Pictures

Most reviews of Mister America, the new documentary from comic weirdos Tim Heidecker and Gregg Turkington and the first theatrically released extension of their On Cinema universe, begins with describing precisely how difficult it is to explain On Cinema to, well, anybody who hasn’t seen every episode of On Cinema. For the uninitiated: In 2011, Heidecker (who you probably know from his work with Adult Swim) and Turkington (whose character Neil Hamburger you may know) launched a movie-review podcast called On Cinema, which soon spun off into a web series On Cinema at the Cinema.

The first season of the show had its satirical sights set on smaller targets — it’s a fairly standard parody of podcasting and online film blogging, two worlds where would-be “experts” who don’t actually know much about anything tend to thrive. Both Heidecker and Turkington perform under their own names, but they’re not playing themselves: Tim is boorish, belligerent and rarely watches the movies he’s reviewing; Gregg is a die-hard film buff and self-described “expert” with a massive VHS collection and an encyclopedic knowledge of mediocre American comedies. But the true genius of On Cinema — and the reason why it’s developed an active cult following that manages to keep up with the massive amounts of content related to the show — isn’t in that basic premise. It’s how, slowly and subtly, it has mutated into something much different — darker and deeper than a podcast spoof could ever be.

Over the course of 11 seasons of On Cinema at the Cinema, six seasons of Decker, countless podcast episodes, multiple Oscar specials and live shows, and now Mister America, Heidecker has transformed himself from the babyfaced weirdo of Tim and Eric’s Awesome Show, Great Job! into a living, breathing, vaping avatar of the Trump era. Over time, Tim’s life unravels: He’s left by three wives, falls under the sway of a dangerous healer named Dr. Luther San, gets addicted to vaping, commits numerous acts of arson, destroys Gregg’s VHS collection multiple times over, and has a son named Tom Cruise Heidecker Jr., all while espousing brain-wormed libertarian talking points. 

Last year, the On Cinema crew released “The Trial,” an hours-long mock trial in which Heidecker is charged with distributing faulty vape pens at an EDM festival that resulted in the deaths of 19 teenagers. On Cinema has become one of the most insightful political artworks of our time precisely because it takes such a roundabout and indirect approach to politics; nothing about its universe could be considered “on the nose.” Watching Tim’s transformation over a period of years has been like watching a dumbass uncle turn full Tucker Carlson. 

All that context leads us to Mister America. Acquitted from a litany of murder charges due to a mistrial, Heidecker is determined to over-throw the allegedly corrupt regime that would have imprisoned him; this mockumentary follows his ill-advised attempt to exact revenge against his accusers by running for District Attorney of San Bernadino County. Given the numerous schemes he’s hatched and his undying support of one Donald J. Trump, a political campaign seems like a foregone conclusion for the Bizarro Tim Heidecker. 

Heidecker has exactly one supporter: campaign manager Terri Newman, coincidentally the sole juror in Tim’s trial to believe in his innocence. The two are kindred spirits: Tim has his vapes, Terri has a generously poured glass of wine, and both are constantly muttering about how the “demographics” of San Bernardino County have “changed.” Tim and Terri are dog-whistling to an audience that never emerges — their right-wing views land like a wet fart in a largely Latino community. The most support he gets is from a few business owners who unwittingly let him hang signs in their windows. His campaign slogan? “We have a rat problem.”

There’s something so uncannily Trumpian in the specificity of Heidecker’s performance, more potent than any Alec Baldwin parody could ever be. After seeing him tilt into Alex Jones territory, it’s shocking to revisit Tim and Eric Awesome Show, Great Job!, in which he often plays softer, more innocent characters. Tim’s khaki suits, Oakley shades, slicked hair and manicured beard would be right at home in the Tennessee state legislature. Unlike so many comedic takes on contemporary conservatives, Heidecker’s performance bears the unmistakable stink of truth, no matter how absurd the circus around him becomes. 

Even if it’s entirely fictional, there’s a real sense of danger to On Cinema. Mister America makes the mistake of straying too far into reality while not going quite far enough — the only way to approximate the discomfort of Tim and Gregg’s web show would probably be for Tim to mount an actual stunt campaign. The specifics of the script, like On Cinema at the Cinema, are improvised from a basic scenario, but when Heidecker is chased out of a restaurant and called a murderer, the stakes — or lack thereof — are uncomfortably obvious.

Despite the years of backstory leading up to this documentary, Mister America does provide the most succinct summation thus far of the On Cinema mythology, even if it can’t quite approximate the experience of the show itself. Heidecker, Turkington and director Eric Notornicola may not fully deliver on their premise, but their mockumentary still has merit, if only as another vehicle for Heidecker’s decade-defining performance as a demented version of himself. 

Mister America

R, 86 minutes 

Playing 7 p.m. & 9 p.m. Wedensday, Oct. 9, at the Belcourt