Depressed to a point of paralysis over his wife’s premature passing, the grief-stricken Ben (The Royal Tenenbaums’ Grant Rosenmeyer) follows an internet rabbit hole to a mysterious man offering an escape — not suicide, but the power to fly. Not of sound mind, Ben spends $5,400 on the shady self-help course.
Soon, the would-be guru appears at Ben’s door with a litany of tasks as highly unorthodox as his name: Mealworm. The ravings of a lunatic? The work of a prophet? Or perhaps all in Ben’s imagination? The answer awaits in The Secret Art of Human Flight, an ambitious fantasy from director H.P. Mendoza (I Am a Ghost) and first-time screenwriter/America Ninja Warrior contestant Jesse Orenshein.
When venturing into magical realism, some amounts of quirk and whimsy are expected — if not required — to pull things off. But leaning too heavily upsets the balance, sending viewers tumbling into the twee. That’s what happens here, following a promising start.
As Mealworm, Paul Raci (rightly Oscar-nommed for the powerful Sound of Metal) is excellent. In the moments Secret Art delights, it’s no coincidence Raci is onscreen. And when he’s not, the film often frustrates; Rosenmeyer’s character is simply not likable. A deep funk is a fine establishing point, but as the story progresses, and Ben is revealed to be even more of an asshole, cheering him on is too large an ask.
If nothing else, The Secret Art of Human Flight is worth watching for its end credits song, a slice of such pop jubilance that I would’ve sworn under testimony as the work of The Polyphonic Spree. Instead, it’s Mendoza, Raci and Rosenmeyer. If only the film the tune supports were as uplifting and transportive. —Rod Lott
