Flawed script turns well-acted 'K-PAX' into a near miss
Like most aliens from faraway planets, he ends up in a psychiatric ward, where he gets busy bettering the lives of those around him.
Spacey, whose regular-guy looks are weirdly appropriate here (he's even got a little earth-shaped bald spot), gives a meticulously controlled, surprising performance. As Prot, he's soft-spoken and formal of speech, bobbing his head while talking as if accustomed to different air. It's an amusing shtick, although not too different from the kind of deadpan work we've seen from Spacey before.
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In the movie's final third, though, in a pivotal hypnosis scene, Spacey does something quite uncanny: a tiny, sad voice emerges from him. It's a voice I hadn't heard from him before — in this movie or in other movies — and his character's subsequent emotion is all the more affecting for the stoicism that preceded it.
Jeff Bridges, as the psychiatrist trying to figure out if Prot is the real deal, has a far less showy role, but he's also terrific in a laid-back way. (I wondered, during Bridges' frequent small grins, if he was remembering his own turn as a good-guy alien in "Starman.")
This exemplary film acting, however, is in the service of a screenplay that never quite takes us anywhere new, making "K-PAX" a frustrating near miss. Charles Leavitt's script is all over the place, with unnecessary explorations of Dr. Powell's family life (did we really need the frustrated wife AND the estranged son?) and a tendency to sentimentalize the psych-ward patients. Some of the dialogue ("It's mass hysteria!" says a doctor when the patients get into a tizzy) is just silly.
But director Iain Softley ("The Wings of the Dove") is a talent to watch, guiding his cast through some potentially gooey scenes with a light, dry touch. And director of photography John Mathieson ("Gladiator") infuses "K-PAX" with a shadowy beauty. A scene near the end, of a man slowly wading into dark water until his head finally submerges, is as lovely a shot as any I've seen this year.
Moira Macdonald can be reached at 206-464-2725 or mmacdonald@seattletimes.com.