This is like a really slight, slapdash version of Borat.
John Malkovich has a grand (-standing) old time as he dominates virtually every scene as Alan Conway, a gay, broke British lush passing himself off as reclusive director Stanley Kubrick in order to seduce gullible men of their virtue and money. For a while, as he switches voices and body language between coy effeminacy and brash, blustery New York machoism, the film is fun. But where's the story? And where's the pathos? Although it's based on a real case of Kubrick impersonation from the early 1990s, when the famous but slow-working director seemed more mythic than real, the film does nothing to make you believe Malkovich's Conway could fool anyone. Director Brian Cook served as an assistant director to Kubrick while screenwriter Anthony Frewin was Kubrick's personal assistant on 2001, but neither shows much aptitude for dramatic pacing or character development. They just let Malkovich do his thing with abandon, which goes on way too long. (SR) Grade: D+