I know very little about philosophy; bits and pieces of Plato and Aristotle; fragments of Neitzche. I remember getting in a philosophical debate with friends at one point and being able to follow it but not understanding the appeal of arguing what seemed to me to be inarguable points, points that seemed based almost entirely an individual's personal disposition.

I was certainly a bit naive in that assessment, and while I still have yet to sit through a single philosophy class, I've progressed intellectually to the point where I can enjoy, and appreciate the value in discussing, theories on life of of an applicably abstract nature. To that end, I very much enjoyed David O. Russell's discoursive I ♥ Huckabees, and even would venture to say that I understand what he wanted to accomplish; furthermore, while some might call the film dense and inaccessible, I would argue that it's actually pretty light stuff. Perhaps this movie could be viewed as a syllabus for a beginners' course in philosophy transposed upon locations and characters, with the workflow transformed into a plot of sorts, complete with a beautiful Jon Brion musical score (a sure way to make any class more interesting).

As the surrogate pupil, we have Albert Markovski (Jason Schwartzman). Albert is a highly excitable environmentalist, a young man who's reached a point where the causes he believes in far outweighs his own sense of self. He's a member of a group called Coalition For Open Spaces, and he's heading up a project to save a marshland from being paved over by the latest installment in a chain of suburban shopping centers called Huckabees (re: Wal-Mart). He's not doing so well; as the movie opens, he's only secured the safety of one large rock, the Coalition wants to remove him from the job, and to top it off he keeps seeing this tall Sudanese man in random places. Suddenly struck with implications of connectivity and coincidence (or lack thereof), he seeks help from an Existential Detective Agency, run by Bernard and Vivian Jaffe (Dustin Hoffman and Lily Tomlin), who explain to him that everything in the universe is the same, even if it's different, and that they'll need to follow him around 24-7 to get to determine the root of his crisis of existence. Albert asks that they respectfully stay away from his job and limit their attention to him while he's in the bathroom, but such wishes are null and void in a universe where everything is connected.

Let's jump back to that theory: Everything's the same, even if it's different. Bernard illustrates this prinicpal with a large white blanket, which he uses to demonstrate how everything in the universe is ultimately made of the same material. I believe we're dealing with some Eastern philosophies here, an excellent starting place -- but then, from over here (imagine me emphatically gesturing across space) comes the nihilists, represented by French author Caterine Vauban (Isabelle Huppert), whose book on how everything is nothing has already 'corrupted' the case of Tommy Corn (Mark Whalberg), another of the the Jaffe's clients. Tommy is an incredibly earnest fireman obsessed with extricating petroleum from daily use -- a noble cause, and one that inspires the Jaffes to align him and the nature-loving Albert as spiritual 'others.'

Also on their sliding scale of clients is Brad Stand (Jude Law), a charming executive who is quickly climbing the corporate ranks of Huckabees. If Tommy is Albert's other, than Brad is his dark half. He's a solid, well grounded fellow who's sense of self satisfaction turns out to be grounded entirely on the time he played a practical joke on Shania Twain (it's a long story, and one you'll hear him tell several times throughout the film). He turns to the detectives because Albert has, and he has a vested interest in Albert, since he wants to take over the Coalition For Open Spaces in order to a.) increase Huckabees' conscientious public image and b.) ensure that the marsh gets paved over for a future store location. He doesn't take the existentialism seriously, but he also doesn't count on the effect the detectives will have on his girlfriend Dawn, who is a Huckabees spokesmodel acutely aware that she doesn't have much going for her beyond her good looks.

So let's run down the list of characters again: Albert, Tommy, Brad, Vivian, Bernard, Katarine, Dawn, and the tall Sudanese man (who it turns out is an exchange student adopted by a strict Christian family). What do they all have to do with each other? Everything, since they're not necessarily characters at all but facets of Russell's philosophical treatise; each one represents not a person but an idea, and by the end of the film they've all converged, because everything, even if it's nothing, is the same. It's not all that hard to wrap one's head around what this film, but I suspect audiences will not like it one bit, because it's intrinsically difficult to become personally involved in an idea's manifestation, particularly when one is expecting to be caught up in a personal journey (as most films involving people are about). It is personal because it relates to all of us, but whether people will be willing to relate to it is another question.

There are sequences in the film where reality fragments into little particles that deliriously drift across the screen and intersect with each other, and it is in these scenes that I think the both the characters and the movie reach their truest state (other special effects sequences, including one in which Schwartzman suckles at Jude Law's breast, are merely amusing). I think Russell wants to open people's minds to the possibilities that may exist outside the here and now, but because most people who haven't already considered those possibilities don't want to see a movie about a bunch of intersecting particles, Russell's desired effect may not be achieved. There were two walk-outs at the screening I attended, and I suspect that filmgoers across the country, in talking about I ♥ Huckabees, will bandy about that horrid word referred to by people when talking about odd things they don't understand: quirky. This movie is most definitely not quirky; it is unusual, but not for the sake of being so. It is very funny, but it also takes its subject matter very seriously.

While I love the film for its exclusive dedication to ideas, and Russell for tackling it so imaginatively and the cast for being so up to the challenge, I cannot be sure it is entirely a success; it is in its own right flawless, but so single minded are the pursuits of Russell's effigies that a sort of separation between the screen and audience gradually becomes more and more inevitable. Consider the films of another filmmaker fascinated by philosophy, Richard Linklater, whose characters often talk at great length about people like the people in this film; a third party helps make things relatable. At the end of the film, the two most emotionally relatable characters, the endlessly sincere Tommy Corn and the by now delusional Dawn, come close to becoming real people and share an embrace that should be more cathartic than it is. I'm just postulating here, so maybe a philosophy major can correct me if I'm wrong, but it seems to me that the film-as-syllabus gets us through nihilism, but stops just short of transcendentalism.