Sundance Delivers a First-of-Its-Kind: A Comedy About Cabbages

PARK CITY, Utah—Bubble & Squeak is the ne plus ultra of cabbage cinema. That is, admittedly, not a difficult rank to achieve, given that very few films in the history of the medium have chosen to wholeheartedly concentrate on the leafy green vegetable.

Based on his play of the same name, Evan Twohy’s debut feature is thus in a class by itself, and its fixation is so bizarre, and its premise so daffy, that it should, in theory, be an absurdist riot. Alas, while cabbage may be nutritious, it makes for a bland center of comedic attention, and no amount of narrative wackiness and star power can make it or this Sundance Film Festival offering funny.

There is one genuine laugh-out-loud moment in Bubble & Squeak, and it involves Dave Franco wearing a bearskin bikini bottom and cockily announcing that he’s going to dive into a lake, only to perform a pitch-perfect belly flop. Such inspired inanity, however, is rarely present in this loopy affair.

In an unidentified Eastern European country where the sun rarely sets, honeymooners Declan (Yesterday’s Himesh Patel) and Delores (Barry’s Sarah Goldberg) are detained in a customs office. After waiting an hour by themselves, they’re visited by an agent (Steven Yeun) with one scarred, milky eye and a pleasant demeanor. Yuen’s government official explains that they’ve been held on suspicion of smuggling cabbages in their pants into the country—a big no-no because, during a prior war, the citizens had to eat cabbages and now despise the taste so vehemently that they’ve outlawed them.

To resolve the matter, Declan and Delores are told that they can sign a letter confessing to the crime and pay a fine, at which point one of them will be publicly executed. Since their sole alternate option is to face the wrath of Shazbor (Matt Berry), the feared police chief who loves to cut off smugglers’ fingertips and then beat them with a rusty bat, Declan decides that the smartest course of action is escape. Delores is less enthusiastic about this plan.

Nonetheless, as a cut to a head-to-toe shot of her reveals, her pants are full of cabbages, and therefore she must comply. The duo flees into the woods, and in hot pursuit are a collection of cops led by Shazbor, who unlike his compatriots—whose accents sound vaguely Russian-y—speaks like Werner Herzog, completely with self-serious pronouncements such as, “Like hungry rabbits, we will destroy their cabbages.”

Puzzlingly, Berry is mostly consigned to the sidelines, meaning his impression never amounts to anything more than an inside-joke affectation. In the woods, Declan and Delores talk about mundane things regarding home and neighbors, as well as the urgency of their plight, which bothers him more than her.

After some time, they stumble upon a cabin—one of hundreds, Declan explains (courtesy of his guidebook reading), that were left deserted by people who committed suicide during the war. Later, when they come upon another residence, they’re surprised to find that it’s inhabited by a family that loathes cabbages. Delores’ claim that her legs are lumpy because of tumors convinces the gun-toting matriarch to invite them to a meal. Yet their young son, schooled in the ways of hating cabbage, suspects that they’re the wanted smugglers featured on the news, thereby unnerving the tourists.

Broken into episodic chapters, Bubble & Squeak frequently feels as if it’s on the verge of being hilarious but doesn’t quite know how to get there. Scene after scene elicits, at best, a wan smile that acknowledges the effort, if not the result. Twohy’s script devises a variety of scenarios that sound like inspired lunacy on the page. In practice, though, they mostly fall flat, devoid of sharp one-liners and incapable of building up ridiculous momentum or delivering out-of-left-field surprises. Patel and Goldberg can’t do anything with the material they’re given, and their awkward rapport grows more tiresome as their characters trudge onward, grappling with their perilous circumstances and, also, their different temperaments and desires.

Declan and Delores’ marriage faces its biggest threat when they encounter Norman (Franco), an experienced cabbage smuggler who’s previously run afoul of Shazbor and now carries out his illicit business undercover in a bear suit. Delores finds Norman fetching because he’s living precisely the sort of adventurous life she craves. Franco is cheerily sleazily and his presence gives the proceedings a temporary jolt. Even in this passage, however, the film undercuts potential humor by telegraphing its big twist.

From there, Declan and Delores come to realize that perhaps they aren’t a perfect match. Some of this has to do with Declan’s interest in buying a new lawnmower and fascination with his “death watch” (which tells him how many days he has left to live), and some of it is related to Delores’ failure, at their wedding, to remember the choreographed steps to the dance they were supposed to perform for their guests. More importantly, none of it is the least bit amusing, and after a while, it becomes downright tedious.

Bubble & Squeak climaxes with its protagonists evading capture by taking refuge in a church made entirely out of straw. When a nun won’t feed them food, they opt to save themselves by devouring Dolores’ entire stash of cabbage. The ensuing feast compels them to both reminisce about their happy past and to imagine their lengthy future, and it strains mightily for pathos that hasn’t been earned by the preceding action. The same goes for the film’s epilogue, in which Declan and Delores turn out to have found happiness by following their hearts’ desire (and by accepting the other’s choices)—a conclusion whose smushiness is at odds with the generally farcical tone.

Strangest of all, Bubble & Squeak does almost nothing inspired with cabbage; throughout, it’s just the random thing that everyone hates. Why Delores has sabotaged her honeymoon by smuggling the one item that’s verboten in this foreign land is never explained, and presumably, that’s supposed to be another of the film’s inexplicably droll elements. Instead, it merely augments the tossed-off nature of the entire affair. Rather than using something mundane as a catalyst for unexpected silliness, it simply suggests that maybe vegetables really aren’t satisfying or good for you.