For anyone who may have forgotten what a terrific actor Michael Douglas is, his starring role in the otherwise negligible King of California serves as an indelible reminder. It feels like the Oscar-winning Douglas, who was atop the Hollywood totem pole for more than 10 years running (roughly from Romancing the Stone through An American President, with pivotal stops along the way for Wall Street, Fatal Attraction, and Basic Instinct) has been known more lately for his role as Mr. Catherine Zeta-Jones than for any great acting parts. Though he was Academy-nominated again in 2000 for playing a blocked professor in Wonder Boys, the last half-dozen years have been filled with a clutch of undistinguished appearances in mediocre stuff like The Sentinel and You, Me and Dupree.
Taking King of California was a risk for Douglas, not only because it's such precious, potentially deadly material, but also because it was independently financed with no guarantee of major distribution. This is probably the first film he's ever done without studio backing, at least since the beginning of his illustrious career. Douglas is nothing if not smart, though, and he knows a good role when he sees one—and King of California's bipolar dreamer Charlie is just that.
Fortunately, Douglas (with or without the help of first-time writer/director Mike Cahill—there were reportedly issues between them) found a calibrated way into playing his teetering character without having to default to the typical wild-eyed, loveable nutso thing. Charlie may have just been sprung from a mental hospital armed with a treasure map and a flighty plan that would give Don Quixote pause, but he never gets cute or grand about it. Douglas keeps Charlie, whose need for the support of his resourceful teenage daughter Miranda (Evan Rachel Wood) is as pressing as his mission to unearth a stash of 17th century gold doubloons, with one foot on the ground, even as he's reaching for the stars.
He's certifiable, sure, but the guy's done his homework and is shrewd enough to know how to bring his latest scheme (his life has been littered with a string of failed efforts—including his marriage to Miranda's long-missing mother) within reach. That includes persuading the exasperated Miranda, who's eluded school and social authorities for years and supported herself by working double shifts at McDonald's, to become his prospecting partner, and help him dig up the allegedly buried gold from beneath, of all places, a Costco. If you think this ultra-responsible girl won't eventually turn around and pair off with her loony dad you haven't seen many movies.
Wood holds her own against Douglas with her usual aplomb and, if this were an overall better film, they wouldn't be illogical Oscar contenders (as it is, Douglas will probably get an awards push from some corner). Unfortunately, the wispy story never really takes off and, despite its fable-like tone, asks the viewer to make too many leaps of faith and logic.
When Miranda and Charlie show up at the neighborhood Costco (the movie is set in L.A.'s suburban, mall-sprawling Santa Clarita Valley) and practically commandeer it to measure out the exact coordinates of the would-be treasure trove, the staff and shoppers are mostly unfazed. The father-daughter team is even admitted without a membership card! Has Cahill ever even been to the infamous big box store? True, Miranda maintains she and, in his own way, Charlie have lived invisible lives, but this is taking it too far.
King of California gets an "A" for effort—as well as for its fine lead performances—but the movie just never rises above a trying premise and an unconvincing narrative.
— GARY GOLDSTEIN
For anyone who may have forgotten what a terrific actor 