A true ... ish story about a British con man, name of Alan Conway, whose gimmick of passing himself off as the reclusive director of 2001, A Clockwork Orange, Dr. Strangelove, etc., proved to be an effective method of cadging drinks, cruising gay bedmates, eliciting cash. At any rate it proved effective until he tried passing himself off to the then New York Times drama critic, Frank Rich, after which the net tightened. John Malkovich, not quite trusting the inherent funniness of the situation, seeks to punch it up with funny voices and funny pants and funny hats, the vaudevillian's stock-in-trade. These devices tend to raise your doubts more than your spirits. Jim Davidson, however, looking rather like a blond William Shatner (past-prime but pre-grotesque), helps greatly with the funniness as a self-deluding singer-comedian who believes that this "Kubrick" will pave the way to Vegas. We can measure the delusion for ourselves in his rendition of "Viva Las Vegas," the barrel-chested belter padding flat-footed across the stage as if over thin ice. Director Brian Cook and screenwriter Anthony Frewin, both long-time assistants to the real Kubrick, see to it that the film buff is well fed (the faux-Kubrick will be accompanied by the opening strains of Also Sprach Zarathustra on a half-block walk to the laundromat, past the Bleu Danube bar), but there's little to be gained from this diet beyond a fat head. (2007) — Duncan Shepherd