What the hell is a movie review doing on here?  Well, this is my ship.  And just like the very awesome Jean-Luc Picard, I’m going to make it so.  *Makes finger gesture*.  We’re at the LFF, and I can’t just watch movies all day and not review any.  Well, I could, but I don’t think I’d be invited back.  Read more after the jump.

The Men Who Stare at Goats is a comedy about psychic ability.  Appropriately, I felt positively clairvoyant throughout as a viewer, because, for the most part, The Men Who Stare at Goats is a hopelessly predictable film.  That’s not to say it’s not a well executed predictable film.

The story is that of Bob Wilton (Ewan McGregor), a down-and-out local newspaper reporter, desperate to prove to himself, and his recently estranged wife, that he can be bigger and braver.  Shortly after the 2003 invasion of Iraq, he heads off to find his story and affirmation, and finds Lyn Cassidy (George Clooney), an ex-psychic soldier from the cold war era.  The two set off on a misguided trip, where Lyn sets out his history as a psychic warrior, introducing his hippy mentor Bill Django (Jeff Bridges), and nemesis Larry Hooper (Kevin Spacey).  We flit back and forth between past and present, and, of course, these two strands converge for an hilarious climax to the film.

The running joke is a dig at the (genuine) cold-reading and psychic training and experimentation that went on in the US Army during the cold war period.  Paranoid that Russia was developing super spies, America invests time and money in an opposing force.  This is largely played out by lukewarm gags where McGregor’s cynical journalist is bemused by Cassidy’s pathetic attempts at psychic ability, and hippy nonsense from hippy Bill Django, the hippy.  Oh yea, and they call themselves “Jedi”.  You know, like in Star Wars.  Ha.

But perhaps I’m too harsh.  The first thing I thought about when leaving the cinema was the bitter-sweetly clichéd casting.  McGregor is the one out of his depth.  Cloony is the witty expert.  Bridges is the bohemian.  Spacey is the evil one.   The casting is as predictable as possible, but I can’t blame the fact that those actors do their respective signature characters extremely well, as is borne out.  Performances are solid from all, there is genuine and palpable chemistry between Cassidy and Wilton and the timing is good, though you don’t need a third eye to predict the punchline.

There’s a fair dose of feel-good in the movie, and it does help to round off what is a very gentle comedy.  But it wasn’t what I wanted the movie to be.  I mean it couldn’t be considered as satire in any great sense.  Jon Ronson, who wrote the non-fiction book on which the film is based, is a cold, hard sceptic about the paranormal.  But the film never commits to this, and there are plenty of moments that allow you to sit there and think “hey, maybe he is psychic!”  Except you don’t.  Sure, Cassidy is a very likeable character; a loyal soldier, who takes Wilton under his wing.  Oh yea and he’s dying.  But where was the awkwardness?  Where was the crushing failure?  I wanted psychic schadenfreude!

Summary: Mildly silly and enjoyable to watch, but leave super powers of intuition at home.

Rating: Three psychic kittens out of five