Movie review: 'Thank You for Smoking' creates a smoke scream

There's no doubt that Nick Naylor is reprehensible. How, then, does the wickedly entertaining "Thank You for Smoking" make us cheer for him?

A conniving spin doctor employed by Big Tobacco to manipulate public opinion, Nick (Aaron Eckhart) presents himself as a champion of tobacco farmers, cigarette manufacturers and smokers, whose rights are in danger of being stubbed out by overreaching politicians, puritans and health zealots. It's not about cancer, declares Nick, it's about liberty!

The perverse genius of the film is that even though we see through Nick's gamesmanship, we're swept along by his ultra-confident chutzpah. To watch the film is to feel the delicious discomfort of being seduced by a devilish charmer.

Nick's enthusiastic defense of his seemingly indefensible cause intrigues a young reporter (Katie Holmes) who asks how he can live with himself. Nick offers what he calls "the yuppie Nuremburg defense": he has to pay the mortgage.

Thinking her question through, the divorced Nick is inspired to reconnect with his son, teaching him what Dad does for a living and how he can develop those persuasive skills himself. What is framed as a heartwarming moment is actually chilling as Nick passes along to his son the "moral flexibility" needed to do his job. In time, the boy becomes the debate champion of his prep school, St. Euthanasius.

Based on a novel by Christopher Buckley, "Thank You for Smoking" is unusually plot-heavy for a satire. Robert Duvall appears as a tobacco magnate attempting to ease his conscience by sending a briefcase full of cash to the iconic Marlboro Man, now in the last stages of cancer. A shadowy group wants to kill Nick in a grimly ironic manner. His fling with the reporter puts his work in peril. And he learns new levels of gamesmanship through dealings with a Hollywood superagent and his smarmy underling (cameos so perfect they shouldn't be spoiled).

Writer/director Jason Reitman wisely keeps the action at a jumpy, caffeinated pace, holding our ethical misgivings at bay. It's a classic case of a good story well told. In a difficult role, Eckhart gives as flawless a performance as I can imagine. He's proved himself as a versatile actor already, adept at square-jawed action heroes or Neil LaBute's smiling backstabbers, but he's never been so compelling as he is here. Eckhart is vibrant in every scene, as are his ideally cast costars.

Watch the viper-and-mongoose dance he performs with Sam Elliott as the ailing Marlboro man. While offering him the briefcase of blood money, Nick urges him to refuse the cash and denounce the bribe on television; all the while he knows the dying cowboy won't be able to resist the payoff. Tobacco has taken the man's body and Nick shows up at death's door to steal his soul.

And yet we admire him. Nick is a perverse hero -- manly, clever, daring, and charismatic. Narrating his adventures, he spins the darkly hilarious narrative to the most flattering advantage, slathering tones of sincerity on Nick's duplicity. In the end, everything is happily resolved, on Nick's terms at least. And while that should have made me very nervous, I laughed so hard I nearly coughed up a lung.

The setup: A dark comedy about a tobacco-industry whitewash artist with the Pied Piper's charm and Machiavelli's ethics.

What works: A flawless blend of savage humor, top-notch acting and energetic direction.

Great line: "The beauty of an argument is, if you argue correctly you're never wrong."

Rating: R for language and sexual content.

Colin Covert • 612-673-7186