Draw your own conclusions… THE VILLAGE BARBERSHOP

Star power is usually associated with single-named celebrities and actors who can drive tent-poles faster than John Henry on a Red Bull binge. We accord mega-wattage to those luminaries whose incandescent smiles and phosphorescent arrogance allow them to pump their pet projects — whether saving whales or enslaving the Welsh — without reason or shame. Too rarely, though, do we acknowledge the pull of character actors whose considerable charms and equal talents engage us regardless of the merits of the movies in which they appear. In this light, John Ratzenberger is a star, even if not a household name.

Most familiar to folks as Cliff Clavin, the pedantic postal worker and bar-stool fixture on Cheers, Ratzenberger has provided comedic voice work for every single Pixar film from A BUG’S LIFE  to next summer’s UP. Lost in the ease and grace of these performances is the fact he can truly act. THE VILLAGE BARBERSHOP affords him an opportunity to display his range. For once, Ratzenberger needn’t approximate the neighborhood blow-hard or the simple-souled doof. Here, he is a grumpy widow, an old-school hair-cutter — not stylist! — battling a loathsome landlord and a compulsive gambling ritual. When his long-time partner dies, he must stop splitting hairs with customers or end up on the street, head down, spitting nickels. Enter Shelly (Gilmore Girls) Cole, a young, somewhat unhinged, hipster who’s dealing with her own dilemma, her recent impregnation by a trucker beau about to kick her to the curb… or the outskirts of the trailer park. Together, the old man and the cosmetologist must learn to forgive their obvious differences in order to secure a new lease on life… or, at least, a new lease on the salon.

Cole is effective, sweet and pretty; some of her tics reminiscent of Janeane Garofalo. But it is Ratzenberger who compels despite a script that doles out significant plot points as sparingly as Oliver Twist‘s gruel-servers. Please, Chris Ford, may I have some more? Presumably, the first-time filmmaker wishes to present a slice-of-Reno-life, but his characters, particularly his hero, are perpetual victims of circumstance moreso than masters of their fates. A little passivity is one thing, but eventually, most audiences would like the lead to do something, anything rather than constantly be coaxed or cajoled. Ford’s story-telling shortcomings are minimized by his strong cast and the savvy contributions of his cinematographer, Cliff Traiman, and songstress Brittany Shane.

THE VILLAGE BARBERSHOP is a testament to under-appreciated star power; a wish for a world in which everybody knew John Ratzenberger‘s name.