The Secret Life of Walter Mitty

Directed by Norman Z. McLeod, The Secret Life of Walter Mitty follows Danny Kaye’s henpecked (and daydream-prone) title character as he’s drawn into a sinister conspiracy. It’s a fun premise that is, by and large, squandered by McLeod, as the filmmaker, armed with Ken Englund and Everett Freeman’s screenplay, delivers a slow-moving endeavor that grows less and less interesting as it unfolds – with the arms-length atmosphere compounded by lackluster comedic set-pieces and a heavy (and increasingly tiresome) emphasis on the aforementioned conspiracy. There’s little doubt, then, that The Secret Life of Walter Mitty‘s periodically tolerable vibe is due almost entirely to Kaye’s affable, energetic turn as the likeable (and sympathetic) central protagonist, and it doesn’t hurt, either, that McLeod has admittedly sprinkled the proceedings with a very small handful of legitimately funny jokes and gags (eg Walter starts whistling to disguise the sound of a hot kettle). And while the picture does improve slightly within its final stretch, mostly due to a terrific scene between Kaye and Boris Karloff’s villainous figure, The Secret Life of Walter Mitty has, by that point, cemented its place as a lackluster adaptation that probably should’ve topped out at 80 or 90 minutes.

** out of ****