The Deep Whatsis

April 29, 2013
Eric Nye, the conceited, perpetually titillated “chief idea officer” of a New York ad agency, fashions himself an artist but in reality earns his living firing people, in Mattei’s morbidly satiric look at corporate culture at the crossroads of art and consumerism. An art snob and metrosexual, Nye relishes fine things—his “Dalai Lama Edition Tibetan” rug, expensive Oma Blue Fin sushi, and now an intern with a face like “God smiling on sunshine.” After a night with her becomes a prolonged crush, Nye finds himself unable to resist her stalkerlike infatuation and begins to push the limits of his power. When the intern shows up with a conspicuous shiner, “HR Lady,” normally Nye’s partner in crime, threatens to end the fun and go to the boss, “deranged pit bull” Barry Spinotti. It will take some ruthlessness and deft schmoozing for Nye to escape. When not cultivating his “Milgram-esque biosphere of doom” at work, Nye spends his time tormenting an old friend, lambasting Williamsburg’s “fashionable white... little fishies,” and indulging in prescription drugs. In this debut, Mattei serves up a rampant critique of haute New York society, but a frustratingly conventional finale makes you wonder if Nye has learned anything at all. Agent: Richard Abate, 3 Arts Entertainment.

June 15, 2013
A hotshot NYC adman-turned-corporate axeman wallows in drugs, drama and a dangerous crush as he watches his shiny hipster life blow apart at the seams. Nominally a satire, filmmaker Mattei's debut novel's enormous hurdle is that its protagonist is such a selfish, disagreeable SOB. Our main man is Eric Nye, the "Chief Idea Officer" at a trendy Manhattan advertising agency whose real charge is to downsize 50 percent of the company. Nye plays his role as the agency's bigwig with aplomb, but he's a complete train wreck, doped to the gills with antidepressants and alcohol, with a penchant for pointing out his raging erection and compulsive masturbation. What's meant to be archetypal is largely passe as Eric visits the conceptual art show called "Show Us Your Tits" and chugs Sancerre between visits to the massage parlor. During one of his drunken escapades, he has a liaison with Sabine, a cute (and very young) intern, who becomes another of Eric's risky obsessions. When Sabine shows up at work with a black eye, the HR department exiles Eric off to a commercial shoot in Los Angeles. A crippling panic attack in an airplane bathroom is just a precursor to a full-blown meltdown that ends with Nye's hospitalization. Mattei hints at unreliable narration with a mysterious Wikipedia page recounting Eric's bad behavior, a psychiatrist who turns out to be unlicensed and clues from a horrible childhood incident that drives Nye's demons. Unfortunately, Nye's sneering disdain for the trappings of his own lifestyle and the melodramatic portrayal of his anxiety disorder are off-putting enough that even a final twist can't salvage the story. Like hair metal, cocaine nights and Miami Vice, this yuppie burnout saga is past its sell-by date.

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