by John P. Meyer

It's a world in which we wouldn't care to live. Even in our imagination.

Judging from World's Greatest Dad, which he wrote and directed, you might jump to the conclusion that Bobcat Goldthwait must be a very troubled individual.

But this would be a mistake, because as we all know an artist and his work are two separate entities. An equally likely conclusion might be that Goldthwait simply has a vivid, grim, and exceedingly profane creative bent.

World's Greatest Dad is a difficult film to either enjoy or admire, because the majority of the lead characters are so -- how shall I put this -- Despicable? Reprehensible? Worthless? Variously some or all of these things, certainly. And the message we take away from the movie upon leaving the theater is that humanity -- or at least human-based society -- is intrinsically flawed. (Which may or may not be true, but I'd prefer not to be reminded of it during a presumed escapist outing.)

The most despicable, reprehensible and worthless of the characters in World's Greatest Dad is a young man named Kyle (Daryl Sabara, who deserves SOMETHING for taking on this loathsome role and acquitting himself so believably in it -- I'm just not sure what.). Kyle is the sole offspring (it would be far too generous to call him a son) of High School poetry teacher Lance Clayton (Robin Williams). And Kyle has a nasty autoerotic asphyxiation habit. Among others.

Lance has pretty much given up on his dream of being a best-selling novelist -- though he still fantasizes about it. (Judging by his daydreams, he thinks writers get all the hot babes. Pretty funny.) In real life, Lance is having trouble attracting students to his class (because he teaches - you know - poetry), while the new instructor on the block (Henry Simmons, as Mike Lane) proves to be outrageously popular among the students. And -- more problematically for Lance -- teachers.

See, Lance is dating comely, vivacious art teacher Claire (Alexie Gilmore). She's the best thing in his life -- the only positive thing going for him, actually, given that his son is shaping up to be a serial rapist and/or mass murderer, and his career is careening dangerously towards Crapperville. Lately, Claire has been hanging out at Mike Lane's basketball practices, cheering him on. On the same evenings that she's supposed to be hanging IN with Lance.

Suddenly (though not quite unexpectedly, given prior events), life presents Lance with an extra-large, grade-A lemon. Allowing him the opportunity to make some damn fine lemonade. Which he does, by engineering an opportunistic and inspired literary fraud.

At Kyle's alma mater, melancholy becomes the mood du jour, and Lance -- thanks to his manipulation of events -- cements his relationship with Claire and achieves the kind of acclaim he'd given up all hope of achieving. Not as an author, but as the father of one.

There are memorable moments and elements of comic greatness embedded in the film: the employment of Akron/Family's Love is Simple (Don't Be Afraid, You're Already Dead) during a particularly evocative scene; the choice of Bruce Hornsby's music as an improbable counterculture foil; the fact that a glimpse of newsstand porno of the most stomach-churning sort reminds Lance, with a bitter twinge, of his absent son. Robin Williams' acting penetrates the gloom as a bright beacon in this landscape of calculated moral and ethical darkness. His mature dramatic performance (utterly devoid of humorous strokes) puts one in mind of his similar accomplishments in The World According to Garp, The Fisher King, and Good Will Hunting. I just wish he'd left his clothes on.

But none of this makes up for the fact that the world envisioned in World's Greatest Dad is one that we wouldn't dream of living in.

Even if -- in some twisted, underlying fashion -- we actually do.