The Brass Teapot (2013)

Tempest in a 'Teapot': Juno Temple in "The Brass Teapot."

Juno Temple, the fetching British actress, Indie-movie ingénue and Hayden Panettiere look-alike, plays a poor but happy young newlywed in first-time director Ramaa Mosley's “The Brass Teapot,” a sometimes funny but ultimately uneven comic fantasy about post recession struggles and the evil influence of vast capital gains.

Living in a modest house somewhere in Indiana (the movie was actually shot in Upstate New York), the seemingly blissful union of Alice (Temple) and John (Michael Angarano) is tested by a shrinking job market and vaguely mounting money worries. While John spends the day bottling up frustrations as a middling call center employee—riding a bike to work and absorbing constant abuse from his loathsome boss—Alice has yet to find an opportunity to trade in her college degree for a substantial salary.

Fortunately, when the couple somehow avoids evisceration after a truck smashes into their tiny Pinto, it spells the beginning of a lucky streak. Sure enough, Alice shakes off the accident and heads into a roadside antiques store, stealing a shiny brass teapot that catches her eye. Naturally, the teapot turns out to have magical powers, but instead of a genie popping out granting wishes, the ancient gizmo dispenses crisp hundred-dollar bills whenever the couple hurts themselves.

Soon the couple finds all sorts of unique ways to bash and bruise each other in order to cash in. And the more they pummel themselves—Alice batters John with devastating haymakers, burns herself with a curling iron and punches a hole through a kitchen cabinet—the more greenbacks come spitting out of the teapot like some sadistic fountain. Early on, the movie gets a lot of laughs by playing much of the violence for broad slapstick.

But amidst the painful revelry, there are ominous corners in Tim Macy’s screenplay. “This will end badly,” John warns before the couple is consumed by greed. Eventually, they ditch their humble lodgings, along with any sense of fiscal restraint, and move into a lavish mansion in an upscale part of town. They also leave old friends behind and take up with snobby new ones.

There’s an intriguing moral dilemma and a touch of social commentary at work here, but Mosley seems hesitant to explore anything subtle or personal. The closest the movie gets to a psychological subtext occurs when Alice and John, confronted with inexplicably dwindling payouts, realize that the teapot will now only reward them for leveling emotional pain at each other.

The revelations that follow—a string of hurtful secrets detailing everything from personality flaws to infidelity—threaten to compromise their marriage. Meanwhile, Mosley’s use of metaphoric storm clouds gathering and looming over the characters adds an unexpected visual flourish.

But Mosley abandons a chance to steer the material towards legitimate dark comedy. Instead, the film gets bogged down by a tedious plot involving a pair of false-bearded Jewish goons trying to reclaim the teapot, bumbling redneck villains trying to steal it, and a cryptic Chinese emissary wanting to take it away.

By the time the movie gets to its surprisingly angry, exaggerated climax—a bloody gun battle that has shadings of Tarantino without any of the style—the slapstick comedy that worked in the first hour has long since grinded into excess and the overwhelming feeling is more resignation than redemption. “The Brass Teapot” goes to great lengths introducing possibilities, but never far enough to realize them.