‘The Legend Of The Happy Worker’ review: Thomas Haden Church and Josh Whitehouse star in uneven Lynchian fable

Dir: Duwayne Dunham. US. 2025. 100mins

 Deep in the American west, seemingly at the turn of the 20^th century – although this, like much of what follows, is wilfully ambiguous – a man (Thomas Haden Church) begins to dig a hole. Over 100 years later, that same hole is now miles wide and the man’s great grandson, Mr Goose (also Haden Church) oversees a huge operation in which hundreds of men continue to dig by hand, for reasons unknown. Everyone seems happy in their honest toil, until a corrupting outside influence threatens this simple harmony. The Legend Of The Happy Worker’s languid, mildly absurdist rhythms and simple narrative may cast a spell over audiences willing to invest in its singular world view, but will undoubtedly prove a frustrating experience for others.

Too thinly drawn to make much impact

Based on the play by S.E. Feinberg, Happy Worker is perhaps most notable for being directed by Duwayne Dunham (Homeward Bound, Little Giants), long time editor for the late David Lynch (who executive produces here.) Lynch is a clear influence – indeed, the script was originally pitched to him in the 1980s, and Dunham has been trying to get it made for years – and that connection should help attract an audience following its Locarno premiere. It may well prove too slight to make much of an impact beyond the festival circuit, although streaming could prove a fertile home.

Labelled right from the off as ’a fable for our time, Happy Worker is deliberately set in an undefined time and place (although it clearly unfolds in the American west, and the film shot in Utah). Mr Goose is simple, plain-spoken man, living alone in a sparse wooden home on the edge of his massive hole, and a seemingly fair boss, instilling in his legion of employees a good ol’ fashioned work ethic. ‘To work for a life that is good’ is Goose’s entire ethos, indeed his entire personality – although, notably, he never joins in with the physical labour, just oversees those who do it in his name.

And this daily back-breaking labour does seems to sustain the entire company of hundreds; they are jovial and enthusiastic, and a noticeboard proudly declares that there have been 27,472 days without an accident. One day, however, an ageing digger dares to speak the hithertoo unspoken. “I can’t go to heaven without knowing why” he proclaims. This simple lament sends the previously loyal, unendingly happy-go-lucky worker Joe (rising British star Josh Whitehouse), down an increasingly dark rabbit hole, his encroaching doubts about Goose’s motivations threatening to undermine his entire life. He is encouraged by the arrival of Uncle Clete (Colm Meaney), a well-travelled man whose dark attire is an early indicator of the nefarious influence he will attempt to wield.

Heightened, sun-drenched visuals from cinematographer Reed Smoot, the amped-up off-kilter Americana of Chris DeMuri’s production design and the gee-whizz energy of the screenplay (by Feinberg, Dunham and Jerold Pearson) combine to give Happy Worker a dreamlike, uncanny aesthetic. It is clearly intended as a parable for our times, a celebration of traditional values of honesty and community and, to a lesser degree, a study of how exploitation and opportunism are grist to the mill of faceless capitalism. A sequence in which Joe is involved in a traditional Native American smoking ceremony and achieves some kind of enlightenment sits rather awkwardly in this philosophical landscape.

It’s a film full of noble ideas, but Happy Worker is too thinly drawn to make them with much impact. Its Lynchian elements – Goose’s oft-repeated refrain of “damn fine”, Joe’s young son who can only speak Mexican thanks to the shows he watches on a broken TV – prove distractions rather than endearing narrative quirks. And while the performances are committed (particularly from Whitehouse, who brings both plucky energy and ragged vulnerability to Joe), they never rise above the overwhelming, muddled whimsy of the piece.