‘Poolman’ review: Chris Pine plays a laid-back L.A. sleuth

Chris Pine might love Los Angeles more than anyone else does. He also loves movies about Los Angeles, talking about movies about Los Angeles, going to the movies in Los Angeles and making movies about making movies in Los Angeles, which is all laid out in his affable directorial debut, “Poolman,” a love letter and homage to (and satire of) stoner L.A. noirs. Pine co-wrote the script with Ian Gotler and stars in the title role as goofy Darren Barrenman, a.k.a. DB, a slacker pool cleaner with eyes the same cerulean shade as the chlorinated body of water he tends to with an almost religious ecstasy.

This Ken’s job is “pool,” and in “Poolman,” a riff on “Chinatown” that keeps announcing itself as such, DB has to follow the water. Our unlikely hero is the Dude from “The Big Lebowski” as a manic pixie dream boy, an effervescently charming and inexplicably quirky chap. With his willingness to be vulnerable, childlike enthusiasm and unique wardrobe, DB also calls to mind another memorable L.A. character: Pee-wee Herman.

DB lives in an RV in the courtyard of a downtrodden apartment complex, rattling off typewritten letters to Erin Brockovich and hanging with his motley crew of pals, including his therapist Diane (Annette Bening), documentary film collaborator Jack (Danny DeVito), girlfriend Susan (Jennifer Jason Leigh) and his buddy and associate Wayne (John Ortiz). Together they ruminate about the good old days of L.A. when they’re not storming city council meetings with dramatic filibusters about bus schedules.

But this isn’t just another shaggy-dog hangout movie, showcasing Pine’s appreciation for classic movies, beloved actors, old-school L.A. restaurants, short shorts and silly hats. Enter the femme fatale at the edge of the pool. In a sculptural 1940s-inspired frock and hat, she is June Del Ray (DeWanda Wise), the assistant to the city council member (Stephen Tobolowsky) with whom DB is locked in a brutal yet banal battle. She tells DB she has dirt on her boss, who she says is collaborating in a shady real estate deal with a developer named Teddy Hollandaise (Clancy Brown). With a bat of her eyelashes, the poolman becomes a P.I.

“Poolman” is Pine’s guileless take on the movies that he name-checks throughout, like the frequently referenced “Chinatown” and “Who Framed Roger Rabbit.” But it unfolds like more recent films such as “Inherent Vice” and “Under the Silver Lake” — self-conscious takes on L.A. noir that come with extra layers of existentialism and winking commentary. Pine seems less motivated to comment on the genre, just happy to be playing in the sandbox, flinging around the iconography, archetypes and extremely niche references.

The Achilles’ heel of “Poolman” is its tendency toward hyperspecific geographical jokes; it’s a bit too “inside baseball” to appeal to anyone outside of L.A. and sometimes feels like a feature-length version of the “Saturday Night Live” sketch “The Californians” (Pine’s long blond locks add to that sensation). The central mystery is flabby and uncompelling and it feels obligatory at best, a real-estate scandal offering a loose background in front of which these actors play.

Thankfully, the best part of the movie is the cast. If Pine has great taste in anything, it’s actors. He’s assembled an ensemble that includes a superstar (Bening, having a ball), a comedic heavy-hitter (DeVito, spouting an almost nonstop monologue about parking and pie) and a group of character actors who always make you feel like you’re in safe, capable hands. Add to that a compelling ingenue (Wise) and at least one delightful weirdo (Ray Wise) and the film would be entertaining even if they just read the phone book.

Eventually, the plot twists spiral out of control and it never quite feels like Pine and Gotler have control over this vehicle careening over the surface streets of our city. But there’s such a woo-woo warmth to the endeavor that it’s never an entirely unpleasant experience. Pine’s “Poolman” is sort of the physical, emotional and spiritual embodiment of Los Angeles itself: earnest, silly and a little (or a lot) ridiculous, but insistently charming if you decide to surrender to the experience.

Katie Walsh is a Tribune News Service film critic.