To “get into character,” many actors have taken it upon themselves to devastate their money-making temples. History credits Robert De Niro with starting the trend; his packing on pounds for Raging Bull set a record, as well as the stage for silver screen physical transformations. Today, Christian Bale is a particularly looney example of someone willing to batter himself with physically implausible weight-gain and loss but, to his credit, it informs his performance in oft tremendous ways.

With Woody Allen at the helm – a director not particularly known for culling “method” performances from his leading men – Joaquin Phoenix reps one of the oddest physical abnormalities this side of I’m Still Here. Your digestion of the movie, Irrational Man, will align startlingly with your reaction to his bloated belly. Shock, awe, dismay and a few good hearty chuckles is what it held for me. But should we be gazing at this cruddy castle of bulging belly fat as more than meets the eye? Is that totally tubular paunch indeed a clue into the fact that this is not the romantic comedy you’re looking for? But I ramble.

In Irrational Man, Joaquin does rocks a gnarly paunch, a  DIY gut extending from his otherwise shapely body. He’s a depressive intellectual, suffering from “despair” and years of battering himself with a conga line of vapid women and scotch of all ages have left his physique noticeably worse for wear. If the body is the physical manifestation of the mind’s health, both have become ill-fitting and unhealthily distended.

Fathering a potbelly of the starving African child variety is just the kind of idiosyncrasy one could only expect of the enigmatic Phoenix. Without that popping hump of swollen stomach, he’s but a Hollywood star caked in melancholy, firing off familiar Allen neurosis and philosophizing. With it, his performance absolutely sings despair. After all, what is more depressing than that untamable protrusion that is the beer gut? When we really break Phoenix’s storied past down though, we ask: should we really expect anything less from the somber hipster faux-rap star?

But enough about Joaquin Phoenix’s gut (Ok, one last thing: after extensive Googling, I found a disturbing lack of information on Phoenix’s transfatmation. Nor can you find a good hi-res picture of his weight gain online. What that means, I know not), let’s dive into the problematic – though still enjoyable – sexual opus gone awry, Irrational Man.

First though, another tangent: Woody, Woody, Woody. Your glib attempts to normalize relations between an older man and a younger women knows no bound. Seriously, abandon ship. New topic. Next up to bat. Please? Please?! We all know the stories and speculation that surrounds your relationship to wife Soon-Yi Previn (35 years your junior) but as far as an annual topic for film, let’s just say this yarn has officially been woven. We get it: you’re cool with it and so too should we be. Moving on.

In Irrational Man, we see the umpteenth iteration of “experienced” dude beds hot-to-trot vixen and, like last year’s Magic in the Moonlight (another Allen film I had deep issues with but nevertheless still quite enjoyed [review here]) this also one stars a wide-eyed Emma Stone who wants to jump the bones of a man 14-years older than her (an improvement over her longevity-spread with Moonlight co-star Colin Firth (which pulled in at a reprehensible 28 years).

Stone plays student to Phoenix’s prof-with-a-belly-who’s-still-totally-bangable. Parker Posey – a science-professor-slash-cuckolder who’s developed a raging hard-on for Phoenix’s Abe (and lack of abs) – agrees about the bangable part.

Kerfuffles surrounding Abe’s inability to perform – “Le sigh, but I am too depressed to get hard” – and his lack of motivation to live only spur his would-be-suitors on. Stone says something in voice-over about the link between romanticism and suicide. We discerning audience members pray for less of a link between this movie and on-the-nose narration.

But the bubbly-but-bright Stone and the cankerous-but-caring Phoenix give rise to Allen’s less inspired plotting, until the film unexpectedly finds its footing in the midst of its second act. As a daring caper scheme develops so too does the chemistry between the characters ripen. Soon the three performers are locked in a dangerous game of clues and withholding information. Even when Allen’s playing with half a creative deck, he still manages an ace up his sleeve every now and then.

Things bump and bumble to a fittingly absurd (and abrupt) conclusion. And though good sense was occasionally lost along the way, the journey is a sometimes witty, often playful attempt at staging a straight-faced farce.

CONCLUSION: Though Woody Allen needs to knock his creative obsession with “older man meets younger woman,” Irrational Man boasts sly performances and a deliciously devilish caper saga. See it for Joaquin Phoenix’s stage gut alone.