I think I need to take a moment and praise Jonathan Levine for getting the sticky, sweaty feel of summer in New York so perfectly right in “The Wackness“.

However much Ben Kingsley’s mannered, twitchy performance may annoy me, the movie’s sense of place is dead-on.

If you’ve ever been in Manhattan between late June and early September, you know precisely how unpleasant the city can be — a steamy, sun-baked slab of concrete that focuses its heat back onto the poor saps unlucky enough to be outside, making us feel like we’re trapped in one of those Moroccan tajines.

Of course, there are certain compensations you just can’t find anywhere else … but that, my dears, is a story for another time.