Let’s start with Bob. Bob suffers from a host of phobias, which is nothing for which we should fault the character; mental illness can be crippling, and we get to see that with Bob. He sits alone in his apartment. He’s scared to touch surfaces. He screams when he’s riding an elevator (good god have I been tempted to do that in an elevator. You really can’t take me out in public.). However, it doesn’t take long before Bob starts showing a side that is dark. By dark, I mean pitch black. Bob spins a yarn about his own suicide in order to obtain the phone number of his vacationing psychiatrist. As if that’s not bad enough, he also obtains the address of this man, then gets on a bus to go see him. When he shows up, Bob proceeds to insinuate himself into the life of the Marvin family members, gaining their trust and becoming a fun part of their activities, from sailing to learning how to swim to dinner. Soon enough, everyone loves Bob, welcoming him into their lives because he’s fun and goofy. All this while completely managing to overlook the fact that this is a mental patient that has ridden hundreds of miles to stalk his shrink. It begs a scary question: if Bob is willing to go this far to be near the object of his obsession, what else is he willing to do? I mean, really, how do you introduce someone like that at a party? “I met Bob when he took a bus to see my dad, who was treating him at the time.” Have to admit, that’s not the best how-we-met story. “I stalked them into submission” is never a proud line.

If you think Leo is the victim here, he’s not that much better. Leo is emotionally distant as a father, choosing to communicate with his children through hand puppets and speaking to them as though they’re tax attorneys on his payroll. He forces his son to learn to dive, not bothering to listen to the kid’s concerns. Siggy (Charlie Korsmo) also displays quite a bit of anxiety, which appears to be a result of the arm’s length parenting approach of his father. For her part, daughter Anna (Kathryn Erbe) welcomes someone who shows interest in her activities, which goes to show you how much involvement her father has in her life outside of attempting to control her. Leo’s also a raging narcissist, who would rather promote his book than let his family sleep in. He’s condescending and rude to the townsfolk, which doesn’t earn him any friends. When Bob comes into the picture, he makes several missteps that make you question his professional judgment: he doesn’t call the police, nor does he alert anyone in the mental health system that a patient has just showed up at his doorstep. Nope. Leo chooses to act drastically when his thunder is stolen, though: he tries to have Bob committed after Bob hijacks his big Good Morning America interview, which fails when the institution staff is won over by Bob’s charm and humor. So what’s a dick of a psychiatrist to do in this case? Strap 20 pounds of explosives to the guy’s chest and leave him in the middle of the woods. In response to a scary situation, Leo focuses instead on a bruised ego and decides it’s better to kill Bob than to call the police.

Really, on paper, this situation is scary as hell. A mental patient stalking and weaseling into the lives of the object of his fixation is the premise of a horror film; the psychiatrist attempting to kill this man in return after exerting a stranglehold of control over his own family is equally disturbing. So why aren’t we cringing more? That’s easy – it’s the performances that close this gap rather than the writing. You have to admit that it’s Murray’s lighthearted laughter and “aw shucks” demeanor are charming, and it makes it easy to laugh at his antics. Suddenly, it’s funny when he’s strapped to a ship, or when he’s moaning in ecstasy at dinner over corn on the cob. For Dreyfuss’s part, it’s hysterical to watch this man yell and scream. We like viewing his frustration because the character is a total dick, and we want to see him get knocked down a peg. It’s fun for us because we all have met someone that’s a lot like Leo Marvin, whether he’s a know-it-all in your college class or that friend’s dad that will not shut up at dinner. We dislike egotists, and we laugh when Bob defeats him. It’s funny that Bob is marrying his sister and staying in his life; someone has risen above this jerk. The jokes are inane and the music is light. We’re supposed to laugh. It’s all about the tone.

What About Bob? could very well have been a horror movie. It had everything in its recipe: an unstable man, escalating behavior, and drastic measures taken to defend the family. However, it wasn’t. It’s a belly-laughing comedy. We’re willing to overlook all of that for a good time, much like most of the Marvin family. Proving once again that it’s not always the facts – the presentation has just as much to offer in the interpretation.