March
7, 2005
You
know that Simpsons episode with Mel Gibson? The one where Homer
complains about how much he hates Mel's new remake of Mr. Smith
Goes to Washington, and then gets to completely remake it as
a bloodthirsty revenge flick?
Sometimes
I openly wonder if the kids understand satire. When Mel Gibson decapitates
the President and impales a Congressman with the American flag,
it's supposed to be a joke. They're making fun of violent, pointless
action movies. Get it?
Sigh.
We're churning out a generation of college students who expect nothing
more from the movies than explosions, fart jokes and bullets. We're
a generation that is remarkably spoiled, and have never bled or
suffered a day in our lives. We're turning fat and lazy, crude and
stupid.
Most
of them have probably never seen a great movie in their lives, almost
certainly nothing before they were born (Star Wars is as
far back as they go). So when your diet consists solely of junk
food, you believe that junk food is all there is to this life.
It's
a primary reason why young adults in America can shuffle in front
of television screens for a hideous train wreck like The Boondock
Saints. They're being served six-month-old leftovers from the
same stupid action movies they've been raised on. But this atrocious
movie can't even succeed on that level.
What
is there to tell? Cheap gangster stereotypes? Pretty boys who pose
with their guns (ahem)? Revenge fantasies given some false veneer
with religious imagery? Slow motion shootouts? Beware the overuse
of slow motion. It's the surest sign the filmmaker is a hack.
Just
what is the point here? It's as if Troy Duffy, the writer-director,
is pouring the worst cliches of Pulp Fiction, Taxi
Driver, and The Matrix into a blender, and expecting
us to ask for seconds. You could almost accept is as bad satire,
and enjoy it like all those old Ed Wood movies, but Boondock Saints
is far too pompous and full of itself. Duffy shoots scenes as though
he's reinventing cinema; he really does believe all this pointless
violence is profound and meaningful. Spare me.
You
know when your movie has lost all sense of respect? When poor Willem
Dafoe is reduced to flailing about and walking around in drag. When
a much-feared hitman turns out to be Billy Connely, the stand-up
comic (I guess Steven Wright was busy). When three men, standing
less than ten feet apart, start shooting at one another and no one
gets hit. When Ron Jeremy shows up.
The
story of Troy Duffy is actually a far more interesting one, as told
in the 2003 documentary Overnight. Duffy
was a bartender with a rock band and a screenplay, who in 1997 was
courted by Miramax to make into a feature. Despite the very
obvious fact that he had no experience actually making
movies, he is handed everything he wants on a silver platter.
One
would expect him to be grateful and eager to prove himself, but
Duffy proved far too pompous and arrogant for that. His ego trip
proved his undoing, as Miramax pulled out of the deal, leaving him
with nothing. Eventually, Boondock Saints was picked up
by Franchise Films for half the original Miramax budget. The movie
was submitted to Sundance, but ignored; it eventually plays for
one week on five screens.
So
now we're back to the DVD, which is where our best and brightest
are wasting precious brain cells on this schlock. I don't want to
be harsh to you kids, because I was there once. But, still, you
should know better. Your lives are short, and your minds are precious.
You must treasure them, and make them grow, not drown them in crude
psychosis. Go listen to some Bob Dylan records. Read a few books.
Watch a great movie; a really great movie that fills you with life,
not one that drowns in death. |
