Starring Amanda Peet and los hooligans
"[Expletive] you!" says one mid-20's male. "[Expletive] [expletive], yeah!" says another, with similar machismo.
The problem with "Whipped" is not that the cussing gets in the way of the story. Actually, the story is about cussing and the actions naughty words describe. But much like swearing up a storm at Chuck E.Cheese, "Whipped" is strained, annoying and completely repulsive.
In the lives of 20-somethings, "bagging" someone of the opposite sex is a hobby, like collecting stamps but with cardiovascular benefits. In order to relate these tales to friends, swear words are used as adjectives, nouns and adverbs. But here, the forcefulness defined in the word "expletive" is missing, replaced by a womanizing drawl.
For a good example of an excellent cusser, look at Jason Lee in "Mallrats." Each f-bomb explodes with a mushroom cloud of awestruck mumbling in its wake. After the success of Kevin Smith's movies, all singles sex comedies will be judged against his '90s work. But if those comparisons are made with "Whipped," well, the proof is in he apropos title.
The focus is on three young males and the previously safe sanctuary of a diner. Every Sunday morning, the buddies share the week's exploits on the "scamming" front. "Scamming" is conniving a girl into bed, for those who aren't informed on idiotic exploits. We have the irritating corporate pretty-boy (Brian Van Holt), a faux-artsy type (Zorie Barber) who visits bohemian bars for the eye candy and the bungling mess of emotion, and a punching bag for male angst (Jonathan Abrahams).
Of the three, Abrahams is the only somewhat redeeming character in a world gone hormonal. Van Holt and Barber paint an expression of having always just taken a bite out of a succulent peach: Pucker those lips and the ladies somehow still talk to them. Abrahams tries to treat the girls he meets with respect, so of course he is the butt of countless homosexual jokes and a chronic pleaser-of-one's-self.
The one-dimensional guys are joined by their married friend (Judah Domke), but he is even less respected than the "pansy." In "Whipped," being married is a fate worse than someone forced to see a terrible movie like "Whipped." But he relishes the Sunday mornings because his friends are the only connection he has to his bachelorhood.
To paraphrase Radiohead, a beautiful girl can turn even the biggest jerk's world into dust. Amanda Peet ("The Whole Nine Yards") somehow runs into each of the fellows and begins to date each one for a period of a few weeks -- concurrently. These actions all prove one thing: A woman only can be considered as smart as the person(s) she dates.
Peet, slowly but surely, turns the tables on the young men and leads the boys around with the ring of a phone. And as the changes begin, each male says that he "really likes this one," that "she's special" and all the usual lines jerks think sensitive guys say all the time. Who win win the affections of this female playa? Many have not cared less since the NCAA stopped playing third-place games during March Madness.
While sarcasm, in thoughtful doses, can be a good means for laughter, the byproduct sometimes can be an intense hatred for the character. One of the bright spots of "Whipped" is that it allows the viewer to hate each character equally in a vain attempt to make an awful statement on the current dating scene. If this is how things operate in the single diner world, then love's obituary will be in tomorrow's paper.
But the single worst aspect of "Whipped" doesn't even involve the characters. For some reason, not one not of Devo's "Whip It" plays on the soundtrack. Now that is something to cuss about.
The Northern Star Home Page
The Internet Movie Database
What other critics think - The Rotten Tomatoes Site