| The Boondock Saints It's not murder 'cause they pray first! |
| If you only want to commit the time to read one sentence of my opinion here it is: this is a movie based on a moralistic premise wrought with hypocritical oversights, corny plot elements, mind-numbing dialogue, and action sequences that do nothing to overcome the shoddy plot and poorly thought out “moral”. I feel film deserves to be regarded as an art form on level with music and literature. If this is the case, Boondock Saints is the Nelly and Harry Potter of the film world in its intense popularity in the face of its undeniable lack of any redemptive depth of intellectual appeal. Pretence is the name of the game as far as this stinker is concerned and it fails in several regards: Plot, acting/writing, and direction. Basically everything that matters in a movie, this flick doesn’t have. As far as the plot goes I have three big beefs (be forewarned, I will probably disclose elements of the paltry plotlines in this review): 1) The two brothers are devout Catholics, but spend most of the movie cursing and killing which are decidedly nonChristian activities. I hate to nitpick, but the Christian element is such a big part of the story that you can’t help but question the dubiousness of ending your prayers not with “Amen” but with shooting someone’s face off. 2) The entire moral element, which forms the basis of appeal for this movie, is compromised by the fact that the retribution is effected through unrepentant mass murder. Practicing Christians like the characters in Boondock Saints ought to remember that “vengeance is the Lord’s” and anyone with a brain ought to realize that there’s no moral lesson in killing. 3) The whole storyline is a big can of creamed corn. From the pointlessly gay detective joining forces with the vigilantes, to the mafia’s secret weapon (seeming pulled out of the Troy Duffy’s butt halfway through the script), to the fact that he’s their father, to the ending courtroom scene, this is unmitigatedly corny. When it comes to the writing Troy Duffy and basically every actor needs to learn the lesson that incessant screaming does not constitute dialogue. This seems perfectly obvious and yet it seems that when the boys aren’t killing something they’re screaming their lungs out about something else. And when neither of these is occurring, we are beholden to vapid attempts a witty dialogue, the punch lines to which can be sited from miles away. As for the direction, Duffy could stand to learn much regarding what I’ve already touched on, but I may as well mention the incessant awkwardness of so much of this movie. There’s the pointless confessional booth scene, the cat scene (see “Pulp Fiction”), Willem Dafoe’s dancing (and seduction of men), basically everything is awkward and mindless in this crapfest. Anyone, religious or not, ought to recognize the internal contradiction of the entire premise this movie based on. To make matters worse it isn’t well acted, well written, or even edited well. Do yourself a favor and temper your cinematic taste with the tried and true: Casablanca for the fantastic dialogue, Annie Hall for the humor, Citizen Kane for the direction, Lawrence of Arabia for the visuals, The Sting for the flawless delivery, the world of film has so much more to offer. Watch any of these, then come back and see what you think about the latest flavor of the week movie. |