Six Degrees of Defecation.
Tony Montana and Mark Brian Smith
Have you ever seen a film about something you had no interest in, but still found the movie fascinating? What’s that like? Because I’m trying to expand my horizons by watching documentaries not about porn stars or prison gangs, and all I get is crap like Overnight, which is like growing up reading comic books and then trying to get through The Bible. Incompetently made, Overnight is an awful documentary(1) about an awful man (2) making an awful movie (3). But in its interconnected awfulness, it’s strangely gripping, like a film review that compares a movie to a car wreck that you can’t turn away from. The film chronicles the rise and fall of Troy Duffy, a meathead bouncer who changed every third word in the Pulp Fiction script and cut a deal with Miramax to make Boondock Saints, a film that will be studied in civilizations to come as proof that everyone in America has lead poisoning.
Flourinated water has been blamed for The World According to Jim.
I cannot describe to you how much I hate Boondock Saints, and perhaps that’s for the best, because the film is astoundingly popular and I don’t want to hurt anybody’s feelings (4). It’s not that only stupid people like this movie. It’s that all stupid people like this movie. Functioning as a litmus test of idiocy, the film can be used as an important information gathering tool, but only in conjunction with other clues. For example, if you’re not sure whether or not the guy working at wicket 9 in the University Registrar’s Office is stoned or retarded, take a good look first before making your decision. If he’s got a hemp necklace and you can faintly hear Beck(5) coming out of his iPod, you may be dealing with a hippie. But if there’s a visible arm-band or Superman tattoo, and he has carefully shaped facial hair like Massari, try throwing out a Boondock Saints quote or two. If he grunts to attention like one of Pavlov’s dogs and automatically sticks his hand out for a high-five, you’re probably dealing with a moron.
I believe the beard says it all.
Overnight was shot by two members of Duffy’s large entourage, who were subsequently alienated by him and clearly have quite a hate on for the man. This is entirely understandable, because Duffy is clearly an ass. The film is edited with this in mind, of course, but the two directors seem entirely too talentless to have manipulated the footage that much, so it’s clear that despite their prejudice, Duffy is still a horrible, horrible man with an inflated sense of his own talent. Watching this film is like everyone’s worst fears about Hollywood come true. All film fans enjoy bashing the latest multi-million dollar action flop churned out by a clueless studio, but deep in their heart of hearts, they all still believe that there is some talent buried somewhere in Hollywood’s shriveled, cocaine-strained heart. Not everyone, the argument goes, makes film entirely based around demonstrating the size of their penis (6). Like Santa Clause and Jesus, that pipe-dream will comes to an end with time, and Overnight will speed that process along. Duffy’s meteoric rise to fame and subsequent collapse into maniacal megalomania is painful, yet satisfying. And if you’re interested in watching a movie that’s less like a car wreck and more like passing a kidney stone, then you’ll be in luck here. If not, be content in watching neither Boondock Saints or Overnight. Unless you like the former, in which case you need to check your arm for Superman tattoos.
(1) See: Fahrenheit 9-11; Bowling For Columbine; Moore, Michael.
(2) See: Hitler, Adolf; Pot, Pol; Duffy, Troy
(3) See: Bay, Michael, films of.
(4) Yes, I do.
(5) Also acceptable: Phish; Dead, Grateful; Marley, Bob. Sublime may be taken as evidence for either scenario.
(6) See: Bay, Michael, films of.