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After someone breaks into John Figg's home and takes all of his material and sentimental possessions, he develops a severe case of insomnia and learns that the people around him are not as trustworthy as they appear to be.
High-achieving high-school senior Dani Barnes dreams of getting into UC Davis, the world's top veterinary school. Then a glamorous new friend draws her into a Southern California scene that threatens everything she's worked for.
A college boy gets involved with his girlfriend's tough, bike-riding brother and his drug business.
The sentence above may look like a summary of the plot, but actually it's the biggest compliment one can make for this work of absolute incompetency: to treat it as if it has a plot.
Let's start with the characters. They are all one-dimensional cardboard characters you've seen in a million movies, though I can't really consider that a fault. Many movies have been suffering from that for the last 15 years. But this film takes the concept of cliché to a whole new level.
First of all, we are constantly subjected to tattoos. I don't mean tattooed people, but tattoos themselves. In many scenes we don't see the faces of the actors, just their tattoos. As if the director is trying to make a point, "if someone has drawn pictures on your skin, you're tough." We also see many scantily clad girls, who are supposed to be hot, but I very much doubt if any of them can actually spell the word "hot." Everybody is doing cocaine or other drugs, starting and ending every sentence with "dude", wearing sunglasses, riding motocross bikes, and then doing more drugs. In one scene, a character shouts at his sister for not sleeping with his friend. "Hey sis, quit being a b**ch and show this guy a good time." Wow, how wildly unconventional. This is the main theme of the movie, since the plot I explained above never actually develops. There's drug-dealing, and that's it.
Don't let the bike poster fool you. The movie has motocross scenes only for about a minute or two. Any sports program intro montage has longer biking scenes, and probably more interesting. All you'll see here is a couple of basic, no-trick jumps that 15-year olds do easily nowadays.
Danny Trejo, who's always a wonderful presence in any movie he's in, only appears for a couple of minutes. There's a love story between the lead actor and his girlfriend which never starts or gets anywhere.
Then there's the acting. Where to start... I hate those people who use the expression "worst actor ever" so frequently on IMDb, as if they've seen all actors and made comparisons. But really, try to catch on video sites just a few seconds of the tough biker bro' character and see his acting. I don't want to say anything bad myself, just see and judge for yourself. I've never seen actors more uncomfortable, nervously waiting for their cue, looking at their toes, or maybe trying to hide their faces for appearing in this film. They look like high school kids in a play who suddenly notice their parents grinning in the audience.
This is probably the most "die" of indie films, if you know what I mean. It has more clichés than your average "dependent" film. The so-called virgin girl looks like she's slept with more men than Cher and cannot even hold a straight face when she says she's ready for her first time. The tattooed biker boys look like the background nodders in an MTV hip-hop clip, probably cursing their fate for not being born black. There's the token devout religious mother, the token "Everybody has given up on you, but I won't" speech, the token laughter at the coughing of a first-time weed smoker, the token foot close-ups like any Tarantino wannabe, even the token "I'm sorry for everything, ma" letter that reads itself aloud. Let's not forget the soundtrack, with songs using the f-word every two seconds, because cursing makes you tough.
The whole movie is all about this bad boy image, but one that only 12-year old, gangsta-wannabe confused kids would appreciate. Everything about it is so inept, so extremely simple, so childish. It's almost like a parody.
As I did in my review of another bad movie, I did a word count of the f..word and "dude" for this film. The result is appalling.
"Dude" is said 118 times in 80 minutes, roughly once every 40 seconds.
The f word is said 273 times in 80 minutes, roughly once every 17 seconds. That may be a record.
Indie, indeed. If this is the direction indie films are going, considering profanity and drugs without any plot "a crazy, wildly unconventional film outside the boundaries of Hollywood" I'd rather stick to Hollywood. Or Bollywood, Jollywood, whatever. Anything, I mean literally anything is better than this. For once, I agree with the ratings (8 votes, all of them 1, by the time I wrote this review).
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