VERY BAD THINGS (1998) A Film Review by Ted Prigge Copyright 1998 Ted Prigge
Writer/Director: Peter Berg Starring: Jon Favreau, Christian Slater, Cameron Diaz, Jeremy Piven, Daniel Stern, Leland Orser, Jeanne Tripplehorn, Carla Scott, Russel B. McKenzie, Lawrence Pressman
Well, "Very Bad Things" is not exactly bad, but it's not exactly great either. Peter Berg's hopeful satirization of the hidden angst and horror that lies within the souls of yuppie suburbanites is hardly the success in either the insightful field or the realms of actual funny black comedy, and the result is a pitch black black comedy that is actually blacker and more desolate than, say, "Dr. Strangelove," but about a millionth as satisfying. Walking out of this film one warm Wednesday night, I wasn't laughing or particularly freaked out by what had happened, but merely trying to figure out just why this film hadn't taken off, when it did have some very big positive pointers going for it, not the least being its excellent cast, and definitely not the least being that it does, in fact, have a pretty killer story.
All I can think of is that this film is perhaps too intense, maybe too black. I know that the idealism behind the sub-genre of "Black Comedy" is that you can push the envelope as far as you want to go, that actually pushing it beyond the realms that anyone has ever gone is what makes it so "black." "Strangelove," in fact, pushes it farther than anyone has pushed it hence (at least up until now), making comedy out of nuclear anihilation, finding big chuckles in the mere sight of wild-ass hick Slim Pickens riding a H-Bomb, waving his hat in the hair, as he plumets to not only his death, but many others'. There are similar moments in "Very Bad Things," including several gruesome deaths, freakish occurances, and some general orgiac pandemonium - stuff that either equals or rivals the content of "Strangelove," yet there's a world of difference between the two - in fact, so much that I'm of all people wondering why I'm comparing the two, when in fifty years, "Strangelove" will most likely still be one of the most-talked about motion pictures and "Very Bad Things" will be viewed as merely a blemish on the oeuvre of all involved...even Jeanne Tripplehorn.
The thing that differentiates this from all other black comedies is, then, tone, and the matter in which it is applied. The director and writer, Peter Berg, has stated that he wanted to make a film for him, and he likes his films like he likes his food, and probably everything else: with spice. And what happens is, yes, this film definitely has spice, above everything else, but that's probably it's undoing. It's so audaciously in favor of being completely over-the-top that for most of the film, I wasn't sure if I was supposed to be laughing or actually being frightened by its ghastly events. This apparently was the purpose, as Berg has been quoted as telling its potential audiences to just keep on reminding themselves that what they're watching is a comedy, even though the film is so cartoonish in its presentation that even if it is intense, it's absolutely impossible to take this as anything short of a really black comedy, funny or not.
And for at least the first half hour, it isn't half bad (read: I laughed, but not much or hard). Berg's dissection of young upwardly mobile members, living in suburbia, and just starting out their lives is mildly amusing if not a little tired. We're introduced to the five pals (played by Jon Favreau, Christian Slater, Jeremy Piven, Daniel Stern, and Leland Orser) and their respective problems (Favreau is getting married to Cameron Diaz; Stern and Piven are perpetually feuding siblings), and after all this, they all head out for the lavish Bachelor Party for Favreau, all the way out in Vegas, where they engage in drugs, general rucous, and eventually, a stripper who bares her body, then ends up in the bathroom, where she fucks the now-emotionally-released Piven, who slips on the wet floor, landing the back of the stripper's head on a coat hanger.
Things get pretty intense from here, including a visit from a security guard (some have actually made the mistake that this film is racist from the fact that the stripper is asian, the security guard is black, and Stern is openly Jewish), and like a first-time director trying to be completely hip, Berg mistakens the stupidity of these five characters as a form of really inspired comic flight, unfortunately the only real source of jokes in this film. Favreau does his character from "Swingers," Stern does the trademark Stern character he's done twice too many times before, Piven does the Piven-schtick, Orser just kinda sits there with nothing to do, and Slater, for the first time since, oh I dunno, "Heathers," actually steals the show and becomes pretty engrossingly witty. It's all generally interesting, and I was actually pretty much into it so much that I was actually enjoying myself and wondering what would in fact happen to hold this flawed but engrossing mixture of bad jokes and extremely intense pseudo-drama for another hour or so.
Sadly enough, once the guys are back home and when they're consciences are getting to them is about the time the film just slowly collapses under itself. The jokes become less and less funny, the situations become more intense, and by the end, it has come to an almost-completely disappointing denouement, where two characters don't get at all what they deserved, and one does. When the movie was over, I got up, left, and walked slowly to my car in a bemused state of depression, not depressed over what had happened in the film, but depressed because I wasn't at all satisfied with what had happened. Theoretically, this film should work. It shows that humans are, deep down, horrible people, and any pain they receive is justified. Great point. It was also made in the black comedy "Your Friends and Neighbors," a brilliantly funny movie that also doesn't respect its characters and still manages to leave the audience satisfied. Maybe that was because writer/director Neil LaBute not only had a more observant tone, but also told funnier jokes. The characters were fully realized, and they seemed like, well, real people who really did deserve their sad fates by the finale.
"Very Bad Things" rests on characateurs, and that's not really bad, but it's not exactly great either. It doesn't help that Berg has nothing original or even very interesting to say about them, and the only character who's even close to possessing anything resembling dimensions is Cameron Diaz's, a Martha Stewart with a vengeance who isn't so much interested in marrying as she is BEING married, and will go as far as to bash a man's head in and order the deaths of man and canine to insure her possible happiness. Combined with Slater's joyously devious lawyer, who seems that he may miss covering up for what happened in Vegas, and you have the only real signs of wit and comedy in the entire film. Even Favreau, a really hilarious actor, seems like he was imported from another film and is just standing around, awkwardly awaiting the finale.
But perhaps the worst thing about "Very Bad Things" is that after all the hype, all the trailers that made it look like the hippest black comedy to come our way since the dawn of Quentin Tarantino, it is ultimately forgettable, and seems to be a direct miss in what Berg was hoping would happen. Afterwards, I couldn't get some of the carnage out of my mind (particularly one pretty vile death about halfway through), but a week later, I had all but forgotten what it was I didn't really like about it. Okay, sure, it's a tad engrossing, but when the film no longer held my utmost attention following a promising beginning, there was nothing left for me to really care about. When the bomb finally did go off in "Strangelove," I saw it as hilariously disturbing, since those who caused it to happen were not only a bunch of imbeciles, but also the ones in charge of our lives. When the end finally came for "Very Bad Things," all I could think of was "ugh."
MY RATING (out of 4): **
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