BODY SHOTS (1999)
Grade: D-
Director: Michael Cristoffer
Screenplay: David McKenna
Starring: Jerry O' Connell, Tara Reid, Amanda Peet, Ron Livingston, Brad Rowe, Sean Patrick Flannery, Sybil Temchen, Emily Procter
Pre-Review Note: Seeing as the only concern of BODY SHOTS is "sex", I will be forced to refer to that particular act innumerable times throughout the duration of this review. Because of this, I will try to vary word descriptions of "sex" (meaning if you are offended by pejorative terms, and\or your name is Jerry Falwell, you are kindly invited to hit the X up on the left corner of your screen), so if there happens to be a word you come across and cannot comprehend, fret not, it's most likely just another way of referring to "sex". I think we'd all agree that any word used incessantly becomes a bit monotonous so I hope you appreciate my attempt to liven up what could potentially be a very boring review. Though not as boring as the movie which makes Steve Forbes flat tax plan seem as lively as watching a naked Mathew Mconaughy play the bongos while high on god knows what.
BODY SHOTS is a film so frightened of coitus that scenes of copulation are filmed ominously, in the way you'd normally expect to see a violent attack. It's about people who think about screwing, seek it out, and talk about it. These are things we all do, sometimes. The characters in this film spend every waking moment pondering the simplicities of sexual acts. Their lives center around the next sexual encounter, but they seemed depressed. It's as if fucking is all they have to look forward to after a busy workweek.
At its core BODY SHOTS is a message movie, the kind of thing I could picture really progressive church groups showing to middle schoolers in order to turn them off coition. Michael Cristoffer (who directed GIA, another film that treated bumping uglies as if it where evil) is a moralist with nothing new to say. His characters don't communicate anything of interest to each other, so Cristoffer gives them an opportunity to let out their inner thoughts by speaking directly into the camera. They voice simplistic platitudes like "I like to come" or "sex without love equals violence". Huh? And yes that is as complex as this movie's observations get. The characters are stupid and shallow, with not one registering as anything more.
The plot concerns vapid over sexed twentysomethings on an all night hunt for carnal pleasure, then the after math (the morning after) of such events. We meet the characters as they speak directly to us, confiding in us with their idiotic ruminations on intimacy. I would normally go into the characters and the actors who play them, giving you the pros and cons, but for this film I cannot. I'm not trying to be clever or witty, but I honestly hardly remember anything that would set them apart from the others. With the exception of Trent (played by Ron Livingston as a bargain basement Patrick Bateman), the rest fade into each other-- a patchwork of fake breasts, defined abs, pearly white teeth, and creamy, flawless skin. I vaguely recall Brad Rowe as the sensitive one, only because his character gets the worst lines ("sex without love equals violence").
In between all the confessionals, Cristoffer films everything like a headache commercial, with blurry slo mos and dramatic head turning. The fact that this director at one point won a Pulitzer Prize completely baffles me. This film is made without one iota of intelligence or insight into the generation that its tag line claims to be defining. If BODY SHOTS is meant to say that all twentysometyhings are idiotic and f**k-obsessed, fine, I don't have any problem with a film that tries to persuade me to think a certain way, but Cristoffer only gives us one side. Additionally that one side isn't even entertaining; the characters indulge in buggery without an ounce of sexiness. Or realism. One sexual encounter takes place outside a club on a chain link fence between the two most sensitive characters. They suddenly have vigorous intercourse with each other for no apparent reason (other than that they both happen to be standing next to each other…alas, if it could only be that easy…kidding of course), then, not only isn't it erotic, it isn't real. It doesn't feel like an authentic sexual encounter. Every f**k scene in this film (and there are many) is treated in the same unsexy manner. BODY SHOTS makes fornication dirtier than the most scummy porno film. It shows us none of the pleasure that should go along with it, and most of all, it fails to show us why its characters love making it so much if they seem to hate the act of actually doing it.
The resulting search for nookie (and you can take that cookie…) over one night leaves us with several tedious plot lines to follow. The main concern is much ado over a rape that may or may not have occurred. The film shows us two separate versions of the possible rape (one where it is consensual the other where it is not) and in both versions the young actress playing the possible victim gets her shirt torn off. This is a topic that could be interestingly explored if done intelligently, and if memory serves me I can't think of one film that has done so, and yes I saw THE ACCUSED which may be one of the most overrated movies of the 80's next to WALL STREET. Unfortunately nobody gives us reason to care, not the writer, the director or the actors nearly all of whom seem to have wandered off the set of a noxious 90210 spin off.
Paul Thomas Anderson approached BOOGIE NIGHTS in a manner similar to what Cristoffer does here, though BOOGIE NIGHTS succeeded. It was similarly moralistic, but it gave us two different viewpoints; it showed us how the lifestyle of porn enticed its characters, and it showed us the possible fall-out of such a decision. The characters in BOOGIE NIGHTS were as idiotic as the characters are here, but Anderson seemed to care about them. He gave them heart. Cristoffer gives them nothing but raging hormones. He preaches to us, by using his characters to preach to us. This is not the way to get any message across. Why not just direct a public service announcement on the perils of hittin' skins? Cristofer kind of does that, though without an ounce of insight, and with a helping of leering exploitation.
http://www.geocities.com/incongruity98 Reeling (Ron Small)
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