I'll let this review do all the talking (I can hardly contain my glee):
"Overnight"
I don't know how you feel about "The Boondock Saints", but if you're like me, you wanted to crucify Troy Duffy for unleasing that faux-hip sack of bullshit on the world long before this documentary revealed him to be quite possibly, for lack of a better word, the biggest Cunt to ever walk the planet. The movie opens right after Duffy has sold his script for "Saints" to Miramax, and literally right after the deal was finalized, Duffy's head starts to baloon, his perceptions start warp, and he turns into an egomaniacal monster who proceeds to threaten, taunt, antagonize, and otherwise mistreat every single person he meets (including his long-suffering brother, Taylor) for the next three years. As Duffy's behavior becomes more erratic, his deal with Miramax begins to implode. He's drinking every night, he's screaming on the phone at producers, he's refusing courtesy meetings with people like Brad Pitt and Keanu Reeves ("a stupid cocksucker who can't act worth a fucking shit", or something like that... I guess it's true, but still...), all before the movie is even in preproduction. Miramax exec Meryl Poster is disgusted by Duffy, and rightly so; the general mayhem he causes, his disrespect towards women, his barely contained racism, it all sets off alarm bells at Miramax, and eventually Harvey Weinstein puts the script in turnaround. Effectively blacklisted, Duffy can't get a backer and is temporarily humbled until a small unknown indie producer gives him less than half the budget he originally had with Miramax to make "Saints". He makes his movie, according to him "the greatest independent film of all time", records an album with his band, and waits for his celebrity to take off. Fortunately for me, it never does. The movie debuts at Cannes, where every single studio refuses to buy it. His album is released, and sells something like 600 copies in six months. Blockbuster releases "Saints" straight to video where it becomes an undeserving cult hit with the knuckleheads and morons who populate the TalkBack area, and his band's CD is pulled off the shelf. The karmic retribution is so great; I don't think I've ever enjoyed watching someone fail so much. Harsh words, I know, but if you had to sit next to a kid at the lunch table for your last two years of high school going on about how "The boondock saints is the greatest movie ever made" every single day, you'd enjoy this movie too. The packed audience I saw it with ate it up, but that's hardly surprising in a town where people love to watch someone fail... Personally, failure makes me sad, but watching an asshole like Troy Duffy fail in hollywood and lose all his friends is something akin to watching Hitler get gassed by a bunch of jews. It'll be in theatres this fall; go see it.
http://www.aintitcool.com/display.cgi?id=17840
;D ;D ;D
"Overnight"
I don't know how you feel about "The Boondock Saints", but if you're like me, you wanted to crucify Troy Duffy for unleasing that faux-hip sack of bullshit on the world long before this documentary revealed him to be quite possibly, for lack of a better word, the biggest Cunt to ever walk the planet. The movie opens right after Duffy has sold his script for "Saints" to Miramax, and literally right after the deal was finalized, Duffy's head starts to baloon, his perceptions start warp, and he turns into an egomaniacal monster who proceeds to threaten, taunt, antagonize, and otherwise mistreat every single person he meets (including his long-suffering brother, Taylor) for the next three years. As Duffy's behavior becomes more erratic, his deal with Miramax begins to implode. He's drinking every night, he's screaming on the phone at producers, he's refusing courtesy meetings with people like Brad Pitt and Keanu Reeves ("a stupid cocksucker who can't act worth a fucking shit", or something like that... I guess it's true, but still...), all before the movie is even in preproduction. Miramax exec Meryl Poster is disgusted by Duffy, and rightly so; the general mayhem he causes, his disrespect towards women, his barely contained racism, it all sets off alarm bells at Miramax, and eventually Harvey Weinstein puts the script in turnaround. Effectively blacklisted, Duffy can't get a backer and is temporarily humbled until a small unknown indie producer gives him less than half the budget he originally had with Miramax to make "Saints". He makes his movie, according to him "the greatest independent film of all time", records an album with his band, and waits for his celebrity to take off. Fortunately for me, it never does. The movie debuts at Cannes, where every single studio refuses to buy it. His album is released, and sells something like 600 copies in six months. Blockbuster releases "Saints" straight to video where it becomes an undeserving cult hit with the knuckleheads and morons who populate the TalkBack area, and his band's CD is pulled off the shelf. The karmic retribution is so great; I don't think I've ever enjoyed watching someone fail so much. Harsh words, I know, but if you had to sit next to a kid at the lunch table for your last two years of high school going on about how "The boondock saints is the greatest movie ever made" every single day, you'd enjoy this movie too. The packed audience I saw it with ate it up, but that's hardly surprising in a town where people love to watch someone fail... Personally, failure makes me sad, but watching an asshole like Troy Duffy fail in hollywood and lose all his friends is something akin to watching Hitler get gassed by a bunch of jews. It'll be in theatres this fall; go see it.
http://www.aintitcool.com/display.cgi?id=17840
;D ;D ;D
