Weekend Ruiner is devoted to helping you find the saddest and/or grossest and/or most disturbing of movies, you know, to like, ruin your weekend or whatever. (Sorry.)
You’d think a movie that begins with naked drunk dudes humping one another with reckless abandon (while spritzing beer from their mouths like those fat baby statues in the middle of fountains) would be anything but a “weekend ruiner.” You’d be anything but right. (FYI, ~50 seconds after the drunk gallivanting, Swanson (played by Tim Heidecker) is on screen describing—in great detail—the phenomena of the prolapsed anus.)
BUT BEFORE WE TALK MORE ABOUT THAT CAN I TAKE A SEC TO SAY THAT MOTHER FUCKING JAMES MURPHY IS IN THIS. “WHAT AND HOW EVEN” ARE SOME QUESTIONS THAT I HAVE. REGARDLESS, LET’S LISTEN TO “I CAN CHANGE” BEFORE WE TALK ABOT HOW FUCKED UP THE COMEDY IS.
(For the record, Murphy is completely irrelevant to the film. He is basically an extra. BUT, if we did “Weekend Ruiner” for songs, then that ditty would absolutely be up there. But that’s a different blog post for a different time. We have a mission now. And that mission is to delve into the pile of crazy that is The Comedy.)
Well, first off, that first scene doesn’t tie into anything, at all, ever. So. That was a bummer. Second of all, everything about this movie is a bummer. The premise of this film is that Swanson’s father is dying, ostensibly leaving his son a shit ton of money, and Swanson couldn’t give less of a fuck. About any of it. Instead, he and fellow aging, wealthy New Yorkers get “fucked up” and talk about how much they “connect with each other,” whilst simultaneously going about the world completely aimlessly with a distinct lack of empathy/common courtesy/humanity.
The extent of the characters’ emptiness is expressed through a few key scenes (of which I will not spoil), but mostly just the way they talk. And interact with people. They’re supposed to be “smart” kids, from “good” families—but they’re not. They’re maddening.
Here are just a few snippets of dialogue I collected:
- “Slave penis and vagina. Come on, that’s funny. I know you think that’s funny.”
- “Yeah, I rape anything I can get my hands on. Alright?”
- “Williamsburg, represent!”
Those choices are tame—I want to let the actual movie ruin your weekend, not the post about it. Thing is the “shocking” dialogue isn’t, IMO, the part of this film that is most disturbing. Nor is it, really, the depiction of these lost/empty/disturbed 30-something hipsters—in and of itself. Rather, it’s thinking about how this film came to be.
That’s when you realize just how weekend ruiny-this movie is. Because, stepping back, it’s easy to see that the impetus to make this film (as it is for many) is to display some sort of truth. In this case, the unique way isolation and loneliness plagues this particularly unlikeable (but still real) demographic. The detachment of these people from real emotion may be microcosmic of the world at large…but also maybe not. Even taken at face value, though, it’s unsettling as fuck. These are adults who have never grown up. They’re smart, emotionally capable—and yet exceedingly alone. And unfulfilled. And generally unpleasant characters.
Is the film trying to tell us that this sort of emotional development is symptomatic of modernity? (Probably.)
Follow up Q: Is this film going to ruin my weekend? (DEFFO.)