Director Report Card: Matthew Bright (2004)

4. Tiptoes

Sometimes, a movie so grossly miscalculated comes along that it can't help but become an object of morbid curiosity for a certain select of cinematic masochist. I first read about “Tiptoes,” the infamous motion picture were Gary Oldman plays a dwarf, thanks to Nathan Rabin's “My World of Flops” column. By that point, the movie's notoriety was already well established. Its baffling trailer had become a minor meme. The jokers at programs like “How Did This Get Made?” had already raked it over the coals. Since then, “Tiptoes” has become a target of mockery, scorn, and puzzlement by everyone with a blog, podcast, or Youtube channel dissecting “bad” movies.  

Simply put: How does a fiasco like this come to be? Moreover, how did a director like Matthew Bright, known for crazy and sleazy exploitation movies, become involved in such a project? It is, as is usually the case when a movie goes hideously off-the-rails like this, the fault of meddling producers. Bright first wrote the script back in the eighties as a wild sex comedy, supposedly inspired by his friendship with Herve Villechaize. (Whom he met while making “Forbidden Zone.”) The script would end up in the hands of John Langley, the millionaire creator of “Cops” and the neighbor of Bright's father-in-law. Langley and his wife agreed to finance the film. The minute filming began, however, they immediately started hassling the director, cast, and crew. After “Tiptoes” was shot, Bright was locked out of the editing room. His 150 minute director's cut was hastily reworked into the 90 minute version that's currently available. Knowing all of this, does that make “Tiptoes” any less perplexing an experience? 

The plot concerns Steven, a firefighter instructor who is about to marry his long-time girlfriend, Carole. That's when Steven is called away to a family meeting. Dwarfism runs in Steven's bloodline and he is, in fact, the only average sized person in his family. Even his twin brother, Rolfe, is short. Rolfe, currently on the outs with his temperamental friend Maurice, ends up seeking out Steven on his own and meeting Carole. Soon afterwards, Carole discovers that she's pregnant. Steven faces the likelihood that his child may be born a dwarf and struggles with his own insecurity. Meanwhile, his wife gets to know her brother-in-law better.

If you know nothing else about “Tiptoes,” you know that this is the movie where Gary Oldman plays a little person. There's no getting around it. Oldman stands on his knees and shuffles around awkwardly through most of his scenes, his unnatural gait explained with a cane. He's played by a stand-in, who is obviously a different actor, in wide shots. Often times, the film outfits Oldman with some hideously awkward prosthesis in close-ups. Such as an unconvincing hump or similarly unsightly fake legs. It's an utterly surreal sight that casts a dubious air over the entire production. When you have an award-winning thespian hobbling around on his knees like Dorf, looking up at other actors, it becomes impossible to take anything about the movie seriously.

Obviously, having a famous actor awkwardly waddle around on his knees to play the role of a dwarf is horribly ableist. Especially since all the other short characters in the film are played by people with actual dwarfism, making it clear that Oldman was just cast due to his fame. But Oldman playing Rolfe isn't offensive simply because it's clearly in bad taste. It's also insulting to the audience's intelligence, as it undermines the entire point of the movie. “Tiptoes” is, ostensibly, a movie about how little people are just like everyone else. They fuck and fight and drink and swear. They aren't cute little elves or freaks on display. They are human beings. And it's difficult to believe anyone making the movie actually thought that, if they decided the second lead was too important to be played by an actual short actor. That having an average sized performer, showing off his versatility by playing someone with a different body type, was more important than actually showcasing talented people who fall into that minority.

As utterly misguided as “Tiptoes” is, I think there is a good idea at the core here. It's not as if there's a lot of representation in pop culture for little people. They deserve to be depicted as flawed, fully formed human beings who do all the things everyone else does. When moving towards this goal is when “Tiptoes” most feels like a film from the director of “Freeway.” In fact, in its earlier scenes, this is a profanity-laced comedy full of outrageous shenanigans. There's a sexy lady dwarf that everyone seems to want to hump. Rolfe irately delivers profane monologues into a phone, after taking a severe beating. The film opens with the unexpected sight of two little people tearing down the road in custom designed motorcycles. A sex comedy starring little people is exactly the kind of crazy idea I'd expect from Matthew Bright.

While wacky comedy – or at least a humanistic depiction of people with dwarfism – seems like it would be the goal of “Tiptoes,” the film instead more frequently goes in the direction of maudlin melodrama. And this is most evident in the film's score. The music is credited to someone named Curt Sobel, who has mostly worked as a music editor. (“Tiptoes” is, notably, his final feature credit as a composer.) It's a score composed seemingly entirely of straining, yearning, emotional sweeps. Every semi-serious conversations the characters have are accompanied by swelling strings on the soundtrack. It's distracting, to say the least, and overpowers any sense of sincere emotion in the movie. The score is painfully generic too, feeling like a patchwork from a hundred TV Hallmark movies. When not occupied by Sobel's goopy music, “Tiptoes” soundtrack is ruined by exceedingly corny rock music.

A better score would have helped the film immensely but it's hard to imagine “Tiptoes'” script, at least as presented in this chopped up version, successfully generating pathos. Steven's character arc revolves around his fear that his child will be born a dwarf. He spends most of the story inactive, fearful of events he seems powerless to do anything about. When Carole even considers getting an abortion at one point, a serious topic a movie this light-weight is not prepared to handle. As the film goes on, it twists in more ludicrously melodramatic directions. When the child is born a dwarf, Steven freaks out and punches a wall in the hospital room. The script constantly feels drawn towards muted, high-strung conversation and bold acting out like that. It's hopelessly histrionic.

Even if you didn't know for a fact that “Tiptoes” was originally much longer, it would still be obvious that the movie was messily chopped up inside the editing room. Several subplots are raised and then never resolved. What of Maurice's ailing health or his love affair with Lucy, the girl he picks up at the beginning of the film? The average-sized benefactor for a little people assisting charity Steven's family runs – played by David Alan Grier, returning from “Freeway II” – is discovered to be sleeping with a member of the family. This is never brought up again. The amount of time between Steven and Carole getting married and her delivering the baby passes in the course of a few scenes. That “Tiptoes” was hacked to pieces is most obvious in its hilariously abrupt ending. There's an argument, a character walks out, and two other characters kiss before a sudden fade to black. It's a conclusion seemingly designed to make the viewer shout “What the hell was that?” 

What differentiates “Tiptoes” from a lot of other ill-conceived bad movies nobody cares about is its A-list cast. Matthew McConaughey, in-between “Reign of Fire” and “How to Loose a Guy in 10 Days,” stars as Steven. McConaughey seems as confused as everything else about the movie. He delivers most of his dialogue in a hushed, trembling whisper. There's not much of the all-American charm that McConaughey built his career on. His character arc is seemingly that of a man, embarrassed about his family of dwarfs, learning to overcome his insecurities and love his brother. This is left incomplete by the butchered run time, so Steven just seems like an asshole who hates short people for deeply petty reasons. When compared to Oldman, who vamps in a weird voice, McConaughey's performance seems even more confused and uncertain.

As confused or embarrassing as their performances are, it's hard to feel too bad about McConaughey and Oldman agreeing to do a movie like this. At least they got top-billing and big roles. However, Kate Beckinsale – right before “Underworld” made her a household name – and Patricia Arquette are stuck in deeply pedestrian supporting roles. As Carole, Beckinsale is tugged around by the whims of the script. Her growing relationship with Rolfe feels totally undeveloped. Her feelings towards her own child are relegated to a few scenes. Arquette, meanwhile, plays some sort of hippy manic pixie dream girl. She's enchanted by Maurice and forced to put up with his bad moods and... That's it. Much like McConaughey, both actresses seem utterly confused about what to do with this material. 

It may prove unsurprising to read that the most confident performances in “Tiptoes” are from the actually short actors. Michael J. Anderson and Ed Gale – better known as “Twin Peaks'” Man from Another Place and Chucky's stunt-double – are natural seeming in the roles of Steven's father and a family friend. Obviously, the biggest aspect in the film's favor is Peter Dinklage, long before “Game of Thrones,” as Maurice. The character is obviously inspired by Bright's old friend, and Dinklage's idol, Herve Villachez. Like the late Villachez, Maurice is temperamental, outspoken politically, loves women, suffers numerous illnesses, drinks to dull his pain, and is fond of firearms. Dinklage's French accent is pretty campy but Dinklage still steals every scene he's in. It's easy to imagine a less awkward, perhaps less compromised version of “Tiptoes” which starred Dinklage in Oldman's role. 

The making of “Tiptoes” was a frustrating, painful experience for Matthew Bright. He took his name off the script, going by the dismissive pseudonym “Bill Weiner.” The only reason he's credited as director is, as a non-member of the Director's Guild, he couldn't remove his name. He also publicly trashed the producers during a festival screening. Bright's 150 minute director's cut still exist and is, supposedly, superior to the butchered cut. Perhaps, if it's ever released, “Tiptoes” and its director will be vindicated. Yet it's hard to believe that a film like this, with a gimmick this miscalculated and a story this surreal, could succeed on its own merit. As it exists in its current form, “Tiptoes” is a disaster, a baffling car wreck that must be seen to be believed. [Grade: D-]

After a hellish production like “Tiptoes,” it's unsurprising that Matthew Bright fled from Hollywood. Burning all his bridges in public the way he did probably didn't help his career any. While “Freeway” remains a cult favorite, Bright's other films have yet to be reevaluated. It's a pretty interesting set of films though, frequently showing a subversive intelligence behind their outrageous content. Perhaps if that rumored director's cut of “Tiptoes” ever surfaces, and turns out to be a significant improvement over the current version, it'll lead to more interest in his film career. Until then, I'm glad I went on this strange, twisted little trip through a unique director's filmography.

Director Report Card: Matthew Bright (2002)

3. Ted Bundy

Serial killers have always fascinated people. A lot of folks can't help but wonder what would draw someone to perform such heinous acts, what pathological obsessions and compulsions compel people to kill again and again. There's also the "car crash" factor, of simply being unable to look away from the lurid details of such vile crimes. Unsurprisingly, this twin revulsion and fascination has had a huge influence on pop culture. There are at least as many, if not many more, serial killers in fiction as they are in reality. Inevitably, this has led to numerous films directly based on actual killers. In the early 2000s, Tartan Films and DEJ Productions began producing direct-to-video biographies about notorious murderers. Following "Ed Gein" and "Dahmer," there was "Ted Bundy." 

This was, of course, a controversial series of films. Many family members of these men's victims are still alive. There's always a question of taste, as filmmakers risk glorifying these horrible men or making them too sympathetic, invalidating the pain their victims and their families went through. Or maybe the idea of making a movie about a real life killer is so tawdry, that tact should just go out the window in pursuit of a documentary-style truth. While the "Gein" and "Dahmer" movies attempted to walk this balance (with the former still ending up being a lurid horror film), Tartan Films seemingly discarded all of that when they hired Matthew Bright to direct "Ted Bundy." Obviously, the guy who made "Freeway" is going to make a sensationalist, perhaps even satirical film about America's most notorious serial killer. This, unsurprisingly, led to the movie receiving mixed reviews upon release in 2002. 

The film begins in 1974 when Theodore Bundy was a college student in Seattle, Washington. He struggles in his classes and maintains a troubled but committed relationship with Lee, the single mom he's dating. Yet Ted presents a respectable outer image. He volunteers at a suicide hotline and holds down steady jobs, seeming attractive and friendly to most people around him. They don't know that Bundy is compelled to shoplift and spy on women in their homes, to satisfy a perverse, violent lust inside him. Soon afterwards, his focus shifts to murder. He begins a killing spree across the American southwest, abducting, assaulting, and murdering women. After a victim escapes, Bundy is arrested. Even this is not enough to stop him, as he escapes twice and resumes his murderous activities. All the while, Bundy remained strangely charming to those who knew him. 

If you're one of those people who demand utmost fidelity to the truth when it comes to fact-based movies, I'd recommend you just not watch "Ted Bundy." The film takes a broad approach to the actual timeline of Bundy's murders. In real life, Bundy's victims were never alive when he carried them off to his hiding places. In the movie, they are frequently alive to facilitate grisly horror movie chase sequences. The details of the crimes are largely fictionalized, with only a few abduction/murder scenes being based on actual events. The film both simplifies, by cutting out his affairs and the abuse of her daughter, and complicates, by adding more arguments, Bundy's relationship with ex-girlfriend Elizabeth Kloepfer. (The inspiration for Lee here.) The movie can't even get the color of Bundy's notorious Volkswagen Bug right. It was tan in real life but, here, it's yellow. "Ted Bundy" definitely leans on the "inspired by" side of the "inspired by true events" disclaimer.

Considering the exaggerated grindhouse style of the "Freeway" movies, it's unsurprising that Matthew Bright focuses on Bundy's sexual-sadistic instincts. In fact, the film depicts Bundy's desire to sexually dominate his victims as the main motivator factor of his killing spree. There are scenes where he tries to sodomize Lee or convinces her to try rough bondage sex, much to her chagrin. The film repeatedly draws attention to how Bundy's crimes were as much about rape and necrophilia as they were murder, with a few graphic scenes of assault and corpse husbandry. So often, the true crime genre tries to explain horrible men's compulsions by expounding on complicated childhood trauma or other psychological issues. Bright's "Bundy" is almost refreshing by taking this route, of portraying Bundy as simply a sick fuck who couldn't get off unless he killed someone. 

One of the most fascinating factors about the real Ted Bundy is how outwardly charming he was. He wasn't a creepy loner, like Gein or Dahmer. He had perfected the mask of sanity, learning to expertly fake the ability to empathize that he probably lacked. This is why he was able to pull off his modus operandi, of immediately gaining young girls' trust, so many times. Bright's film depicts this repeatedly, showing Bundy luring girls back to his car by wearing a fake cast, pretending to be a cop, or simply chatting them up in a friendly manner. Yet the film also subverts this popular perception of Bundy as a master manipulator. He's also depicted here as a leering weirdo, who fumbles while stalking girls in a grocery store or drinks booze and tugs his cock while driving around. The film comes to the conclusion that there were signs that Bundy was a monster and everyone ignored them.

In fact, Bright's script repeatedly depicts there being witnesses to Bundy's disturbing activities. He's caught masturbating outside a woman's house in the opening scene. He carries a body shaped package over his shoulder to his car, in full view of a group of people. He abducts girl from the beach, in broad daylight, with multiple people around to see. Even his first daring escape from captivity is shown to happen because the guard watching him stepped out of the room. "Ted Bundy's" main idea seems to be that Bundy got away with it for so long not because he was a genius criminal but because nobody said anything sooner. Is that because nobody is going to question a clean-cut, charming seeming white guy? Are we just culturally predisposed to dismiss men doing anything bad? As our understanding of true crime continues to evolve, it's impossible not to consider this as a factor. 

While Bright's film definitely makes some subversive points about the way the Bundy case is typically understood, it's still a grimy exploitation movie. The facts of the Bundy case are used to dress-up horror movie thrill sequences. There's an especially tense and uncomfortable chase scene, devoted to Bundy pursuing an escaped victim through the woods that climaxes with her finding a body of a previous victim. It feels like something out of a slasher movie, which is a questionable tone to invoke in a fact-based film. There's even a fake-out nightmare scene, featuring Ted wielding a machete. Yet it's an effective moment, tense and gruesome. A few times throughout "Ted Bundy," it grasps that gritty atmosphere of hopelessness Bundy's victims surely felt. Such as a key scene where he drops a girl in the forest and lectures her (including telling her he's a Republican) before brutally strangling her to death. Or the shadowy, withdrawn way Bundy's rampage in a sorority house is depicted. It's a questionable way to depict actual crimes but it's still effective. Bright shows off the same command of tension and cramped interiors that worked so well in "Freeway."

But if you think that aspect of the film is tasteless, let's talk about its streak of gallows humor. Yes, much as in Bright's "Freeway" movies, there's definitely a degree of smart-ass, "can you believe this shit?" shock humor in "Ted Bundy." This is most apparent in a flippant montage devoted to Bundy's killing spree across Utah and Colorado. Bloody markers occur across the map as Bundy goes about his habit, smacking girls over the head with blunt objects and dropping dead bodies in the woods. Upbeat music plays over all of this, which is pretty fucked-up. I can't imagine a family member of one of Bundy's victims watching this and not being grossly, justifiably offended. Yet I kind of have to admire the balls on Bright for doing this. This thread reappears a few times throughout the film, during an outrageous scene where Bundy fucks his girlfriend in a crowded prison cafeteria or another upbeat dance song playing over the end credits. The Bundy story is so sickeningly lurid that playing the entire thing as grotesque comedy is maybe not an unreasonable reaction. 

Most actors that have played Bundy have been pretty-boy, all-American types like Mark Harmon or Zac Efron. Obviously, casting decisions like this play up Bundy's reputation as an outwardly charming, handsome young man. Bright's films goes a slightly different route. Michael Reilly Burke, a character actor that has mostly done television and supporting roles, stars as the eponymous murderer. The first scene in the film has Burke's Ted standing in front of a mirror, seemingly getting all his twitchy instincts out first thing in the day so he can appear normal for the rest of it. It's the establishing moment for Burke, who mostly plays Bundy as a sweaty creep. His mask of civility slips many times, especially when arguing with Lee. He can only present himself as respectable for so long, before those homicidal tendencies surface again. This fits the film's thesize, that there were warning signs about Bundy that went unnoticed. It also allows Burke to create a captivatingly creepy performance, as a man torn between being a raging beast and wanting something like a normal life.

Yes, Bright's film does eventually come to the conclusion that Bundy was driven by impulses he could barely control. As the movie goes on, as Bundy escapes again and resumes his murderous activities, he seems more and more like an addict that just can't quit. The film makes a brief reference to Bundy's lingering resentment towards his mother and grandparents, which some have suggested was a factor in his development as a killer. There are suggestions here that maybe Ted did feel some guilt for what he did. Some have read this as a sympathetic portrayal of a hideously evil man, that attempts to excuse his horrible actions. Yet "Ted Bundy" never denies the true horror of his crimes, which makes these moments more curious. Maybe, ultimately, if we're going to make movies about serial killers we have to acknowledge that they are human too, full of complications. It's possible to feel sympathy for someone for their mental illness while also acknowledging how indefensibly evil their actions were. 

This difficult contradiction really comes to the forefront in the film's last act. Bright's film focuses on the media circus that surrounded Bundy's execution, the grotesque carnival atmosphere that arose around him being killed for his crimes. It shows the guards taking sadistic glee in preparing Bundy for his execution, by stuffing him into his rubber diaper in a scene that invokes rape. Finally, as the killer is killed, the camera focuses on his convulsing body, bleeding from the eyes and rendered faceless by the electric chair strap. This is the scene that most seems to upset the critics of "Ted Bundy," that the movie dares to portray a perverted serial killer as a victim too. I don't know if this last act, grimly portrayed, is another one of Bright's tasteless provocation or if he's questioning the purpose of capital punishment. Can we call state-sanctioned executions justice? Ultimately, the film ends with the question of "Who was Ted Bundy?" How could one man be both a brutal serial murderer, a clean-cut nice young man, a depraved sexual predator, a victim of his own uncontrollable impulses, a manipulative sociopath, and someone killed by a state hungry for blood? Perhaps these are the questions such men force us to ask. 

Bright's "Ted Bundy" has been mostly dismissed as a trashy exploitation flick, that doesn't treat its touchy subject matter in the sensitive manner it probably should be handled and tries to cash-in on the notoriety of an infamous killer. And this is not entirely untrue. Yet it's also a more complicated and interesting film than that description implies. It's a tawdry horror flick, a sick black comedy that plays fast and loose with the facts, an attempt to understand what made this disturbed man tick and what that says about the society that birthed him. I think that mix, messy as it may be, is compelling enough to deserve a second look. We've had a flood of Bundy-related projects in the twenty years since this movie has been made, as the horrible man's terrible actions can't help but reflect on our greater understanding of masculinity and crime in this modern age. Despite that, Bright's "Bundy" puts its own spin on things and finds some interesting things to say, though I guess it's up to personal taste whether or not you can stomach its flippant choices. [Grade: B]

Director Report Card: Matthew Bright (1999)

2. Freeway II: Confessions of a Trickbaby

“Freeway” was never the kind of movie that was going to make a lot of money at the box office. A film that intentionally outrageous was made for cult movie weirdos, not a mass audience. Matthew Bright's debut feature grossed less than 300,000 dollars against a three million dollar budget. “Freeway” played on HBO before its theatrical release, suggesting nobody expected it to make much in cinemas anyway. Nevertheless, Bright's twisted vision must've been successful in some regard, because a sequel would be released two years later... Sort of. “Freeway II: Confessions of a Trickbaby” has no narrative connection to the original. It would forego theaters altogether and debut directly on VHS. Unusual for an in-name-only follow-up released straight-to-video, the original's writer/director returned. “Freeway II” is as much a creation of Matthew Bright as the original was. 

Bulimic teenage prostitute Crystal is ordered to serve four years in a juvenile detention facility, followed by a twenty-five year prison sentence, for the crime of robbing her johns. Her first night in prison, she meets her deeply disturbed cell mate, Cyclona, who is in for murder. The two soon concoct a plan to escape prison, going on the road together. A drug and murder-filled misadventure follows, Crystal struggling with her own demons and Cyclona with her murderous impulses. They eventually arrive in Mexico, where Cyclona meets up with her childhood guardian Sister Gomez. Yet not everything is as it seems and soon both girls are in grave danger once again. 

Like I said, “Freeway II” isn't a real sequel. According to Writer's Guide delegation, the film can't even be classified as a sequel at all. In more than a few markets, it was released as just “Trickbaby.” Yet the film is a definite thematic follow-up to the original. It's another brutal exploitation film, following female teen delinquents as they escape prison and defend themselves from murderers. The most direct connection between the two films is that both update Grimm fairy tales for the grindhouse movie set. If the original “Freeway” was “Little Red Riding Hood,” “Confessions of a Trickbaby” is “Hansel and Gretel.” A brother and sister on the run through the woods are switched up for teen girls merely posing as brother and sister. Crack rocks replace the trail of seeds through the woods. A house made of candy is replaced with a church full of food. Yet the inspiration is obvious and both stories end with a cannibalistic witch shoved into an oven. 

As a sequel of sorts, you can definitely see that “Confessions of a Trickbaby” was looking to top the original “Freeway” as an exercise in bad taste. The film embraces teenage depravity to a point that would impress Larry Clark. Its 15 year old heroines smoke, drink, and swear constantly. A notable scene has them huffing paint on the road. Cyclona is an nymphomaniac who propositions Crystal minutes after meeting her. Eventually, she gives into the other girl's sexual demands. Cyclona is also an impulsive killer, whose acts of madness include necrophilia as well. The two girls also frankly discuss the sexual abuse they both suffered as children. There's drugs and prostitution and threats of rape. Unlike the original, this one's prison setting does include a shower scene and the naked girl has a hook for a hand too. The first “Freeway” managed to show a certain intelligence under its grindhouse movie excess. “Confessions of a Trickbaby” isn't exactly dumb either but it piles on a lot more shock value.

Look no further than the film's treatment of bulimia. Right as the film's title comes up on-screen, Crystal kneels over a commode and retches. Later, there's a sequence where a whole group of teen girl prisoners get on their knees in the bathroom and empty their stomachs out. Later, they binge eat and then group-purge around a bucket. The climax of the film's vomit obsession occurs when Crystal unleashes a fire hose of puke over a sadistic prison nurse. The film tries to justify its fixation on spewing. Crystal's dysfunctional relationship with food is paired with an unquenchable hunger for something more, for catharsis or companionship. Yet the metaphor never quite comes together, making the bile-rising content feel like another element included in the sequel to shock and appall the viewer more than anything else. (And “Freeway II” is certainly not an in-depth or thoughtful look at the serious topic of bulimia in teenage girls.)

IMDb's trivia page insists notorious exploitation filmmaker Doris Wishman was the first choice to direct “Confessions of a Trickbaby,” before Matthew Bright signed up to return. I can find no further citation for this factoid, so it could be bullshit. But it does raise an interesting thought: Would the notoriously thrifty Wishman been able to make the movie look better or worst? “Freeway II” is notably cheaper looking than the original. The sequel takes place mostly within artificial looking sets. Cinematographer Joel Ransom has mostly worked on television. That's what “Freeway II” looks like most of the time. The sequel was distributed on VHS by Full Moon Entertainment, infamous purveyor of campy nineties horror films. (Matthew Bright wrote a few scripts for the company.) “Trickbaby's” cheap look and lack of production values also reminds me of the fast-and-cheap Full Moon house style.

Yet, for what it's worth, Matthew Bright tries to replicate the look of the original. Many of the film's cramped interior, such as Crystal and Cyclona's run-in with a vicious transient in a rail car, have the same sort to closed-in intensity to them as the original. The same bent surrealism that popped up in the original is also occasionally on display here as well. Cyclona's far-out visions of Sister Gomez or the drugged-out frenzy her sexual/murderous passions drive her to are depicted with the same sort of feverish imagery as the original's visions of grandma's house. “Freeway II” undeniably does not look as good as the first one but at least the creative team tried to make this look like a more expensive movie than it really was.

No matter how ugly the first “Freeway's” subject matter got, it had a pitch black sense-of-humor behind it that made all the sleaziness go down a little easier. “Confessions of a Trickbaby” is not that tonally consistent. There are obvious jokes here, such as the random group of crackheads who appear to smoke the rocks Crystal uses as markers in the woods. Or Cyclona's visions depicting Crystal as an armored warrior woman. Yet the movie's commitment to out-shocking the original ultimately leads the viewer into exhaustion. The last act rolls cannibalism, child sex slavery, a pedophile blood cult, and a torture dungeon into the plot. “Freeway II” tries to wrap up in a cathartic burst of gunfire and gore but the audience is dulled by the depravity and nihilism by that point. The sequel largely lacks the wit, razor sharp editing, and rocket sled pacing that made the original's shock tactics more palatable.

The first “Freeway's” fairy tale metaphor had a deeper purpose too. The “Red Riding Hood” parallels were in service of a wider point about how young women are preyed upon by men and society at large. “Confessions of a Trickbaby” arguably has a similar feminist subtext, though it's harder to see under all the puke and B-movie nastiness. The film also has strong female leads outsmarting and defeating the evil men in their lives. (Which, in an example of the film's shock content that has aged poorly, includes a transgender twist.) Yet the movie, inexplicably, gives a pass to Crystal's lawyer, who is portrayed as a literal pimp who takes advantage of his female clients. And, simply put, the moral of “Hansel and Gretel” isn't as widely applicable to our modern age as “Little Red Riding Hood” is. That story's messages – be weary of strangers with candy – is not updated as smoothly here. 

For all its flaws, “Freeway II” at least found a worthy heir to Reese Witherspoon's Vanessa. Natasha Lyonne plays Crystal. Sporting a gravelly smoker's voice, Lyonne immediately establishes that Crystal is exhausted. She's been fighting her entire life – so depersonalized by everyone around her that she goes by simply “White Girl” for most of the film – and it has left her hardened and broken. When she gets moments of freedom or joy, they are fleeting. Lyonne is a heroine you can really root for, as determined to survive as Witherspoon's Vanessa was but left far more damaged by a lifetime of abuse. The movie could execute it better but you still long to see her earn some catharsis.

If Lyonne's Crystal is desperately holding onto what sanity she has left, Marie Celedonia's Cyclonia left that behind long ago. Celedonia is extremely convincing as a girl totally torn apart by her inner turmoil. In some scenes, she's consumed by lusts she can't control and barely seems able to understands. Other times, she's frighteningly unhinged. Yet she also gives the impression of someone very child-like, especially during a moment where she wets herself on the road. Celedonia expertly combines all these elements in one consistent character, a person who victimizes but has ultimately been a victim far more often herself. 

While clearly a lower budget affair than the original, “Freeway II” still manages to slot some notable names into its supporting cast. Vincent Gallo plays Sister Gomez. Gallo underplays it in the part, cooing every line in a soft, comforting whisper while also putting off a subtle, discomforting energy. This is exactly what's needed for a character that pretends to heal people while doing monstrous acts. David Alan Grier goes in the opposite direction as Mr. Butz, Crystal's lawyer. Grier hams it up and makes a campy spectacle of himself, to mixed results. Michael T. Weiss is also very unnerving as the drifter who attempts to assault Crystal and Cyclona, looking as dirty and unhinged in the part as it clearly required. John Landis also has a cameo appearance as a judge, presumably because he had lots of experience seeing what the inside of a court room looked like. 

Matthew Bright presumably couldn't cash in another favor with his pal Danny Elfman, so the score here is not as memorable. However,  there are a couple of potent needle drops from Veruca Salt, Juliana Hatfield, and The Surf Trio. “Confessions of a Trickbaby” has been dismissed as both an underwhelming attempt to replicate the outrageous impact of the original with less of the comedy and pitch-perfect pacing. It's also been defended by a few folks as a worthy cult movie exercise in its own right. The sequel is definitely not as good as the first one, as its ugliness and trashiness gets exhausting long before it wraps up. It's simply not as inspired or layered as the first “Freeway.” Yet the cast and a few moments of inspired insanity makes it worth looking at. I'd say it's a bit better than its reputation implies. [Grade: C+]

Director Report Card: Matthew Bright (1996)

How do you go from being an up-and-coming cult movie auteur, a name destined to be spoken of in hushed tones by weirdo film nerds, to having absolutely no cinematic career at all? This is the question I've always had about Matthew Bright, who busted onto the scene in 1996 with the explosive “Freeway.” It turns out, one disastrous failure is all you need to torpedo a promising career. Yet I've always wondered if Bright didn't deserve a second look. As I watch my way through his four features, I'll attempt to assess what went right and what went wrong.

1. Freeway

Matthew Bright owes his career to Oingo Boingo. A close childhood friend of Richard and Danny Elfman, Bright would be a founding member of the iconic New Wave band. This was during its even weirder early days as a performance art collective called the Mystic Knights of the Oingo Boingo. This is how Bright came to work on “Forbidden Zone,” the group's exceedingly bizarre 1980 midnight movie extravaganza. Clearly, Bright caught the movie-making bug around that time. He'd go on to write five more features – including two low-budget horror films directed by Richard Elfman – before trying his hand at directing as well. Bright's behind-the-camera debut would carry on the demented style apparent in “Forbidden Zone,” reflecting the filmmaker's twisted sensibilities. And thus, “Freeway” would come into the world.

Teenage Vanessa's hard life is about to get much worst. Her mom is a prostitute. Her stepdad is a pervert. Both get arrested when the cop shows up. Rather than go back into foster care, she steals her parole officer's car. She decides to run off to the home of a grandmother she's never met. After the car breaks down, she is picked up by a seemingly benevolent man named Bob... Yet Bob is a wolf in sheep's clothing, as he's the sex lunatic that's been hacking up young girls on the freeway. Vanessa defends herself, shooting Bob in self-defense. He lives though, convinces the cops of his innocence, and gets Vanessa sent to jail. Yet Vanessa isn't done trying to get to her grandmother's house. And she hasn't had her last run-in with Bob either.

“Freeway” begins with underground comix style illustrations of Little Red Riding Hood, rendered as a big-eyed sex-pot in revealing outfits, being harassed by Tex Avery-style Big Bad Wolves. This make the film's intentions obvious from the very beginning. “Freeway” is a grindhouse style retelling of the Little Red Riding Hood story. Our young female protagonist still has the ultimate goal of making it to her grandmother's house. She even carries the childish image of a basket, loaded with blankets, in several scenes. Yet Vanessa is no virginal young maiden. She's a foul-mouthed delinquent prone to violent outbursts. The Big Bad Wolf is reinterpreted as a sexually sadistic serial killer, who pretends to help young girls before killing and violating them. If you didn't catch the metaphor already, Bob's last name is “Wolverton.” “Freeway” takes a twisted path to the iconic image of the Wolf in Grandma's clothes, slowly revealing his teeth, with a lot of sex, violence, profanity, and drugs along the way.

“Freeway” takes its exploitation inspiration to heart. This is a gloriously sleazy movie, which is evident in its main characters. There's really no description for Vanessa and her family other than “white trash.” Her mother is a literal crack whore, trying to pick up johns to support her habit. Her stepfather is a disgusting sleaze who is molesting Vanessa. The film is packed front-to-back with profanity, to the point where Vanessa cussing Bob out in the courtroom is only the most obvious moment of colorful swearing. The depiction of low-income and criminal life is clearly played for twisted laughs at various points. When Vanessa's most murderous action is contrasted with a cartoonish shooting star, or a limping classmate of her's shoves her camel toe directly into the camera, we are obviously meant to laugh. These are grotesque caricatures of real life trailer park residents, exaggerated even further for our amusement.

As much as “Freeway” luxuriates in the trashiness of its world, it ultimately takes Vanessa's plight totally seriously. The opening scene depicts her struggling to pronounce a third-grade level word, proving she’s functionally illiterate and probably has a severe learning disability. Her upbringing, where she was ignored by a drug addict mother and abused by a monstrous stepfather, has left her with few opportunities in life. When she's in court, it doesn't matter what the truth is. Of course the system is going to convict the foul-mouthed teenage delinquent with a history of violence. The characters are "trash," in the sense that they've been discarded by everyone around them with little care or thought. "Freeway" functions as an outrageous midnight movie experience but it has nothing for sympathy for its damaged, disaffected protagonist. 

That Vanessa turns to violence to defend herself is unsurprising. She lives in a world of violence. Her boyfriend, one of the few people who seems to actually care about her, is murdered in a drive-by shooting early in the film. Vanessa's always been used and abused by those around her. She continues to be victimized throughout the story, by a psychopath like Bob and the predatory prison system. "Freeway" is an underground comix version of our reality but the point it's making is true: Young girls are preyed upon by the world, surrounded by figures that equally desire them and want to destroy them. The Brothers Grimm said this in the 17th century and it was just as true when "Freeway" was made in the mid-nineties. When Vanessa uses the tools of her oppressors to fight back, when posing as a prostitute to steal a john's car or during her final confrontation with Bob, it can't help but come off as cathartic. The prey has become the predator and, in "Freeway's" twisted world (and frequently our own), that's the closest thing to justice that can actually exist. 

I think this does, in a roundabout kind of way, make "Freeway" a feminist film. But don't mistake the movie for a high-minded act of system-shaking transgression. This was designed to be a cult movie, filled with the kind of outrageous bad behavior tailor-made to make rowdy audiences whoop and cheer. There's an obscene poetry of sorts to the frequently profane dialogue. The subplot involving Bob's wife resolves itself in an especially lurid fashion. Bob's inward evil soon outwardly manifests itself in a grotesque facial deformity, which slowly builds towards the frenzied, violent, outrageous ending. Probably the most indefensible moment involves Vanessa unleashing a flurry of racial slurs against a black detective. Moments like this remind you that “Freeway” is, philosophically anyway, basically a Troma movie with a bigger budget. 

“Freeway” most blatantly pays homage to its grindhouse roots in a long section, where Vanessa is incarcerated. Yes, “Freeway” includes a mini “women in prison” flick in the middle of its runtime. It includes many of the expected beats of this genre. Vanessa has to assert herself against the prison block queen bitch by beating her up. She has a clingy, lesbian bunk mate. She carves a shiv out of a toothbrush and, of course, there's a daring, bloody escape. “Freeway” honestly handles this material with a little more sensitivity than you'd expect. There's no communal shower and the other prisoners are surprisingly humanized. Yet it's another way the film expresses its outrageous, gleefully sleazy soul. 

Perhaps what truly elevates “Freeway” and makes it not just a fun exploitation movie but also a compelling thriller is its two central performances. Reese Witherspoon, after “The Man in the Moon” but before “Fear,” stars as Vanessa. Witherspoon does an excellent job of balancing two key components of the character. She is vulnerable, as a young girl in a world full of danger, yet she is driven by an indomitable will. Once Vanessa starts fighting, she doesn't quit and her tactics are brutal. Witherspoon's ability to make Vanessa both a scared young girl – apparent in the moment she hears her boyfriend is dead – and a ruthless survivor creates an unforgettable protagonist. “Freeway” wouldn't have worked without such a believable, charismatic heroine. (Her Texas accent is pretty good too.)

Starring opposite Witherspoon, and probably the biggest name in the film at the time, is Kiefer Sutherland. Sutherland's performance has a dual quality too. Bob has to appear kind and sympathetic towards Vanessa's plight at first, before eventually revealing his evil intentions. The moment that happens, when a line of questioning turns from helpful to predatory, Kiefer puts on an evil grin. The Good Samaritan act is a mask to cover up a completely sadistic son-of-a-bitch. Once that slips, Sutherland truly revels in playing this evil bastard. Even when behind heavy make-up in the last act, his wolf smile permanently etched onto his face, he oozes sinister intent and despicable pleasure for his evil acts. Truly the line “That's not all I did to your grandma” could not be more disgustingly delivered by anyone else.

The supporting cast is game too, with some actors seeming in on the joke and others playing it totally straight. Amanda Plummer appears in the very Amanda-Plummer-like role of Vanessa's mother. Plummer carries the desperate quality you'd expect from a woman in this situation, as exaggerated as the movie around her. Brooke Shields appears as Bob's wife, totally clueless about her husband's nocturnal activities. Shields hams it up as a caricature of a persecuted rich white woman and it's hilarious. Dan Hedaya, meanwhile, goes the opposite direction as the detective investigating Vanessa's case. He plays a typical Hedaya cop character, with some attitude but mostly seeming unaware of the kind of movie he's in. That makes for a nice contrast.

“Freeway” is a film with a clear narrative aesthetic. It knows exactly what kind of darkly comedic, utterly twisted, strangely subversive story it's telling. This continues over into the film's cinematography. Bright's direction varies between two modes. Sometimes, the film's visual construction is gritty and intimate. Some scenes feature a handheld style, such as when Vanessa and Chopper meet for the last time. Other moments are carefully framed and tightly edited, seen in Vanessa and Bob's conversation in his car. Occasionally, there's bursts of surrealism too. Like during Vanessa's dreams about her grandmother's house, which looks right out of “Forbidden Zone.” It's more subtle than it sounds and shows an assured hand behind the camera. 

Considering the two are friends, it's unsurprising that Danny Elfman stepped in to provide the score for “Freeway.” Elfman fuses some of his audio trademarks, such as willowy choirs of “la-la”-ing kids and whimsical percussion, with a more discordant sound. Persistent strings are a common presence in the soundtrack. This also includes some hard-edged shrieking rock guitars, with a few moments even veering towards a heavy metal or punk rock sound. This immediately establishes “Freeway's” world as one with childish elements but perverse danger lurking around every corner. That dissonance defines many of the film's more intense moments, raising the tension. Elfman also throws in some blues/rockabilly sounding numbers, which fits the youthful characters and the hardscrabble setting. 

You'd expect a movie like “Freeway,” that so happily embraces bad taste, would outrage the stately critical establishment. And a few reviewers responded in that way. However, the movie was surprisingly well received. Maybe it's just because this was the post-Tarantino nineties, when film writers were thoroughly primed to enjoy an outrageous exploitation throwback like this. “Freeway” acquired a cult following quickly, becoming a reoccurring favorite on cable. That's where I first saw the movie, going in knowing nothing besides its “Little Red Riding Hood” premise, and was thoroughly charmed and entertained by it. Bright created an unexpectedly wild and deceptively smart thrill ride here. It impresses me every time I revisit it. [Grade: A]

Director Report Card: Michael Lehmann (2007) - Part Two

9. Flakes

When talking about “Because I Said So,” I mentioned that it was one of two new Michael Lehmann movies to come out in 2007... Kind of. While “Because I Said So” was a major studio production that had a wide release in February of that year, Lehmann's next film was “Flakes.” “Flakes” was a low budget, independently produced project. The movie had an extremely limited theatrical release in December of 2007. How limited exactly? It played in one theater, for a span of nine days, ultimately grossing all of 778 dollars. Judging by several images I can find online, “Flakes” was later released on DVD as a Blockbuster Video exclusive. Eventually, a more easily acquired disc would arrive but the fact of the matter remains: “Flakes” was barely released. I didn't even know the movie was readily available at all until years after first reading about it. What exactly is this motion picture about and why was it essentially discarded?  

The film follows Neal, who dreams of making rock music but spends most of his time working at Flakes. That's a cereal bar in downtown New Orleans, which specializes in the rarest and most collectible types of sugary breakfast grains. While Flakes has a small customer base of die-hard cereal nerds, Neal's girlfriend – an artist who calls herself Pussy Katz – feels like he's stagnating. She keeps pushing him to take a week off from work and focus on making an album. When a son of a rich lawyer opens a more commercial cereal bar with a nearly identical name directly across the street, Pussy marches over there and gets a job. Neal's attempts to bankrupt the rival business backfires and soon the original Flakes is run out of business. Directionless and now unemployed, Neal is forced to confront his dying ambition and fracturing relationship.

As someone who is fascinated by weirdo subcultures and strange fandoms, I think setting a movie inside the world of hardcore cereal people is an interesting idea. Some folks might not even be aware that such a group exist but it's true: There's a cereal collector community out there. They trade packs of unopened product from decades back, rating specimens on freshness and preservation. They scrutinize box designs over the years and detail every minor alteration made. They endlessly debate their favorite flavors and mascots. Passionate fan followings like this are certainly rich grounds for storytelling. Cereal bars were a concept also just starting to pick up steam in 2007, giving “Flakes” a degree of novelty.

However, “Flakes” is not really about cereal fandom. Characters discuss forgotten brands, talk about the history of the industry, and debate obscure facts. Freakies is a minor plot point, for one example of that. Yet “Flakes” isn't truly concerned with breakfast food. Instead, this is a movie about a different subcultures that was a topic of conversation in the mid-2000s: Hipsters. Neal doesn't show his superiority over others by claiming to be into some band before they got popular. Instead, he lords his cereal knowledge over other people. Yet he still considers himself cooler and more sophisticated than other people around him. Despite, in truth, being an emotionally arrested man-child in an extended state of adolescence. If the mumblecore films that came to dominate indie film culture in the years directly before and after “Flakes” came out were cinema made for and by hipsters, this film feels like a deliberate attempt to replicate the cultural movement those filmmakers belonged to on-screen. Hipstersploitation, if you will.

I don't think riding the coattails of the Duplass Brothers and Joe Swanberg was the goal of “Flakes.” Mumblecore wouldn't formulate as a genre until after this movie came out. Aside from being about insufferable twenty-somethings, “Flakes” has nothing in common with those movies. The film's screenwriters, Chris Poche and Karey Kirkpatrick, have worked almost entirely in animation otherwise. Michael Lehmann was obviously a seasoned pro, by this point. In a lot of ways, “Flakes” feels like the sitcom version of hipster life. Yet it still touches upon maybe the biggest aspect of that style: The appearance of being genuine, of having real street cred. Neal hates the knock-off Flakes because it's corporate. It's not indie. It's a capitalistic repackaging of a ramshackle, sincere idea. When Pussy gets a job at the rival Flakes store, he sees it as selling out. He spends a lot of time talking about this. It reminded me of how the doofy metalheads in “Airheads” hated anything compromising the “realness” of the rock music they loved. 

Yet, as much as Neal talks about his integrity, he doesn't actually do much. Pussy criticizes him for wasting all his time at Flakes, at a pedestrian job, instead of pursuing his supposed dream of making real art. In a weird way, I can't help but wonder if this idea didn't speak to Lehmann in a personal way. Here's a guy who started out making off-beat movies like “Heathers” and “Meet the Applegates.” Who then ended up directing forgettable, crass studio products like “40 Days and 40 Nights” and “Because I Said So.” Was making a tiny indie film like this an attempt by the director to recapture the edgy weirdness of his acclaimed early work? Did Lehmann see himself in someone who wants to make real art but is instead wrapped up in the daily grind of working? Is directing TV and mediocre romantic-comedies the equivalent of working in a cereal bar? Ultimately, Neal comes to the conclusion (rather out of the blue) that it's his calling in life to remix low culture into something new. Is that how Lehmann saw himself, the goal he found himself pushing towards?

It's a tempting idea but one that falls apart quickly enough. Because Neal isn't a frustrated artist forced to participate in a monotonous system. Instead, he loves Flakes. He talks about being a musician and seems to like the idea of starting an indie rock band. Yet it seems sitting around and bickering all day with other cereal bros is his actual passion. While this is actually a pretty accurate depiction of real hipsterdom, “Flakes” doesn't delve into Neal's psychology very much. Instead, he's characterized simply as a man-child that needs to grow up. When it seems like the film is leaning into making Neal an irredeemable asshole – when he tries to sabotage the other cereal bar, by passing out bogus flyers or getting a job there – that is when it's most interesting. When the script ultimately decides that Neal earns redemption by doing some minor (and mostly off-screen) maturing, it feels like a cop-out. If this had been a movie about the malignant narcissism and petty bitterness of hipsters and all gatekeepers, it might've been something. Instead, “Flakes” decides this dick becomes less of a dick when he starts seriously pursuing an actual life goal. (I can't imagine starting a band would make a guy like Neal less insufferable.)

This is far from the only way “Flakes” ending cops out. Neal and Pussy are obviously ridiculous characters. He's a cereal hipster and she's an impossibly quirky bohemian artist. It's very difficult to be invested in whether or not these two will get together at the end. Especially since Neal is obviously an asshole and no self-respecting woman like that would ever put up with his bullshit. She repeatedly antagonizes him before they officially break up, all in some misguided attempt to help him mature. So when he makes all the changes she asked for to his life over the course of a montage, and they reunite in a farcical manner, it feels both unlikely and dishonest. The movie gets weirdly serious before springing back towards wacky again, all in preparation for a bullshit happy ending that feels overly neat.

Maybe Pussy Katz devotes so much time to fixing a maladjusted boy-man because she's a textbook Manic Pixie Dream Girl. You can tell that's what she is because she's played by Zooey Deschanel. This was just around the time when the blue-eyed and black-banged Deschanel's reputation for playing exactly this character type had started to crystallize. The self-reflective “500 Days of Summer” was a few years out and the self-parody of “New Girl” was even further off. As much as Miss Pussy Katz is a standard MPDG, Deschanel is one of the best things about “Flakes.” She's gorgeous, funny, charming, bubbly. The film actually spends less time on defining the character's overbearing quirkiness than you'd expect, allowing Deschanal to bounce off Aaron Stanford as Neal more. It reminds you why we all fell for her around this time. She really was pretty adorable when doing this kind of thing. 

And what of Stanford? The stubbly, bug-eyed actor is an oddball choice for a leading man, that off-beat physicality being emphasized by the long, greasy hair he wears here. That makes him pretty believable as a self-centered cereal nerd with vaguely defined dreams, petty motivations, and a girlfriend way out of his league. When trading goofy dialogue with Deschanal, Stanford is even likable. In a better film, more willing to follow this character down the clearly self-destructive path he's on, he probably would've given a much stronger performance. When paired with a script that wimps out, Stanford can't make Neal anything more than a caricature of a particular type of person. A realistic one, sure, but not a fully formed one with much in the way of depth.

Even if the script fails them in some ways, Stanford and Deschanel give decent performances. They are surrounded by likable actors and characters. Christopher Lloyd plays Willie, the extremely burnt-out old hippie that owns the cereal bar. This is the kind of colorful supporting role Lloyd excels at, of course. His rants about the origins of cereal, and the riots and civil wars that followed, are a highlight of the film. Frank Wood is similarly entertaining as Bruce, the hyper-knowledgeable and conceited dork who likes to challenge everyone on cereal facts. This is a personality type which will be very familiar to anyone who frequents comic book shops. Wood exactly inhabits that style of sweaty obnoxiousness. John McConnell also shows up for a small role as a boisterous, colorful lawyer in the last act. 

And yet, for all its flaws, I can't help but find “Flakes” kind of compelling. It's definitely the Michael Lehmann movie that feels the most like his work since the early nineties. The dialogue is profane. The characters have weird conversations, trading hyper-specific language and insults back-and-forth. There's effective bursts of surrealism, like when a rare donut-sized Cheerio becomes a minor plot point. The sets of the cereal shops have some real home-made personality to them, reminding me a little of the exaggerated sets of “Heathers” and “Meet the Applegates.” The cinematography looks pretty cheap and the movie is lit like a TV show. Yet even that is somewhat endearing, reflecting a certain D.I.Y. sensibility that works for me. Even if “Flakes” still feels like a script that was watered down by studio notes, it's definitely the most Lehmann-y Lehmann project he made in a long time. 

Whatever hopes and dreams were wrapped up in “Flakes,” they would ultimately go unfulfilled. The film obviously hasn't been seen by very many people. It has the fewest amount of views of all of Lehmann's feature work on Letterboxd, with only 1443 users claiming to have watched it. It's obvious that very little effort was expended in marketing the film. It's sole poster is of a nondescript shot of Deschanal sitting at a table, that tells you nothing about the film's story. The DVD art features images of Zooey and Aaron Stanford that aren't even from this movie, against a blinding green background. What critics that did see the film trashed it. I wouldn't exactly call “Flakes” a hidden gem either, as it's pretty mediocre in a lot of ways. Yet it does have a handful of things about it that are mildly interesting. I would rather Michael Lehmann made more movies like this than things like “Because I Said So.” [Grade: C+]

Regardless of the film's actual quality, it seems “Flakes'” total non-reception was the last straw for Michael Lehmann's career as a feature film director. He has since devoted himself entirely to directing television. He's actually proven quite prolific in that field, directing 92 episodes of various series since 2007. That includes lengthy runs on shows like “True Blood,” “Bored to Death,” and “Californication.” His most recent credit is also the closest thing to a movie he's made recently: He directed all three and a half hours of the Netflix mini-series, “The Woman in the House Across the Street from the Girl in the Window,” a parody of Lifetime domestic thrillers that got pretty mediocre notices. But I still might give it a look.

Obviously, just looking at Michael Lehmann's career as a feature film director, you can't help but be disappointed. This guy knocked it out of the park with a great movie on his first go. He then made a couple of other things that weren't as strong but were at least weird and interesting. After that, he directed a string of movies that weren't very good or memorable. All along, it's been hard to blame him – or at least blame him totally – for a lot of these projects turning out badly. In that regard, perhaps he's simply been a very unlucky filmmaker, constantly being hassled by meddling execs and pushy stars. I don't know the whole story but the guy does seem pretty self-effacing about it. He's certainly found his niche in recent years, so good for him. And we'll always have “Heathers.” A lot of directors haven't even made one undeniable classic, so that makes Michael Lehmann cool in my book. 

Director Report Card: Michael Lehmann (2007) Part One

8. Because I Said So

Even though "40 Days and 40 Nights" made a little bit of money, the period immediately following that film's release is when Michael Lehmann turned his primary focus from feature films to television. Between 2002 and 2007, he directed 9 episodes of TV, such as installments of "Wonderfalls" and "The Comeback." Maybe those past box office failures caught up with him. Maybe he was tired of trying to sneak his quirky sense of humor into bland studio comedies. Judging from the results, I can't imagine that was very satisfying. Or perhaps TV was just more fulfilling at this point. Whatever the reason, Lehmann has mostly done TV in the last two decades... Except for the year 2007, where he had two new feature films, kind of. The first of these to see release was "Because I Said So," which saw the filmmaker returning to the romantic comedy genre that had given him his greatest commercial success so far. 

Daphne raised three daughters by herself after her husband died. Oldest daughters Maggie and Mae are successful professionals with husbands. Youngest Milly, however, can't seem to find the right man. Manipulative and smothering Daphne decides this is her problem to solve. She places a wanted ad to find Milly a mate. The most promising candidate is Jason and Daphne secretly sets up a meeting. However, the ad also catches the attention of guitarist Johnny, who also meets Milly and becomes smitten with her. Soon, Milly has to choose between two men... But maybe her mother's prying ways is what she should be most concerned about. 

"Because I Said So" is mostly a vehicle for Diane Keaton, who was experiencing an unexpected career resurgence in the mid-2000s after the surprise success of "Something's Gotta Give." Keaton, of course, is an Oscar winning actress of incredible charm and talent. However, Keaton's abilities are not enough to overcome that Daphne is a terrible person. She is constantly criticizing Milly, insulting her appearances and nitpicking every life choice she makes. A mother trying to secretly manipulate her daughter into dating what she thinks is the ideal partner is, ya know, crazy. In real life, that would be horror movie behavior. The film takes its title from Daphne's catchphrase, which is a good example of the tyrannical hold she wants over her children's lives. She's a deeply selfish person. No matter how much "Because I Said So" may or may not acknowledge this, it still wants us to like Daphne. That's just impossible because the character is a nightmare parent whose psychotic actions should not be tolerated in any form.

If "Because I Said So" was a knowingly fucked-up satire, like "Heathers," maybe such an irredeemably awful character would be an interesting choice. But this isn't that kind of movie. Instead, "Because I Said So" endeavors to be a wacky screwball comedy. In order to make Daphne endearing, I guess, the script also makes her ludicrously clumsy. This results in a number of slapstick sequence that are so aggressively wacky, they become obnoxious. Daphne tries to stalk Milly on her date with Jason, nearly crashing her car in the process. She drags a cellphone through cake batter while burning brownies. Her computer repeatedly clicks on a porn site, resulting in erotic noises echoing through the room while she struggles to turn it off. It's pedestrian, at best, and honestly makes me feel embarrassed for Diane Keaton. Is subpar pratfalls like this what Annie Hall deserves?

Unfortunately for the viewer, most of "Because I Said So's" humor is pitched at this manic level. There's so many annoying characters in this movie. Such as Maggie's deeply neurotic patient, that the film repeatedly humiliates in mean-spirited ways. Or Johnny's son, a rambunctious little boy who throws cakes in people's faces, insults people, and shouts about boys having penises and girls having vaginas. (A joke stolen from "Kindergarten Cop.") The scene of Daphne screening potential mates for her daughter features a lot of broad characters doing annoying things. The film is so desperate for laughs that it, once again, resorts to the animal reaction shot. Daphne's golden retriever also randomly humps things, in another aggravatingly loud attempt at humor. There's also at least two unflattering racial stereotypes, in the form of Chinese masseurs and a singing Indian man.

"Because I Said So" isn't just annoying, it's obvious too. Ostensibly, the dramatic crux of the story is whether Milly will choose Johnny or Jason as her future husband. Jason is a micro-manager with a bit of a temper, who has no problem going along with Daphne's insane scheme. Johnny, meanwhile, is a calm, endlessly patient man who teaches disabled kids to play guitar on the weekends. It's immediately evident which guy Milly will end up with in the end. I guess the film deserves points for not making Johnny a full-blown villain. He's just a normal, boring jerk. Yet I can't give the script any credit for expecting us to get invested in whether Milly will go with the boring asshole or the most perfect guy the screenwriters could conceive.

Keaton is more or less the star of the film. Daphne even gets her own romantic subplot, eventually developing a relationship with Johnny's stepdad. (There's no acknowledgement of how that's kind of weird.) However, "Because I Said So" is also something of a vehicle for Mandy Moore. Moore, a mildly charming actress I guess, did a string of mediocre rom-coms around this time too. Moore at least succeeds in making Milly less off-putting than her mom. She's also comically clumsy but Moore is thankfully spared any hideously broad physical comedy of her own. Milly also sings in two scenes, seemingly a nod towards Moore's forgettable side hustle as a bubblegum pop princess. Moore may not be all that compelling an actress but her scenes in "Because I Said So" is among the film's more tolerable. 

Milly does have something else in common with her though: She's also a terrible person. Instead of calling it off with Jason when she meets Johnny, she decides to date them both at the same time. Without telling either of them. Yes, she's having sex with both men as well. Yeah, the movie's down-to-earth protagonist is a cheater. Usually rom-coms consider infidelity the most unforgivable of crimes. For some reason, Milly mostly gets a pass for it. The cheating provides the obligatory end-of-the-second-act contrivances that forced the boy and the girl apart, that all rom-coms must include. Ultimately, both men forgive her selfish, deceitful actions and Milly still ends up with the right guy. I guess it's okay when Mandy Moore does it

Perhaps there’s a reason “Because I Said So” deemed it necessary to have Milly sleep with both of the guys pursuing here. Much like Lehmann’s previous movie, this one is uncomfortably horny in many ways. The four female leads are introduced in their underwear, the camera lingering strangely on their behinds. It is shown that Milly’s sisters have healthy sex lives of their own. Daphne’s love affair with her daughter’s boyfriend’s dad is consummated on-screen. The thing about this that makes me feel most uncomfortable is the frank way Daphne’s daughters talk with their moms about their sex lives. Maybe that’s not an unusual habit for some families. Maybe I’ve got hang-ups. But the idea of my mom ever talking to me about how often she orgasms makes my skin want to crawl right off my body. All the humping was expected in a crude comedy like “40 Days and 40 Nights” but definitely feels a little unsightly in a light PG-13 flick like this. The film’s weirdly horny side extended to the marketing, which included panties with the character’s names written across the back. 

This, it turns out, is not the only aspect “Because I Said So” shared with “40 Days and 40 Nights.” Much like “My Giant” as well, this is a wacky comedy that develops a strangely maudlin streak in its last third. There’s an extended phone conversation where Daphne breaks down in tears, trying to apologize to her daughter for being such a horrible mother. The film stops just shy of the character truly accepting full responsibly for her controlling actions. Daphne is forgiven far too easily. Even if the film was, somehow, able to pull off a tonal shift like this, it’s difficult to take an emotional moment like this too seriously when Daphne’s humanity has already been stripped away by so many scenes of broad slapstick. The character is a total cartoon character and trying to have her cry and emote about her flaws simply isn’t believable.

I’ll admit, this was actually my second time watching “Because I Said So.” I rented it from Netflix not too long after it first came out on DVD, largely because “Gilmore Girls’” Lauren Graham plays Maggie. Graham is, in fact, one of the film’s few bright spots. Though the character is still ridiculous, the relationship she shares with her most dysfunctional patient is mildly amusing. It was also nice to see an energetic Piper Perabo as Mae. The rest of “Because I Said So’s’ cast isn’t really worth mentioning. Neither Gabriel Macht, as Johnny, or Tom Everett Scott, as Jason, can rise above the material. However, one face does stick out… Stephen Collins plays Johnny’s dad. He shares several scenes with the young boy playing Johnny’s son. Collins was best known, at the time, for his role on wholesome show “7th Heaven” but is now perhaps better known for being a convicted child molester. This certainly adds a very different uncomfortable layer to many of his scenes. 

Once again, it’s wholly impossible to see much of the visual playfulness that defined Lehmann’s earlier work in this bland studio rom-com. However, you can see the director, straining to add some sort of energy to the movie in a couple of scenes. A few moments feature split-screen phone conversations with the sisters and their mother. There’s at least one sped-up montage of Milly and Daphne rearranging a living room together. (Another strained metaphor for how the mother controls her daughter’s life.) The film concludes with a cartoonish close-up of a wedding cake careening off a cliff side. All of these touches come off as desperate and overly wacky. Yet, at the same time, they are still the most likable moments in a movie otherwise defined by shrill obnoxiousness. 

At the very least, I am not alone in disliking “Because I Said So.” The film received heinous reviews over all, with the majority of critics agreeing that it’s painfully unfunny. A small audience still turned out for the movie in theaters and it was not a total box office loss, though still far from a runaway hit either. It’s possible, had “Because I Said So” not made its mother character such an unforgivable monster, that it might have been a salvageable project. Yet even if you changed that, you’d still be left with a movie far too reliant on rom-com clichés and annoying sequences of cartoonish slapstick. It all adds up to be a wholly unpleasant viewing experience. The director, the cast, and audiences deserved far better than this. [Grade: F]