TIFF Report: WEIRDSVILLE Review

[With TIFF about to start, I'm bringing back my earlier review of Alan Moyle's Weirdsville (which is screening there) to the front page]

What makes a good slacker flick? A good guess would be a plot (comedy, thriller, whathaveyou) involving characters which take a certain glee in dropping out of so-called normal society with their eccentric group of friends to form their own eclectic family with very insular pursuits, generally possessing either a lack of or a ridiculous overabundance of ambition. Walter, The Dude and Donny in The Big Lebowski, the meth addiction circle in The Salton Sea, or the heroin crew in Trainspotting to name a few examples. Throw in a plot that rapidly engulfs the central characters and forces them to be tossed around by the eddies and currents of people with various agendas and you have got yourself a nice little sub-genre.

I think director Alan Moyle (who directed the other left of centre films Pump up the Volume and Empire Records in the 1990s) and in particular screenwriter Willem Wennekers understand this (the script is fabulous in how connected events fly apart and random events lock together), but his film suffers more than a little bit in the execution.

Weirdsville follows a trio of junked out slackers, fittingly (although cute screenplay town names is a bit of a personal pet peeve) from town of Weedsville, over the course of a single night (flashbacks not included). Dexter (the introspective one), Royce (the ideas man) and Mattie (Royce's girlfriend who works as a hooker for extra cash) have a $1500 drug debt to Omar the drug dealer. Omar and his bodyguard have an interesting variation on breaking legs: busting heads with a curling stone (Yes, this film is proudly Canadian). Dexter and Royce agree to push some drugs for Omar to pay off their debt; but it isn't long before Royce and Mattie have consumed most of the stash. Mattie happens to know of a rich house in the neighborhood run by an ex-hippie (Matt Frewer) who keeps a huge chunk of cash in his safe, of which she possesses the combination. But Mattie OD's on Omar's stash and Royce and Dexter hatch the desperate plan to bury Mattie's body in the basement of the local drive-in theatre while doing the safe heist to pay their escalating debt to Omar. These are not really spoilers, as all of this happens in the opening minutes. Things start to get a bit more surreal when you mix in a satanic cult in oxford attire, a local chapter of medieval battle re-enacting dwarves, a uniquely Canadian head injury (not involving curling) and spray-on mayonnaise.

Slacker flicks are with a few exceptions rarely known for substance (unless that substance being injected or inhaled) instead focusing on the antics of their lead characters. The main trio are across the board excellent. Dexter may possibly be the best performance given by Scott Speedman as the more grounded of the dysfunctional group. His dialogue and character has to fluctuate from distantly ironic to having to deal with the shit caused by his none too bright buddy, Royce. Wes Bently who turned heads in American Beauty (as the kid who finds poetry in plastic grocery bags) has quietly moved into more obscure period offerings like Michael Winterbottom's The Claim. Wildly over the top and addled, Royce is like a member of Almost Famous' Stillwater by way of a Steve Zahn sidekick. And Taryn Manning, looking something like a drug addled hybrid of Goldie Hawn and Marley Shelton, has a scene or two of genuine pathos mixed in with her sad party girl character.

No problems with the script, no problems with the principle performances -- where Weirdsville collapsed for me was the direction and the supporting performances. Too many of oddball supporting rolls were just off-kilter and not 100% convincing -- it just felt like folks were acting (and this included Matt “Max Headroom” Frewer amongst the dozen or so supporting roles). This in turn makes the film feel like it is reaching, or trying too hard. Also, Moyle shifts tone and visual style seemingly without purpose a little too often. A murder in the first third of the film seems horrible and inconsequential at the same time. Nice touches like the frequently recurring rat carcass and a hallucinogenic image of a levitating ice-skater (a curious coincidence to the now defunct HBO show John from Cincinnati) are drowned out by over-use of Michael Bay-esque blue and yellow filters and other non sequitur stylistic touches. This everything and the kitchen sink approach served the French Canadian action comedy Bon Cop, Bad Cop quite well, but it does Weirdsville no favours.

Canada has a long history with the slacker flick, from serious dramatic efforts like Goin' Down The Road and The Rowdy Man to more over-the-top comedy like Strange Brew or Trailer Park Boys. The hoser-gene is buried deep in the Canuck DNA. In the sea of these types of post 1990s slacker flicks, Weirdsville falls somewhere in between Fubar and Phil the Alien; more of a ripple than a wave.