Very Bad Things

(This review by guest writer Deb Hill, filling in for ailing critic David Medsker)

Giggle, giggle. Blush, blush. I attended the Chicago premiere of "Very Bad Things" last night, and it was, like, wow, I mean, you know? Just sooo, like, totally, I mean, really, just, wow. The best part of the movie was when John Cusack sat down directly behind me. His performance as a member of the theatergoing public was extremely convincing, demonstrating his years of careful practice and research.

Throughout the film Cusack showed that he knows what it means to go to a movie. He bought popcorn and ate it while he was watching the movie, and he drank some soda too. He also brought some friends with him (Jeremy Piven, Fisher Stevens, and Ron Harper, among others) to watch the movie, because he knows that part of the fun of going to movies is doing it with your friends. And to top it off, demonstrating how deeply he understands his characters, John hardly talked at all during the movie, because his character knew that that is not polite.

At the end of the movie, John watched the credits, talked to his friends a little bit, and then left, just like a real moviegoer would do. He is truly the actor of our generation, and I will be very upset if the Academy does not give him the merit he deserves for this performance.  Grade: *****+

Okay, okay...I just had to get that out of my system. I'm still a little excited from my encounter with the Beautiful People. Now here's the real review:

At the beginning of Very Bad Things, bride-to-be Laura (Cameron Diaz, who goes from playing every man's dream girl in There's Something About Mary to every man's worst nightmare in this film) warns her fiancé Kyle (Jon Favreau) that he's going to have to "rethink some of his friendships," because she just can't see some of his buddies in "the Big Picture" of their married life.

Maybe Kyle should have listened.

Instead, he sets out for Las Vegas with said buddies, four boyhood friends whose sole aim is to give Kyle a bachelor party he will never forget. Unfortunately, they succeed--but not in the way they had intended. After a prelude marked by considerable substance abuse, the real "entertainment" of the evening arrives in their hotel suite: a buxom, exotic, and ultimately doomed stripper.

As a result of a freak accident, the stripper is killed...and the men must decide whether to turn themselves in and plead for leniency and understanding, or dump the body in the desert and get on with their lives.

Guess which option wins?

In the spirit of Pulp Fiction and Fargo, Very Bad Things delivers a story that is--often within the same scene--both hysterically funny and brutally shocking. The men's initial bad yet understandable decision propels them toward a course of even worse--yet equally understandable--decisions, with gruesome results.

First-time writer/director (and soon-to-be-former Chicago Hope actor) Peter Berg has crafted an extremely impressive debut. His satire of the wedding industry is dead-on, and his blacker-than-black sense of humor consistently delivers shrieks of both horror and laughter in the same breath. In addition, he coaxes a stellar acting job out of his cast.

Cameron Diaz in particular delivers another fine performance as the bitchy-yet-likable bride-on-a-mission, who obsesses over every minute detail of her wedding with blazing focus and frighteningly real concern. She is the cliche of the pushy, overbearing bride brought to life and exaggerated to hilarious degree. Nothing, but nothing, is going to interfere with the day she has been planning and waiting for for twenty-seven years, and her fiancé knows this all too well.

Christian Slater, Jon Favreau and Jeremy Piven also turn in strong performances. Slater's role, while admittedly not much of a stretch, is at least a refreshing twist on his usual "smug punk" character. Slater plays Robert Boyd, a real estate salesman who has thrived as a result of self-esteem training, and who flouts his own supposedly superior "inner strength" in the face of the other men's indecision. Piven shows great range as the least mature and least well-adjusted of the groom's friends, while Favreau's calm-yet-terrified focus as the groom-to-be provides the perfect center to the storm that surrounds him.

The film will likely be criticized for its graphic violence, and it will surely receive some flak for its final scene, which demonstrates what has to be the poorest taste I've ever seen on film (Tip: see the film before the fuss is raised, or the ending will be spoiled for you).

But you know what? The scene is still just as wickedly funny as the rest of the movie, and the ending wouldn't be as strong without it. Very Bad Things is filled with very good, dark, "I-can't-believe-I'm-laughing-at-this" humor; unfortunately, I can't highlight any examples for fear of spoiling the surprises. You'll just have to trust me.

So, this Thanksgiving weekend, check your conscience at the door, and check out the freshest, most daring black comedy since Fargo. You'll be glad you did . . .as long as you do it before that big dinner rather than after.

An extra bonus star for giving Jeanne Tripplehorn a broken nose (okay, that's one surprise revealed, but it happens early and we all know she deserves it anyway as her karmic fate for her performances in Waterworld and The Firm).