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    		•

    FILMS

    The Boondock Saints (1999)
  • Starring Willem Dafoe, Sean Patrick Flanery, Norman Reedus, David Della Rocco, Billy Connolly

  • Written and directed by Troy Duffy

    • Considering how The Boondock Saints deals with religion and such, I figure it might be apropos to make my confession: I have a bad habit. I don't know if it's just me, or if any of you people have this habit but I tend to get turned off whenever someone suggest I watch a movie or read a book. They don't even have to be forceful about it. It's stupid and it's horrible and it takes a lot of arm-twisting or passage of time for me to "get around" to watching or reading. What can I say? I'm an idiot. Perhaps there's something in me that likes to "discover" books and movies for myself. And the queer duality that is my personality absolutely loves to recommend books and films to other people; in fact, I even like to sit down and watch good movies I've already seen with people who haven't seen them. It's almost like I'm "showing it to them."

    A couple of years ago my friend Stuart Bowen mentioned how he really loved this movie called The Boondock Saints. I don't even think he was recommending, per se, that I watch it. It was one of those casual conversations where he conveyed that he'd seen a good movie. No forceful "You MUST See This Movie" urging. No tieing me down to a chair and propping my eyes open, Clockwork Orange-style, no promises of heavenly visions, nor were there any inclinations of this being the cinematic equivalent of an orgasim. Just simple conversation.

    No biggie. I'd never heard of the film but, in all fairness, he enjoys watch a lot of kung-fu and monster movies that I've never heard of, so I chalked it up to something I'd never watch. (Please don't take this as a judgement against Stuart's viewing habits. He finds some real gems.) He mentions Boondock Saints. In one ear and out the other.

    Time passes. It comes up in conversation every couple of months. More time passes.

    A few weeks ago I find myself browsing the aisles of the local video store when I come across TBS. I consider. I ponder. I mull. "Oh yes. Isn't this that flick that Stuart mentioned so many moons ago?" "Hrm," I think. "Sean Patrick Flannery. Willem Dafoe. Not bad, not bad. It's about, what does it say here?—Irish badasses. Hey, I'm a Murphy—I'm down with the badassness of the Irishmen. And there's nothing else going on tonight. Why the hell not?"

    (Fair spoiler warning: This movie is much better if you don't read reviews on it. In fact, don't even read the box or the plot synopsis. Just watch it blind. You'll thank me.)

    Sweet merciful crap! Why did I wait so long to watch this movie? It's fantastic!

    The Boondock Saints tells the story of two Irish brothers, Murphy and Connor McManus, who take it upon themselves to play judge and jury in their divine mission in life—ridding the world of evil men. And boy-o are they good at it. The brothers are irreverent and funny and hardcore and sometimes blasphemous. But they are also devout, serious, and full of conviction in this quest. Their quick and witty banter conjures images of a Quentin Tarantino film on speed.

    My favorite scene has to be when Connor and Murphy are gearing up for a big hit. They're arguing about getting some rope. Connor says, "Charlie Bronson's always got a rope. In the movies, they've always got rope and they always end up using it." They settle the argument for the moment but they get back into it later in an air duct. Falling through the ceiling of a room filled with people they're supposed to kill, Murphy and Connor become what my good friend Stuart calls the "chandelier of death"—as they get caught up in their coils of rope, they spin around upside down, shooting and killing everyone in the room. It may not translate well in text as I've typed it out here, but sweetbabyjesus the scene rocks!

    (Side note: If my newborn child had been a boy, he would've been named Connor Murphy. Not in any relation to the film, just a strange coincidence. Carry on.)

    Shortly into the film you'll come upon a scene where FBI Agent Paul Smecker (Dafoe) is trying to reinact the crime scene of two men murdered in an alley. After mocking the local Boston detectives ("Brilliant! So now we got a Huge Guy theory and a Serial Crusher theory.") he starts examining the bodies and scene proper. My wife, who is fairly well versed in forensics, mentions that no real agent collects his/her own evidence. There are crime-scene techs who's sole job it is to comb for evidence. Dafoe's eccentric Smecker listens to opera while perambulating around the alley. Kerri rolls her eyes, says, "Freak" and we both laugh—partly at Kerri's intolerance, partly at the film. Little did we know exactly how freaky Smecker would become. Watch and enjoy. Dafoe gets creepier and more interesting by the minute. He rocks. But be careful near the end—you'll want to claw your own eyeballs out. Like Forrest Gump, that's all I have to say about that.

    It amazes me that films with infinitely less substance get hyped as "great," when they're really just rehashed dogshit which wasn't incredibly good the first time around, and then there are films like TBS which go virtually unnoticed by any major media outlets. Films like The Boondock Saints' only real chance is to find a vigorous second life on video and DVD. Boondock Saints is much like Resevoir Dogs and Donnie Darko, in that their popularity spreads by word of mouth. Friends tell friends who tell friends. And then you wonder how such a great flick flew in under your radar.

    And here is where you might catch Murphy (me, not Murphy McManus) being a bit of a hypocrite. If you've read some of my other reviews you'll find that I rail against the entertainment industry's advertising practices (i.e., advertising a movie in such a way that is deceptive) and yet I bitch about the fact that I never saw adverts for TBS. Well, the truth of the matter is: I'm always right, no matter what side of the case I'm arguing. No, no. Don't laugh. It's true. Yes, studio-made films should have accurate, less overhyped promotions. And yes, someone should've noticed how wonderful The Boondock Saints was and put out some commercials for it. It's a damn shame that more people haven't seen this one, they're missing out.

    Another point I'd like to point out: written and directed by Troy Duffy. Another example of One Man's Vision being so much better than Art By Committee.

    If you check out The Boondock Saints' official website (or look it up on IMDB), you'll notice that later this year we should be seeing a sequel called All Saints Day. I'm going out right now to purchase a ticket. If it's anything like the first, then I'll watch it twice.

    And if I haven't sold The Boondock Saints to you yet, here's a final note: In just writing this review I now remember how much I loved this film—so much so that I'm going to go out tonight and buy it. I really want to see it again.