The Boondock Saints (Cult Classic review)

A good definition of a "Cult Classic" is nearly impossible to find. Not everyone agrees on what makes a cult classic. A cult classic can be a great film that was lost on the mainstream or it can be a terrible film that has some redeeming or fun qualities. The one thing that makes a cult classic though is that it is loved by a relatively small, yet rabid, group of people. Movies like The Rocky Horror Picture Show or True Romance epitomize the idea of a cult classic. The 1990's brought us two directors who have essentially made a living on cult classics- Kevin Smith and Quentin Tarantino. Where we see Smith's influence in the movies of Judd Apatow, Tarantino influenced an entire generation of filmmakers. Pulp Fiction is arguably the most influential movie to be released since the mid-nineties (You could argue for The Matrix) and every year there are movies that borrow from elements of Pulp Fiction. In 1999 a movie was released by a writer/director named Troy Duffy and that movie was The Boondock Saints. One of the Weinsteins called Duffy "The next Quentin Tarantino" and an ego was born. The ego blackballed Duffy in Hollywood and we are left with only this movie. The Boondock Saints lives on as a cult classic, probably somewhat due to the director sabotaging his own career, but does it really deserve the title? Did he deserve the title?

Set in Boston, The Boondock Saints follows to brothers, Connor (Sean Patrick Flannery) and Murphy (Norman Reedus) who unexpectedly gain fame when they kill two men in self defense. The two dead men were Russian mobsters and drug dealers who had taken over the Boston streets, much to the chagrin of the citizens of that area. After turning themselves in to the police and an F.B.I agent by the name of Paul Smecker(Willem Dafoe), the brothers are released but praised as saints in the community. With the guns and money from the two dead guys, the brothers bank roll it for more guns, ropes, and assorted weapons and decide it is their calling from God to murder bad guys. F.B.I genius Smecker stays in Boston to solve the cases of all these bad guys being murdered. Of course, it never occurs to him that these brothers can do it because after all, the two brothers don't appear to know how to be skilled assassins. Oh snap, except they somehow are very effective at killing and not getting killed!! Never fear though, I mean they are killing bad guys, so when the F.B.I guy finds out it is them, he thinks they are doing good and decides to help them and his best way to accomplish that is to dress up like a female hooker!! Ending with one of the more ridiculous climaxes I have seen in a movie, The Boondock Saints somehow goes down in cinematic history.

If you refer back to the beginning of this review where I called Pulp Fiction the most influential movie to be released since the nineties, allow me to explain why that is. Movies like The Boondock Saints would not exist if Tarantino had no paved the way. Duffy is so blatantly ripping off Tarantino, Tarantino deserved a writing and directing credit for this movie. We see the crimes in a series of broken down flashbacks in a lame attempt to bend time the way Pulp Fiction did so well. The script is a very low grade, rip off of screenplays like Reservoir Dogs, Pulp Fiction and The Usual Suspects. However, Duffy does show some promise in regards to his directorial eye and his way with the camera, especially in the scene that takes place in 3 catholic confessional booths. I enjoyed those overhead shots a lot, but for the most part it really does play like a direct-to-video take on those great crime dramas my generation loves so very much. And maybe that is the problem: Duffy was trying so hard to make a cool movie that it looks like a movie that is trying too hard to be cool. People light up cigarettes at the same time, the slow motion gun battles come off looking cheesy, the dialog trite and even the music is nauseatingly corny. Cool movies just exist; they are supposed to happen by accident almost. The minute you set out to make a cool movie, you have already lost the battle.

The two leads speak in broken now-you-hear-them-now-you-don't Irish accents, but nowhere in the movie did I catch that they were actually from Ireland, just the Irish heavy Boston and last I check not all Irish Catholics from Boston speak in Irish accents. That is just one of the many lame things featured inside Saints. Defoe's gay F.B.I agent often takes to the streets to conduct a full on orchestra as he sweeps crime scenes or relives one of the crimes committed by the boys. I am not sure if this was an attempt at humor or an attempt to be hip and edgy, but either way it falls flat as I was starting to reach for the remote to speed through all of that garbage. Maybe this movie falls into the category of so-bad-its-good, but the rabid cult like fans don't seem to think so. These people really believe it is a great original cinematic work, but when Stephen Dorff even passed on starring in your movie, how good can it really be?