Yeah, that' right, you heard us: Mystic River. Oh, but how could that be? It' won awards and stuff! Of course it' won awards. When' the last time they gave Oscars to a movie that wasn't understood by everyone?
Don't get us wrong. It' not that it' a terrible movie. Actually, it' pretty good story that follows the lives of three boyhood friends and examines the ramifications of child molestation. In the opening scene, a pedophile posing as a police officer tricks one of the friends, Dave, into his car. After being abused, Dave escapes, but the damage is done. Dave never recovers emotionally, Jimmy becomes a mobster and Sean becomes a cop with attachment issues. Do you know how we know? Because we watched the movie. But luckily, Director Clint Eastwood wanted people to understand the whole flick even if they walked in during the last three minutes. Perhaps Oliver Stone was in the audience. Take it away, Sean:
Y'know, sometimes I think all three of us got in that car. And all this is just a dream, y'know?
In reality, we're still 11-year-old boys locked in a cellar imagining what our lives would be if we'd escaped.
Maybe you're right. Who the fuck knows?
Who knows? Everyone. Everyone gets it. Mission accomplished. Hello, Oscar!
This one needs a little proviso because all of this movie' terrible dialogue is confined to the narration, and director Ridley Scott removed all that narration from his director' cut. Still, it' so bad you can still hear it taunting you-refusing to let Blade Runner be the otherwise great flick it is. Nevertheless, this entry goes to the top of the list because it' more than pedantic and wooden and silly; it' just wrong. This might be the only time in movie history when the narration made the movie less clear. When whoever wrote the dialogue just didn't appear to be paying attention to the rest of the movie.
If you recall, Blade Runner is about superhuman robots, or replicants, who are angry about their finite life expectancies. Harrison Ford (Deckard) has been tasked with bringing the rogue replicants to justice. In the movie' climax, Deckard is involved in a fight to the death with replicant Rutger Hauer (Roy). Quite unexpectedly, Roy saves Deckard' life in a transcendently memorable scene:
Really quite something. One of our favorite scenes of all time, really. Then comes the narration (in some versions of the film. In others it's mercifully absent):
I don't know why he saved my life. Maybe in those last moments he loved life more than he ever had before. Not just his life, anybody's life, my life. All he'd wanted were the same answers the rest of us want. Where did I come from? Where am I going? How long have I got? All I could do was sit there and watch him die.
Uh, excuse me, Deckard? Wrong! Roy didn't suddenly become a good guy and realize that all life is precious. Were you even listening? Are you telling us Roy spilled his dying words to the wrong jackass? Listen up. Roy saved your life so you could remember him. He feared what everyone fears about mortality: being forgotten. He saved your life so he could share a bit of his favorite memories before dying. So he could live on in a way. And he told you this. And guess what? You totally fucked it up. Totally.
Man, he should have killed you.