Is being a self-sufficient asshole reasonenough to be executed? A pressing question.
Produced by bona fide comedy godfather John Landis and directed by Jack Perez (of Mega Shark vs Giant Octopus "fame"), this surprisingly potent, blacker-than-black comedy achieves a nice blend of sweet and sour moments by relying on a crafty screenplay by Ryan Levin interpreted to perfection by veteran and newcomers alike. The balance of humor and drama is hard to achieve in any black comedy, but the cast manages to pull through with great success here as each individual member keeps a consistent tone throughout the story and remains unfazed by the the film's sharp dramatic fluctuations. Unfortunately, the lackluster twist ending feels ridiculously contrived as it is engineered to jam the viewers' radar at all costs. Still, Some Guy Who Kills People is a commendable achievement in postmodern genre-mixing, allowing for the clever deconstruction of the "loveable loser" archetype, a timely figure that barely hides a disconcerting truth about modern men.
The narrative focuses on the ordeals experienced by Ken, a troubled loner with a history of mental illness, the genesis of which is depicted through a series of recurring flashbacks that the viewer slowly pieces together to from a coherent traumatic experience. Ken allots his time between his day job at a local ice cream parlor and the therapeutic cartoons he draws at home, while under the auspicious eyes of his exasperated mother. Aside from the bitter old woman and his friend/co-worker Irv, Ken is all alone... until his estranged daughter resurfaces and tries to make up for lost time. Unfortunately, the man is not a suitable father for the witty young girl. Underneath the "normal" surface provided by his white and yellow uniform, there lies a shadow of a man, made hollow by the events depicted in the aforementioned flashbacks. So, when the dark and mysterious figures who previously tormented him start dying in ritualistic fashion, all signs point to him. And with the town's sheriff (and his mother's lover) hot on the murderer's trail, the clamp is fast tightening down on Ken... who stands to lose much more than his personal freedom now that he is responsible for the happiness of a promising daughter. And so, a police intrigue develops alongside the main storyline concerning the protagonist's ups and downs, bringing an extra dimension to the narrative, one that provides almost all of the genuine laughs contained in the film.
Actually, the two parallel storylines are but opposite faces of the same coin, situating reality in and outside the comic book universe imagined by Ken to better cope with life. While his hardships as an ice cream vendor, juggling between a domineering mother and a demanding daughter, are deeply rooted in reality, the colorful murder set-pieces and half-assed police investigation possess all the characteristics of fluff fantasy, as depicted in the film's poster. The dualistic nature of the narrative is explained in surprisingly straightforward terms once the sheriff uncovers the true nature of Ken's drawings, therapeutic ventures just beyond the dark veil of reality.
You'll be surprised at just how clever cops are when it
comes to puns. I'm sure you could think of a few just
by looking at this still.
First-time feature screenwriter Levin deserves some koodos for managing to seamlessly, and meaningfully incorporate a comedic police investigation to Ken's heavy family drama. By setting up the town sheriff (Barry Bostwick) as the kinky lover of the protagonist's mother, he bridges the two parallel storylines at a crucial emotional junction. This allows the sheriff's frequent taunts (pertaining to how he's "gonna get freaky with" or give oil massages to Ken's mother) to work as comedic devices while they subsequently help mine Ken's morale. It also allows the two storylines to interpenetrate in meaningful ways, giving the sheriff a chance to seamlessly close in on his "stepson" as well as creating tension between the two elderly lovers. Unfortunately, Levin lacks finesse when it comes to wrapping up the story, and when chronicling the emotional maturation of the protagonist, using surprising shortcuts (such as Lucy Davis' sudden infatuation with spineless, dead-eyed Ken) and incongruous twists to cement the mix, using the estranged daughter as little more than your standard catalyst for the protagonist's slow, steady, and ultimately predictable maturation toward adulthood.
Luckily, there is an army of talented actors hard at work to manipulate us in all the right directions, and shape coherently contradictory characters in the process. If Kevin Corrigan delivers a touching performance as the impotent protagonist, he is outplayed by veterans Karen Black (playing his cynical mother) and Barry Bostwick (playing the goofy sheriff). Black is razor-sharp when it comes to unbalancing her son, dishing out some surprisingly nasty jabs whenever she can, which helps keep him in a perpetual state of self-centered helplessness. Nonetheless, she manages to come out as a sympathetic character whose plight (her raising a reclusive tadpole) is perfectly intelligible. And while one is likely to frown upon her cruelest taunts (such as those concerning Ken's self-inflicted scars or social inadequacy), it is not so hard to understand where she is coming from and what she intends to do with these taunts, namely to shake Ken out of his stupor. As for Bostwick, he scene-steals his way through the film, providing laughs in vast amounts as he plays the dumb cop in one scene, only to amaze us with his cleverness in the next. The quantity of puns he manages to deliver with success is actually amazing. I'd never have thunk it, but there is still some energy in the old coot. Hell, he was just cast as FDR in a nearly completed new film entitled FDR: American Badass!!
That said, not all praise should go to Black and Bostwick. For me, the real revelation here was the incredibly charismatic Ariel Gade, who plays the role of Ken's daughter with contagious energy, illuminating the somber narrative with her smile, which also symbolizes the promise of something better on the horizon. Giving life to a somewhat overdetermined character, Gade's implication is crucial to the success of the film, providing just the right amount of naivety and quirkiness to the plot to counter-balance the darker aspects of the human psyche at work in the other characters' minds. She represents beauty untainted by the ugliness of life, and truly a gal to fight for, opposite bland, obligatory love interest Stephanie (Lucy Davis, who isn't asked to do much here but pose next to Kevin Corrigan).
When does one's misfortune start becoming funny?
The narrative focuses on the ordeals experienced by Ken, a troubled loner with a history of mental illness, the genesis of which is depicted through a series of recurring flashbacks that the viewer slowly pieces together to from a coherent traumatic experience. Ken allots his time between his day job at a local ice cream parlor and the therapeutic cartoons he draws at home, while under the auspicious eyes of his exasperated mother. Aside from the bitter old woman and his friend/co-worker Irv, Ken is all alone... until his estranged daughter resurfaces and tries to make up for lost time. Unfortunately, the man is not a suitable father for the witty young girl. Underneath the "normal" surface provided by his white and yellow uniform, there lies a shadow of a man, made hollow by the events depicted in the aforementioned flashbacks. So, when the dark and mysterious figures who previously tormented him start dying in ritualistic fashion, all signs point to him. And with the town's sheriff (and his mother's lover) hot on the murderer's trail, the clamp is fast tightening down on Ken... who stands to lose much more than his personal freedom now that he is responsible for the happiness of a promising daughter. And so, a police intrigue develops alongside the main storyline concerning the protagonist's ups and downs, bringing an extra dimension to the narrative, one that provides almost all of the genuine laughs contained in the film.
Actually, the two parallel storylines are but opposite faces of the same coin, situating reality in and outside the comic book universe imagined by Ken to better cope with life. While his hardships as an ice cream vendor, juggling between a domineering mother and a demanding daughter, are deeply rooted in reality, the colorful murder set-pieces and half-assed police investigation possess all the characteristics of fluff fantasy, as depicted in the film's poster. The dualistic nature of the narrative is explained in surprisingly straightforward terms once the sheriff uncovers the true nature of Ken's drawings, therapeutic ventures just beyond the dark veil of reality.
You'll be surprised at just how clever cops are when itcomes to puns. I'm sure you could think of a few just
by looking at this still.
First-time feature screenwriter Levin deserves some koodos for managing to seamlessly, and meaningfully incorporate a comedic police investigation to Ken's heavy family drama. By setting up the town sheriff (Barry Bostwick) as the kinky lover of the protagonist's mother, he bridges the two parallel storylines at a crucial emotional junction. This allows the sheriff's frequent taunts (pertaining to how he's "gonna get freaky with" or give oil massages to Ken's mother) to work as comedic devices while they subsequently help mine Ken's morale. It also allows the two storylines to interpenetrate in meaningful ways, giving the sheriff a chance to seamlessly close in on his "stepson" as well as creating tension between the two elderly lovers. Unfortunately, Levin lacks finesse when it comes to wrapping up the story, and when chronicling the emotional maturation of the protagonist, using surprising shortcuts (such as Lucy Davis' sudden infatuation with spineless, dead-eyed Ken) and incongruous twists to cement the mix, using the estranged daughter as little more than your standard catalyst for the protagonist's slow, steady, and ultimately predictable maturation toward adulthood.
Luckily, there is an army of talented actors hard at work to manipulate us in all the right directions, and shape coherently contradictory characters in the process. If Kevin Corrigan delivers a touching performance as the impotent protagonist, he is outplayed by veterans Karen Black (playing his cynical mother) and Barry Bostwick (playing the goofy sheriff). Black is razor-sharp when it comes to unbalancing her son, dishing out some surprisingly nasty jabs whenever she can, which helps keep him in a perpetual state of self-centered helplessness. Nonetheless, she manages to come out as a sympathetic character whose plight (her raising a reclusive tadpole) is perfectly intelligible. And while one is likely to frown upon her cruelest taunts (such as those concerning Ken's self-inflicted scars or social inadequacy), it is not so hard to understand where she is coming from and what she intends to do with these taunts, namely to shake Ken out of his stupor. As for Bostwick, he scene-steals his way through the film, providing laughs in vast amounts as he plays the dumb cop in one scene, only to amaze us with his cleverness in the next. The quantity of puns he manages to deliver with success is actually amazing. I'd never have thunk it, but there is still some energy in the old coot. Hell, he was just cast as FDR in a nearly completed new film entitled FDR: American Badass!!
That said, not all praise should go to Black and Bostwick. For me, the real revelation here was the incredibly charismatic Ariel Gade, who plays the role of Ken's daughter with contagious energy, illuminating the somber narrative with her smile, which also symbolizes the promise of something better on the horizon. Giving life to a somewhat overdetermined character, Gade's implication is crucial to the success of the film, providing just the right amount of naivety and quirkiness to the plot to counter-balance the darker aspects of the human psyche at work in the other characters' minds. She represents beauty untainted by the ugliness of life, and truly a gal to fight for, opposite bland, obligatory love interest Stephanie (Lucy Davis, who isn't asked to do much here but pose next to Kevin Corrigan).
When does one's misfortune start becoming funny?There is an undercurrent of tragedy to the story and it perfectly undermines the moments of comedy. Seeing how Ken is depicted as an irremediably broken man with no resolve left, a man in need of a major epiphany to help him rise up from the depths of mediocrity, the film violently departs from the recent, but well established tradition of "the loveable loser", made famous by the Jason Biggs/Judd Apatow comedies. Ken needs not simply reveal his true self to a beautiful, understanding girl in order to grow outside of his shell. He needs to overcome mental illness and the bane of uncertainty on a regular basis, being constantly reminded of past traumas by the scars on his wrist. And these traumas go far deeper than the casual humiliation and mild awkwardness suffered by the beautiful, "troubled" teens from Hollywood. They are not the wounds of a youth in need of legitimacy, they're the wounds of an adult who has failed to fulfill that quest for legitimacy. This makes Ken a deconstructed loser type, an embodiment of the actual toll that it takes on a person to be perceived as the loveable loser. His antics are rarely amusing, they're pathetic. And so, the audience's chuckles are always laced, forcing us to reflect on exactly how funny a poor man's misfortune truly is, adding a layer of self-reflexivity to the film in the process.
Hence, the comic book look of the film, which the poster brandishes a little too brazenly, is used only to delineate the inner workings of Ken's mind, leaving his body hopelessly trapped in the tangible, everyday world where costumes are donned for humiliation, and where vengeance is a sad, lonely act akin to masturbation. The frequent recourse to hand-drawn illustrations, including a wide array of highly expressionistic depictions of felled bad guys which are fast used as evidence against their author, are meant to highlight this discrepancy. The distorted features of the victim's faces appear in sharp contrast with Ken's stoic looks, contributing a great deal to the idea of a vagabond mind escaping from the prison of the flesh. What draws Ken back to the world of the living is a feisty young girl, and conveniently, a girl who is at that very point in life where he himself broke down and gave way for depression to get a hold of him. While young Amy hardly seems to share Ken's blood at first, cracks eventually start to form in her surprisingly self-assured facade, proving that she also is a challenged person in need of help to achieve emancipation. Seeing how both hers and Ken's trauma is related to high school basketball, both of them are able to learn from the other and grow past what is basically a traumatic life experience. And with their collaboration, the two of them will manage to patch up both their respective families, which were almost completely devastated following's Ken's mental breakdown. And this too contributes to the realism of the ensemble, depicting the full extent to which one's man failures can affect the ones around him, and particularly those who love him.
Karen Black plays a very complex character, who cruelly taunts her
son in order to better salvage him from apathy
The film also begs pressing questions relative to female supremacy. Thus, one will realize that all men within the narrative are weak-willed followers, finding personal meaning only through their agency with females, whom are depicted as "calling all shots". If Karen Black's character is instrumental in Ken's victimization, so is his daughter instrumental in his eventual recovery. It is her who encourages him to date, helping him shed his shell. It is her from which his life derives meaning. She is cheerful and self-assured, despite adversity. As for Ken, he cracks under pressure like a twig, making male inadequacy a salient feature of Perez' film. With the somber tone used to depict the protagonist, one is prompted to appraise the rising number of impotent males in leading film roles as a sign of the ages, rather than as a comedic novelty. If Seth Rogen is amusing as the dice-rolling slacker from Knocked Up (opposite despicable bitch queen Katherine Heigl), Kevin Corrigan isn't as Ken. He is the reminder of male uncertainty and ultimately, of the shrinking importance of the male hero. Far from being the typical slacker hero, he is proof that there is no such thing as a slacker "hero", only a slacker to be rehabilitated and made a man once more.
All in all, the film succeeds in its desire to craft an engrossing black comedy by cleverly blending elements from the loveable loser narrative with elements from the exploitation-era revenge plot by way of comic book antics. Such clever alchemy is achieved despite the screenwriter's blunt use of dated motifs to forward the main storyline. Because despite a clear lack of experience, Levin manages to probe unseen depths within many colliding genres, allowing the film to transcend the oft-rigid codes of comedy in order to better craft a realistic protagonist and to subsequently deconstruct the loveable loser archetype, away from bubblegum Hollywood narratives and into the territory of self-reflexivity.
3/5 A surprisingly potent black comedy that establishes screenwriter Levin as a force to be reckoned with. The superb cast further helps him compensate for the lackluster twist ending and predictable motifs used in delineating the protagonist's evolution.
P.S. Fans of British comedy will certainly recognize Ken's love interest, Lucy Davis, as The Office's Dawn Tinsley and Shaun of the Dead's Dianne, proving my contention that she is just mildly attractive enough to play girlfriend to a bunch of desperate saddos, the leader of which is The Office's loser hero, Tim Canterbury.
Hence, the comic book look of the film, which the poster brandishes a little too brazenly, is used only to delineate the inner workings of Ken's mind, leaving his body hopelessly trapped in the tangible, everyday world where costumes are donned for humiliation, and where vengeance is a sad, lonely act akin to masturbation. The frequent recourse to hand-drawn illustrations, including a wide array of highly expressionistic depictions of felled bad guys which are fast used as evidence against their author, are meant to highlight this discrepancy. The distorted features of the victim's faces appear in sharp contrast with Ken's stoic looks, contributing a great deal to the idea of a vagabond mind escaping from the prison of the flesh. What draws Ken back to the world of the living is a feisty young girl, and conveniently, a girl who is at that very point in life where he himself broke down and gave way for depression to get a hold of him. While young Amy hardly seems to share Ken's blood at first, cracks eventually start to form in her surprisingly self-assured facade, proving that she also is a challenged person in need of help to achieve emancipation. Seeing how both hers and Ken's trauma is related to high school basketball, both of them are able to learn from the other and grow past what is basically a traumatic life experience. And with their collaboration, the two of them will manage to patch up both their respective families, which were almost completely devastated following's Ken's mental breakdown. And this too contributes to the realism of the ensemble, depicting the full extent to which one's man failures can affect the ones around him, and particularly those who love him.
Karen Black plays a very complex character, who cruelly taunts herson in order to better salvage him from apathy
The film also begs pressing questions relative to female supremacy. Thus, one will realize that all men within the narrative are weak-willed followers, finding personal meaning only through their agency with females, whom are depicted as "calling all shots". If Karen Black's character is instrumental in Ken's victimization, so is his daughter instrumental in his eventual recovery. It is her who encourages him to date, helping him shed his shell. It is her from which his life derives meaning. She is cheerful and self-assured, despite adversity. As for Ken, he cracks under pressure like a twig, making male inadequacy a salient feature of Perez' film. With the somber tone used to depict the protagonist, one is prompted to appraise the rising number of impotent males in leading film roles as a sign of the ages, rather than as a comedic novelty. If Seth Rogen is amusing as the dice-rolling slacker from Knocked Up (opposite despicable bitch queen Katherine Heigl), Kevin Corrigan isn't as Ken. He is the reminder of male uncertainty and ultimately, of the shrinking importance of the male hero. Far from being the typical slacker hero, he is proof that there is no such thing as a slacker "hero", only a slacker to be rehabilitated and made a man once more.
All in all, the film succeeds in its desire to craft an engrossing black comedy by cleverly blending elements from the loveable loser narrative with elements from the exploitation-era revenge plot by way of comic book antics. Such clever alchemy is achieved despite the screenwriter's blunt use of dated motifs to forward the main storyline. Because despite a clear lack of experience, Levin manages to probe unseen depths within many colliding genres, allowing the film to transcend the oft-rigid codes of comedy in order to better craft a realistic protagonist and to subsequently deconstruct the loveable loser archetype, away from bubblegum Hollywood narratives and into the territory of self-reflexivity.
3/5 A surprisingly potent black comedy that establishes screenwriter Levin as a force to be reckoned with. The superb cast further helps him compensate for the lackluster twist ending and predictable motifs used in delineating the protagonist's evolution.
P.S. Fans of British comedy will certainly recognize Ken's love interest, Lucy Davis, as The Office's Dawn Tinsley and Shaun of the Dead's Dianne, proving my contention that she is just mildly attractive enough to play girlfriend to a bunch of desperate saddos, the leader of which is The Office's loser hero, Tim Canterbury.
