via Atlas Film
By Daniel Greenwood
This review contains nostalgia.
Being fifteen was tough. I had no luck with girls, no money, lots of time and a constant fear of having my Nokia 3210 stolen by people bigger than me. Wait, things haven’t cha–look, if there was one little joy in my life it was Seann William Scott. I saw American Pie (Paul Weitz, 1999) on the last day of school before our Easter holiday. I’d tried to catch it, or sneak it, in the local cinema but couldn’t get in. It was a 15, dude. But American Pie wasn’t really about Seann William Scott, it was more to do with that pie mutilated by Jim (Jason Biggs), while his mum and dad were out. Indeed, that movie was more about a lonely young dude (played by a twenty-something Briggs), and not about Steve Stiffler, the Stiffmeister (William Scott) getting all the chicks.
Though that’s not really why I looked up to Stiffler, it was his confidence that made him a sort of demi-God, his arrogance. How could teenagers be so confident? It was unthinkable. I recall riding home on the bus having just seen American Pie 2 (James B. Rogers, 2001) and devising a plan with friends, trying to think of a way to throw a Stiffler-esque party on a beach somewhere. We never had a party as glamorous as American Pie 2’s sandy soiree, but we entertained the idea for long enough for it to be satisfying. Watching Role Models the other week, it dawned on me what an idol that man was to us fifteen-year-olds who were there at the right time, pubescence, to appreciate the greatness of this actor.
Sitting down to watch Mr. Woodcock, it didn’t matter who was in this film or what it was about, it had the Stiffmeister. Who knew how many people he’d tell to ‘fuck off’, or how embarrassed he’d be by having some kid urinate on him and mistake it for champagne. Stiffler always comes out on top, he was a soldier. But I’ve grown up (a bit) now, and Seann William Scott is (a bit of) a changed man. He isn’t alongside characters like Shit-break anymore, instead he’s kickin’ it with Susan Sarandon as his mother, Beverly, and the stoney-faced Billy-Bob Thornton as Jasper Woodcock. The film begins in a gymnasium, and it’s already clear that Mr. Woodcock is a dick. He gives a line of pre-pubescent pupils a lecture on the greatness of the basketball, before hurling it at them.
It turns out that John Farley (Seann William Scott) was one of those kids, but now he’s grown up and has published a self-help book entitled ‘Let Go’. John’s a bestselling author, and in receipt of a homegrown award, he returns to stay with his mother Beverly. Mr. Farley died some years ago, and Beverly seems to have found a patriarch to fill the fatherly role - Jasper frickin’ Woodcock. John is still a nobody to Woodcock, and though the teacher doesn’t remember the pupil, John is painfully aware of the beast that Woodcock is. In fact, much of this film is ugly jokes about Woodcock sleeping with John’s widowed mother. But, give the man credit, there are no misplaced ‘boobies’ ala Role Models, or the rest of William Scott’s generally flatulent body of work.
John and Woodcock reignite their feud, John’s self-help ego dissolves amidst his rage. ‘Don’t meddle in other people’s lives’, he says to himself, like a mantra, before meddling in his mother’s love life. It’s a pretty cute take on the concept - everyone’s fallible to the kind of behaviour on show here - jealousy, lying, breaking and entering. But that’s about it in the way of cuteness, bar a few laughs, Mr. Woodcock turns on its own hinge and musters a change of heart, tying things up around the 90-minute mark. It’s strange to see that Seann William Scott is growing up, and though he’s in a film with a sexually-connotive title, he’s toned things down somewhat, and I suppose it’s about time I did the same.
No comments:
Post a Comment