It seems like the only contrivance anyone hears about this movie, its either from fanatic word of mouth or from seeing it sitting in Blockbusters. Thats a shame, because this first outing by director Troy Duffy is an extremely frosty film that deserves all the attention it can earn.
Sean Patrick Flannery and Norman Reedus play two fine ole Irish Catholic boys in Boston, who one day find sick of the corruption in the city and inaugurate a bloody crusade to wipe it out. Willem DaFoe plays the FBI agent hot on their rush, who is torn between bringing the mysterious vigilantes to justice, or joining their crusade.
The film is, simply effect, cold. Its one of the only movies that actually beget going to church seek frosty. Don’t be fooled by the description, however; this is not an action movie. Do not quiz blazing gun battles with crazy angles and MTV like editing. This is a film about morality, doing what one thinks is true, and having codes of honour. It’s about all those things, and how cessation they may sometimes gather to walking the edge between genuine and unfavorable.
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The two actors who play the Irish vigilantes are spacious in their roles, playing the boys not as superheroes, but as regular joes with a titanic chip on their shoulder. A nice twist in the film is DaFoe’s portrayel of the FBI agent, who also happens to be jubilant. He plays him as a titanic character without being tempted to dip into stereotypes. Huge job by the versatile actor.
This is definately a movie not to be missed. If you are fortunate to stare this in your video store, pick it out and like.
It only takes a few minutes to diagram a comparison between Troy Duffy’s “The Boondock Saints” and almost any Quentin Tarentino film. As I watched this breathtaking movie, I snickered to myself over realizing this runt fact. I figured few others would beget the connection. Boy, was I sinful! It seems that anyone who has seen “Boondock Saints” immediately thinks of “Pulp Fiction” or “Reservoir Dogs.” Moreover, a lot of people do not like the conception of Duffy ripping off such a obedient American icon. Perhaps they have forgotten that Tarentino has based his entire career on borrowing or outright ripping off ideas from 1960s and 1970s cinema. I could care less whether Duffy imitated “Pulp Fiction” or whether he arrived at this understanding on his maintain. Hollywood routinely begs, borrows, and steals in an danger to earn a buck. The new trend of remaking older films is only one aspect of this philosophy, so complaining about some filmmaker copying a specific style is a moot point. “The Boondock Saints” is an enormously sharp method to employ a couple of hours and, despite a few flaws, may accomplish a cult situation rivaling anything made by Quentin Tarentino. This is how it should be.
Connor and Murphy MacManus (Sean Patrick Flanery and Norman Reedus respectively) are two Irish brothers who employ their days drinking at the local pub and working in a local meatpacking plant. They don’t do great with their free time outside of lounging around their filthy loft and hanging around with unbalanced people like their friend David Rocco, a minor criminal who longs to join the local branch of the mafia. Grief rears its monstrous head when some Russian gangsters recede into the neighborhood and threaten to end down the neighborhood bar. After a fistfight leads to a couple of killings in an alley, the boys realize they may be in a residence of wretchedness with local law enforcement. Actually, they are in more pains than they realize at first when an FBI agent by the name of Paul Smecker arrives on the scene. The inept local cops stand around throwing out all sorts of strange, implausible theories about these corpses in the alleyway, but Smecker moves in and figures it all out in an enormously hilarious and ingenious plot. By slapping on some headphones pumping out classical music and prancing around the scene checking things out, Smecker tells the cops what happened, when it happened, and who probably did it. Positive enough, the MacManus boys sheepishly advance at the local cop shop, bloodied and bandaged from their tussle with the Russkies, and confess to the crime.
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Fortunately for Connor and Murphy, Agent Smecker takes a right shine to these gregarious youngsters and releases them from jail. After all, the whole incident was merely a case of self-defense gone horribly bloody. But something unusual happens to the MacManus brothers after this incident; they suddenly deem they receive a calling from God to rid the streets of criminals. Checking in at the local armory of the Irish Republican Army (this is Boston, after all) and arming themselves to the teeth, Connor and Murphy spend information gleaned from their encounter with the low-level mafia goons to stage a mission against the bosses of the Russian Mob. Other jobs soon follow, all apparently sanctioned and sanctified by the Almighty. The boys are so successful they soon design in the assistance of David Rocco, who, with his ample knowledge of Boston’s underworld, provides a list of criminals who deserve to die. As the body count rises, Smecker comes closer to learning the identities of these homegrown vigilantes. The fact that the FBI agent undergoes a crisis of conscience over the crimes–he speedy realizes these murders are the work of citizens fed up with crime–leads him to secretly relieve the men responsible for the killings. Throw in a bunch of Mafia thugs, adult film star Ron Jeremy as a doomed hoodlum, a vicious, mystical killer named “Il Duce” (played by Billy Connolly, collected atoning for “Head of the Class”), stylish gunplay, and an exploding cat and you have all the makings of this top-notch movie.
“The Boondock Saints” is a film about vigilantism and whether that activity is ever justifiable, although that theme seems to go for most of the movie. The conclusion, too, ends up being objective a itsy-bitsy too implausible, but getting there is a boatload of fun. The best things about Duffy’s film are the whipsaw hasty dialogue, the hilarious running gags, and Willem Dafoe as Agent Paul Smecker. Dafoe especially deserves accolades for his portrayal of a conflicted FBI agent whose sympathies eventually turn to the MacManus brothers. His method of solving crimes, especially the shootout between Il Duce and the two vigilantes, is not only brilliantly executed but a wonder to glimpse. Moreover, Smecker’s interactions with the local Irish cops provide endless opportunities for expansive dialogue and hilarious jokes.
Regrettably, a bit of overacting at distinct points of the film swiftly annoys, as does the failure to provide anything more than lip service to vigilantism and how it pertains to our ultra violent world, but “The Boondock Saints” is so powerful fun despite these flaws that you will hardly inspect them. The DVD includes many extras, such as indispensable deleted scenes, a commentary by Troy Duffy, and a widescreen presentation. There’s even talk of an impending sequel, although the absence of the Willem Dafoe character, if the reports are good, could cause considerable problems. There is not any other design to say it: if you have not seen “The Boondock Saints,” speed, do not shuffle, to the local video store and retract or rent a copy today.
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