I would love to see you guys review the movie Nobel Son. No, that is not a typo. Nobel, as is Nobel Prize, which figures in as one of the seemingly endless convoluted plot points in this mess of a flick.
What does this movie have? Alan Rickman, humping co-eds. Mary Steenburgen, pointing guns at reporters. Eliza Dushku, running around with clown masks drawn on paper bags. A plot so convoluted that breasts made of marzipan are part of the narrative. So is a remote-controlled Mini Cooper running amok in a mall. And enough double- and triple-crosses to make your head spin.
Add into that a movie edited like the audience is constantly flipping channels on a television, characters so poorly realized that they're less human beings than rough draft notes on the back of a napkin, and a soundtrack so obtrusive that it feels like some scary-looking guy in the crew was blasting his radio and the director didn't have the balls to ask him to turn it down, and you have one delirious mindfuck of a flick. I have no idea what was going on when the movie was happening, and thinking about it a few days later, I still have no idea what the hell happened.
Good luck!
