As a subcategory of the horror genre, the exorcism film does not have the best reputation. For every The Exorcist, there are a dozen Posessed’s and Beyond the Door’s. Yet, when done well, there is rarely something as profoundly [...]
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| Shotgun--a Hobo's Best Friend |
You know the story. Murder, crime, corruption in the big city. Morale is low and moral codes even lower. And then--the man to change it all arrives.
No, this time it isn’t Batman. This time it’s a blue eyed, bloody mouthed homeless man armed with a shotgun, a seemingly endless store of shells, and the triggerfinger of justice. This time, it’s Jason Eisner’s Hobo with a Shotgun.
The film follows a well meaning and earnestly crazy Hobo (Rutger Hauer) as he makes the transformation from observer to vigilante. The opening positions him on a train arriving at the Gothamesque city we can only identify as Scumtown or Fucktown, a place where the rules don’t quite exist. As a corrupt cop says to the Hobo, “People don’t go bad like they do here.”
This is clear from the Hobo’s first experience in Scumtown, where he witnesses the a barbed wire noose decapitation. It is the work of Drake (Brian Downey), the cartoonish moblord that rules the city assisted by his two sons, Slick (Gregory Smith) and Rip (Nick Bateman), and an army of corrupt cops.
Yes--Scumtown is a bad place. The film makes this point a little overzealously, following Slick and Rip as they manically murder and maim, all the while cackling like hyenas on laughing gas. The city appears to be populated solely by the homeless, cops, prostitutes, and children (thrown in only for some off color child murders). The first half of the film includes so much giddy gore--displayed in a fiendish frenzy of blood and violent color--that it begins to feel like watching a snuff film with an amused sociopath.
Apparently, what Scumtown needs is a hero. A Hobo. When the Hobo finally gets his hands on a shotgun, he wreaks havoc on the scum of the city. In arguably the best sequence of the film, we see the Hobo killing thieves, murderers, child molesters, and corrupt cops, with clever headlines (“Hobo stops begging, demands change”) punctuating each act.
It is when the Hobo starts getting personal that the film really falls apart. The issue here is that the film, much like its main character who deliberates over the purchase of a lawn mower versus a shotgun, doesn’t know what it wants to be. Is the Hobo a vigilante or a man on a vendetta? Does he want to trim the scummy grasses of Scumtown or blow it all to hell in the name of his new prostitute friend, Abby (Molly Dunsworth)?
With a climax that lasts almost half of the film, Hobo shows itself to be disappointingly shallow. The manic energy of the first half bleeds into dull images of carnage after carnage at the hands of the Hobo as he shoots his way to the top of Scumtown’s power structure. It attempts to combine a reckless plunge into gore with a sympathetic vigilante arc, but it ends up confusing its signals. Wasn’t it this same rabid violence that the Hobo started his campaign against? Are we to simultaneously side with the Hobo and support the lore of the film, which has outlined such a killing frenzy as “bad”?
In the end, the film is a trendy package jam packed with seventies nostalgia. . It is an attractive package, flailing about with technicolor decadence, seeming to drench the images with the rich but faded hues of an old Rolling Stone cover. The jokes are well timed, the violence is gratuitous and gleeful, and the city landscape is richly designed and populated for the story. Where it falls short in story, it overcompensates with enthusiasm and confidence.
And if the character development doesn’t quite let us follow the Hobo through his rampage comfortably, well, maybe we’re better off for it. We should know better than to get close to someone here. It’s Scumtown.
For people who like: Machete, Grindhouse, Cannibal Holocaust
No, this time it isn’t Batman. This time it’s a blue eyed, bloody mouthed homeless man armed with a shotgun, a seemingly endless store of shells, and the triggerfinger of justice. This time, it’s Jason Eisner’s Hobo with a Shotgun.
The film follows a well meaning and earnestly crazy Hobo (Rutger Hauer) as he makes the transformation from observer to vigilante. The opening positions him on a train arriving at the Gothamesque city we can only identify as Scumtown or Fucktown, a place where the rules don’t quite exist. As a corrupt cop says to the Hobo, “People don’t go bad like they do here.”
This is clear from the Hobo’s first experience in Scumtown, where he witnesses the a barbed wire noose decapitation. It is the work of Drake (Brian Downey), the cartoonish moblord that rules the city assisted by his two sons, Slick (Gregory Smith) and Rip (Nick Bateman), and an army of corrupt cops.
Yes--Scumtown is a bad place. The film makes this point a little overzealously, following Slick and Rip as they manically murder and maim, all the while cackling like hyenas on laughing gas. The city appears to be populated solely by the homeless, cops, prostitutes, and children (thrown in only for some off color child murders). The first half of the film includes so much giddy gore--displayed in a fiendish frenzy of blood and violent color--that it begins to feel like watching a snuff film with an amused sociopath.
Apparently, what Scumtown needs is a hero. A Hobo. When the Hobo finally gets his hands on a shotgun, he wreaks havoc on the scum of the city. In arguably the best sequence of the film, we see the Hobo killing thieves, murderers, child molesters, and corrupt cops, with clever headlines (“Hobo stops begging, demands change”) punctuating each act.
It is when the Hobo starts getting personal that the film really falls apart. The issue here is that the film, much like its main character who deliberates over the purchase of a lawn mower versus a shotgun, doesn’t know what it wants to be. Is the Hobo a vigilante or a man on a vendetta? Does he want to trim the scummy grasses of Scumtown or blow it all to hell in the name of his new prostitute friend, Abby (Molly Dunsworth)?
With a climax that lasts almost half of the film, Hobo shows itself to be disappointingly shallow. The manic energy of the first half bleeds into dull images of carnage after carnage at the hands of the Hobo as he shoots his way to the top of Scumtown’s power structure. It attempts to combine a reckless plunge into gore with a sympathetic vigilante arc, but it ends up confusing its signals. Wasn’t it this same rabid violence that the Hobo started his campaign against? Are we to simultaneously side with the Hobo and support the lore of the film, which has outlined such a killing frenzy as “bad”?
In the end, the film is a trendy package jam packed with seventies nostalgia. . It is an attractive package, flailing about with technicolor decadence, seeming to drench the images with the rich but faded hues of an old Rolling Stone cover. The jokes are well timed, the violence is gratuitous and gleeful, and the city landscape is richly designed and populated for the story. Where it falls short in story, it overcompensates with enthusiasm and confidence.
And if the character development doesn’t quite let us follow the Hobo through his rampage comfortably, well, maybe we’re better off for it. We should know better than to get close to someone here. It’s Scumtown.
For people who like: Machete, Grindhouse, Cannibal Holocaust
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