A Boston-based Irish Catholic twist on the “guys with guns” genre that was all the rage after Reservoir Dogs. In these movies, the heroes were of the anti variety and humor and blood mixed like scotch and soda—and don’t forget the Mexican standoff scene. Most of those movies are no good and this one has its hack moments, but it’s emerged as the cult favorite of the genre. At the very least, it’s remarkable for being a true word-of-mouth success story. Critics never liked it, it barely saw a theatrical release and the film is forever haunted by how 28-year-old writer/director Troy Duffy turned into an A-1 asshole after his first sip of success. See the fascinating documentary Overnight for more on this. Long story short, Duffy became such a terror after he sold his screenplay that he bungled a sweet deal with Miramax and ended up making the movie for a smaller company and under a contract that cut him out of the home video profits.
Then, home video became where the film—which showed in only five theaters—found its audience and earned millions.
It’s not a great movie. Its humor tends to be so shrill that you want to yell at the characters to shut up and it has a color-by-numbers sense of cool. On the other hand, it’s got a clever side. Its story of two Irish-American brothers who go on a vigilante killing spree of local mobsters while a crack FBI detective is on their trail is at its most witty when Duffy shows us the aftermath of each bloodbath, then shows us the FBI man’s slick theory about what occurred, and then flashes back to the clusterfuck that actually happened.
There are also memorable performances. Sean Patrick Flanery and Norman Reedus don’t look like brothers, but their tense camaraderie is convincing enough as the terror of Boston’s criminal underworld. Meanwhile, Willem Dafoe gets the plum role as the eccentric FBI agent. Dafoe is a razor-witted dandy who examines crime scenes to a score of classical music that he plays through headphones, smokes more than the grill in a barbecue restaurant and isn’t above sympathizing with crooks. Dafoe plays it as high camp and steals the whole movie for his effort. His smallest gestures light up the screen. When I saw this in a theater on St. Patrick’s Day, the crowd leaped to applause for Dafoe’s entrance.
It all adds up to a movie that I kinda like and kinda don’t like. Consensus is similarly mixed. Fifteen years later, you still can’t find many critics who champion it, while, among movie fans, arguments rage. That’s a cult movie if there ever was one.