Hundreds of years from now, when anthropologists sift through cultural artifacts to figure out what Los Angeles was like in 1985, they will stumble upon this movie and stop digging for any more evidence. It's a perfect document of stupid.
There are so many So Cal-centric themes and cultural conceits embedded in this film that it would be impossible to list them all, but let's just mention a few:
You look at the career arcs of the people involved in this Andy Sidaris project and you see an I-405 pile-up of shattered dreams, a real-life "Boogie Nights."
On the plus side, breasts. Lots of breasts.
There are so many So Cal-centric themes and cultural conceits embedded in this film that it would be impossible to list them all, but let's just mention a few:
- An obsession with cars, and the childish idea that your ride says something about your value as a person. (Cody, the hero, drives a DeLorean and a Firenza, both cherry red)
- A need to mock hillbillies, as seen in the "comic relief" appearances of the Buffingtons. If LA has one calling card, it's that it thinks itself vastly superior to rednecks. Which isn't much of a statement at all.
- The obligatory New York "heavy" with a thick Brooklyn accent and a filthy mouth. Art Metrano, come on down!
You look at the career arcs of the people involved in this Andy Sidaris project and you see an I-405 pile-up of shattered dreams, a real-life "Boogie Nights."
On the plus side, breasts. Lots of breasts.