Directed by Stephen Herek
Written by John Stockwell
Starring Mark Wahlberg as Izzy/Chris Cole
-Jennifer Aniston as Emily Poule
-Timothy Spall as Mats
-Timothy Olyphant as Rob
Supposedly, Rock Star is a satire. Mark Wahlberg, Jennifer “Jen” Aniston and director Stephen Herek were actually trying to viciously attack the 80’s rock star myth, deconstruct it and use their scorn and wit to point out the folly of the entire lifestyle. My ass. The writer of Breast Men and the director of The Mighty Ducks team up with Marky Mark, himself an industry produced parody of Vanilla Ice, and “Jen” to basically do nothing more than put on wigs and sing bad metal. Jonathan Swift was satire, Spinal Tap was satire. Rock Star is about as satirical and interesting as That 80’s Show, and not quite as smart as That 70’s Show. Also, satires do not need happy endings. In fact, they are much more effective without a “normal” resolution. Expecting Stockwell to understand why would be like having Shaq as your Nietzsche tutor and needing a passing grade.
Like many a lousy, rotten flick, Rock Star takes no chances. Mark and “Jen” are dating and then he becomes a rock star, and guess what? His over-indulgent lifestyle pushes his girl away. I’m fucking shocked. The insulting part was that he gets her back by cutting his hair to look like Eddie Vedder. I’m sorry, but I’ll take brain dead rocker chicks any day over shoe-gazing, espresso sucking Pearl Jam fans ANY DAY. Rock Star could have gone in several directions. Mark and “Jen” could have never let the stardom get to them. That would have been boring, but at least original. They could have both became drunken hedonists. Herek toyed with that idea for two minutes by throwing together a half assed orgy that may or may not have involved hermaphrodites, but quickly thought better of possibly offending any Friends fans by showing Aniston as anything less than an accidental slut. What would have been at least sellable to the audience is that Mark and “Jen” don’t get back together. Especially since Mark’s whole deal was to be a “Rock Star.”
But no. Instead, we spend ninety minutes with a moron whose overriding ambition in life is to sing in a cover band. A non-Black Sabbath cover band I should point out. Through a particularly ham-fisted plot device, the band that he really likes makes Walhberg their lead singer. However, the tolls of life on the road is too much for he and “Jen’s” relationship. She moves to Seattle(?). Somehow, this retard, while drunk and eating pussy by the yard realizes that his life is empty and meaningless and that he has to change his ways if he wants “Jen” back. The really shitty thing is that we see none of it. Mark goes from slobbering drunk in a hotel room to having a beer with the band’s manager (Timothy Spall) talking about ex-wives and suddenly Marky gives it all up for “Jen”. I wish I were kidding you, but that is the amount of plot and character development Herek bothers to give us. I mean Jesus, even Bill and Ted’s Excellent Adventure, another of this guy’s masterpieces, had some fucking plot. All we got here is Dirk Diggler with long hair and bad guitar solos. No offense meant to Zack Wylde.
There is a laundry list of other things that are wrong with this sad, sad movie. I’ll spare you. Instead I’ll point out that the whole thing is ostensibly based on Judas Priest and what happened to them after Rob Halford left. That is where the movie went wrong in the first place. If the writer had had a drop more ambition than to just create a vehicle for Mark Wahlberg’s “unique talents”, he might have noticed that Rob Halford was the only fucking thing Judas Priest had going for it and once he quit, NO ONE CARED. Good night.
More of the same, although there is an extra barfy bit where Aniston talks about just wanting a normal life with her dog and her man. In that order.
- Film, Overall: 2
- DVD Extras: 2
- Story: 1
- Acting: 3
- Direction: 3
Ruthless Reviews Special Ratings
- Number of times movie was paused to do something else: My phone rang itself off the hook during this movie. Also, and this had nothing really to do with the movie per say, but after the first thirty seconds I began puking for no particular reason.
- Number of times you found yourself enjoying the movie: From time to time, but then the writer and director would point out just what a moron I was for renting this load of crap
- Number of times you wished you had taken that screenwriting class: Oh man… Many, many times.
- Number of times the oppressive soundtrack made you reach for your knife: Rock Star can actually be thought of as an oppressive soundtrack.
- Number of times you imagined the director snickering to himself: Well, there was the scene where the Batmobile raced the Ferarri…
- Number of times you realized how good Nudist Priest, the all nude Judas Priest cover bad you saw a few months ago, was: 11
- Number of times you wished that Rob Halford would appear and beat the crap out of everybody on the screen: 23