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This is one of those movies that totally swept me away and left me feeling altered. Wes Anderson creates an emotional landscape populated by vivid, deep characters. The number of these who undergo significant changes in this film is remarkable, as is the number of stylistic flourishes that add to the unique world of Rushmore. To give two examples I would point out the little kid who manages to appear in countless scenes throughout the movie, most significantly in the final scene and in Bill Murray's glorious Graduate-esque dive into the pool. Also, did anybody else notice just how surreal the scene where Max pretends to get hit by a car is? If you think about it critically it could only be some strange fantasy (I mean, he climbs onto the roof...), but it works perfectly within the logic of the film. I don't feel the need to generalize much about this film, its merit should be obvious to those who have the special knowledge of one whose passions don't win her/him acceptance, comfort, or reward. These are just two of my favorite little things that make this film great.

I am a huge fan of punxploitation films, and usually I can get something out of them, even if they are basically bad movies. SLC Punk is one of the most unenjoyable films of ANY kind I have ever seen. It offends me as a punk, as a film lover, and as a human being for having wasted my time watching it. At many points just plain boring, SLC Punk is always irritating, and seems to be targeted to appeal to those with the pseudo-rebellious mentality of a spoiled 12 year old.

A more accurate title for this film would have been "slc Poser", since the real issue at the heart of it (and this isn't just my analysis- like everything about this movie it is explicit in the script) is that Matthew lillard's character Steve-O never really was a punk at heart, just a poser with more big words to sling in his vapid attempt at anti-authoritarian philosophy. In this sense, maybe this is a film about why punk rock fails for so many kids. If you're just a rich kid for whom "anarchy" is an excuse to act like a frat boy and "punk" only means dressing in certain clothes, it should be no surprise that these things are not permanent. This is obvious from the first frame of the film, though it seems to take Steve-O forever to figure it out. One the biggest problems with the movie is the MTV-style editing and ultra-slick production value, which are more suited to a "Hackers"-esque techopop movie than a film about punk, which even in its most superficial form is gritty and unrefined. There are so many jump cuts in this film that I started to wonder if the director was just too lazy to try and match-cut. Also, the ultra-saturated colors and herky-jerky pace give the whole thing the feel of a saturday morning cartoon show (though one to which "f-you" is the catch phrase of choice). This is only worsened by the weak, overly-expressive acting, with Lillard mugging it up and Heroin Bob's dull requiem of "dude"-isms. Even the soundtrack, which relies on classic tunes from various genres, feels tacked on and jumbled. Penelope Spheeris can make movies this glossy, but the reason kids love "Suburbia" (or even "Repo Man" or "Sid and Nancy") is because it made the punk aspects seem organic to the film, and maybe the were. Here there is no question that you are watching outright exploitation of punk rock in the name of a glossy Hollywood flick. The experience may have elements of truth to it, but the film's attitude is distanced - it's lost touch. This is the cinematic equivalent of your parents telling you you'll grow out of it. You know they didn't get it right when ever

I laughed so hard at the end of this movie that I almost want to say it was the funniest film I ever saw. Maybe you need to see it in a theater as I did, to get that communal realization going, but the homoerotic relationship between Shane and the little boy in this film is so over-the-top that it's both creepy and hilarious.

Although little Jimmy's performance is a big factor, it's really all the fault of the script, which emulates John Ford's great symbolic metaphors of great American Myth. The vulgarity of the symbolism comes off in a whole new context to the '90s viewer (I have to assume even the most subversive filmmakers, which these were not, wouldn't have consciously alluded to pedaphilia in 1953). But come on! I won't spoil all the great double-meanings for you here, but rest assured it isn't exactly hard to pick up on.

The metaphor the film was going for was all that tired manifest- destiny let's all start a nuclear family America's Dreaming fluff that they still cram into Social Studies books in our less enlightened public schools. Geez, the 'bad guy' free-range rancher has a valid point about his claim! But no, Shane and his friends have to come in and pave the way for factory farming and suburbia! First though, Shane has to take off so that little Jimmy won't be in love with him, er, the idea of him. Oh yeah, and mom wants him too!

All in all this is a pretty bad flick, with poor expressionist (read: melodramatic) acting and some really poor match-cutting in the night/day department. It is, however, one of the best unintentionally funny films about a little proto-arian boy who falls in love with a big cowboy who sits erect on his horse up until the end, when he must limply make his way into the annals of American history.