Loveless, jobless, possibly terminally ill, Frank has had enough of the downward spiral of America. With nothing left to lose, Frank takes his gun and offs the stupidest, cruelest, and most repellent members of society. He finds an unusual accomplice: 16-year-old Roxy, who shares his sense of rage and disenfranchisement. Written by
One of the TV clips shown is a documentary on mass killer Charles Whitman who famously shot people at random from the University of Texas clock tower. Whitman left a note saying that he thought there was something wrong with his brain and asking for an autopsy to be performed on it after the police killed him. Unlike Frank it was determined he genuinely had a brain tumour and was not responsible for his actions. See more »
When Roxy finds Frank's motel room and she's inside the suit bag daring Frank to commit suicide, her hair band is falling down, but in the next cut it is already fixed, although her arms are inside the bag (so she couldn't fix it herself). See more »
Oh, I get, and I am offended. Not because I've got a problem with bitter, predictable, whiny, millionaire disk jockeys complaining about celebrities or how tough their life is, while I live in an apartment with paper-thin walls next to a couple of Neanderthals who, instead of a baby, decided to give birth to some kind of nocturnal civil defense air-raid siren that goes off every fuckin' night like it's Pearl Harbor. I'm not offended that they act like it's my responsibility to protect their ...
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The character that tries to buy Roxy at the diner is listed as "The Pancake Eating Pedophile". See more »
What a great movie. It's rather as if Goldthwait has made an answer to Oliver Stone's Natural Born Killers by way of Mike Judge's Office Space. Through the eyes of Joel Murray's Frank, we see a variety of society's ills and thankfully, Goldthwait doesn't dwell on them. To do so would be like gawking at the stupidity when you walk into a Walmart; it's just going to make you dwell longer at the stupidity on display, and you are still in a Walmart.
Instead, we get one of those movies that you either are along with or you aren't, you get or you don't. If you get it, you wish that Frank had a few more monologues, if you don't, you'd think it was advocating random shooting sprees.
Thankfully the script and Murray's brilliant portrayal of Frank has him as a principled, moral character who has his suicide interrupted by one terrible reality TV show too many. Along the way he teams up with a psychotic schoolgirl. He's rebelling violently about what society has become, she's rebelling against what society is.
It isn't a huge film, without a large budget, but well made. I felt that it worked best compared to Oliver Stone's Natural Born Killers, which showed spree killers as celebrities. In God Bless America the characters lament that they haven't even made the news. But in the end, Stone's film glories this shallow quest for fame while Goldthwait's film answers it, showing what happens to America when everyone is unkindly reaching for it.
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