Same old story
Deborah Ross The Chumscrubber 15, nationwide T thought I'd go and see Ocean's 13, as it 1 is the biggest film this week, but then changed my mind. It's not that I don't care for enormous movies about casino heists — I care very, very deeply about casino heists, as it happens — but I don't think I can care about this, the franchise's third outing. So instead I opt for the wild card, The Chumscrubber, which, as film titles go, is not the most agreeable, but maybe I only think that because I once had a chum who was a scrubber and I did not like her much at all.
The Chumscrubber is one of those 'there is something up in Suburbia'-type movies, which is a weird genre, as I grew up in Suburbia and there was never anything up, not a dicky-bird. It does have a good cast, though, featuring Jamie Billy Elliot Bell (who must be nearly 12 by now, at least), Glenn Close, Jason Isaacs and Ralph Fiennes, who plays a character who goes from local mayor to madly painting blue dolphins all over the place. What's all that about? No idea. Not a clue. This is the sort of film that has ideas but lacks the clarity to pull them off. Fiennes looks genuinely bewildered throughout, although whether this bewilderment belongs to the actor or the character is anyone's guess.
OK, so what do we have here? The nominal story opens with Dean (Bell), a high-school loner, discovering the suicide of his only friend, Troy, and stumbling out in shock. Burdened with guilt, Dean willingly medicates himself with prescription drugs from his unbearable psychiatrist father (William Fichtner), and tries to put the event out of his mind. However, when a group of school thugs (Justin Chatwin, Lou Taylor Pucci, Camilla Belle) come calling to retrieve stolen drugs that were promised to them by Troy, Dean is pulled out of his isolation as we are pulled into a world of teen alienation, drugs, violence and adults who sometimes go bananas painting blue dolphins but mostly just never listen to their kids. That's the running joke: adults who never listen to their kids. There is even a kidnapping where the adolescent victim isn't missed by his parents because they fail to realise he is gone. Unforgivable, although the peace was probably nice.
The first half-hour of the film is vaguely promising, even though there are no casino heists; not the one, which is disappointing for someone who cares about them so much. But the script is neat in places, at least at the outset, but from then on the film fails in its daring. It wants to be daring, craves to be daring in an almost insufferably self-conscious way, but when it comes down to it, haven't we seen this all before anyway? And haven't we seen it better done? This film is American Beauty served up with a good portion of Desperate Housewives and a generous dollop of Donnie Darko.
So, it lacks a truly original voice? Yes, but let's not hold that against it. Christ, if it were held against me, I'd never work again. It's more the other stuff, like the adults all being shallow grotesques and the jokes (it bills itself as a 'black comedy'), which you can not only see coming a mile off but are no more than easy jibes at suburban life. Actually, I partially retract the 'shallow grotesques' comment as Glenn Close is truly affecting as Troy's grieving mother; a woman who feels compelled to say to everyone, 'I want you to know that in no way whatsoever do I blame you for Troy's death.' Of course, she will eventually have to accept whose fault it truly was — hers — and while this is a cliché, it is quite moving all the same. As for the more surreal aspects — like the blue dolphins — I just don't get them at all. The Chumscrubber of the title, by the way, turns out to be a headless, post-apocalyptic video-game character (don't know, don't ask).
The Chumscrubber wants to explore big issues like the medicating of the youth of America, affluent parental negligence and suburban forces so dark and evil it's a wonder everyone doesn't just pack up and move to the 29th floor of some tower block. But the finished film simply can't keep up with its ambitions, concluding in an act of violence that's as all too easy as it is unlikely. Ultimately, this film fails to hit any true notes, just doesn't convince, just as my chum the scrubber never did when she would say, 'What, no knickers? I must have clean forgot!'
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