So this week, ahead of cinemas reopening next month, I decided to watch the runner-up at the Razzies, The Fanatic, directed and co-written by Fred Durst and starring John Travolta.
This movie had a cinema release in the US in mid-2019, a short run no doubt further crimped by the savage response of critics. It did not make cinemas in Australia but is available on streaming services. I rented it on Google Play for $2.99, reduced from $5.99.
Is it worth the three bucks? Absolutely.
First, though, a Razzies snapshot. Travolta won worst actor for two films: The Fanatic and sports action caper Trading Paint. The Razzies often do this: bestow the award to one actor for two films. The argument is that he or she was so bad in each that it’s impossible to split them. Indeed, Travolta was named worst actor in 2000 for two movies: Battlefield Earth and Lucky Numbers.
This year’s awards made him a seven-time bad actor nominee, equal with Kevin Costner but behind Adam Sandler, who has also won worst actress (for Jack and Jill in 2011). In the actress ranks, the most-awarded are Madonna (five) and Bo Derek (three). All of them, however, are in another league when compared with the record holder: 15-time nominee and four-time winner Sylvester Stallone.
That is not a bad segue to The Fanatic, in which Travolta plays a man named Moose, who is obsessed with movies in general and with one actor in particular, action star Hunter Dunbar. “I go to all of your movies, even the crappy ones,’’ he tells Dunbar (Canadian actor Devon Sawa) at one point.
It’s not spelled out but I think Moose is on the autism spectrum. He’s easily reduced to tears and, we will learn, to anger. We first see him riding a moped along Hollywood Boulevard. He dresses like a kid, wears glasses, has a bowl haircut and a grey beard. He works as a street performer, costumed as an English Bobby. Another street performer, Todd (Jacob Grodnik), who sticks nails through his nose while his accomplice picks pockets, is cruel to Moose. When a security guard intervenes and chases off Todd, he says to Moose: “You can’t keep letting people shit on you.” It’s good advice but Moose takes it too far.
This is Durst’s third film, following The Education of Charlie Banks (2007) and The Longshots (2008). He is best known as the frontman of US rap-rock band Limp Bizkit. One of their songs pops into the movie, which is the director’s privilege, I suppose.
I like his approach to this new film, an 88-minute psychological thriller that might be compared with Martin Scorsese’s King of Comedy (1982), Rob Reiner’s Misery (1990) and, more recently, Todd Phillips’s Joker. He holds back from revealing too much. He lets the characters tell the story, and it’s a story that doesn’t end, even when the credits roll.
Moose is desperate to meet Dunbar. He crashes a cast-and-crew party for his most recent film. At the bar, he asks for a strawberry milkshake. He mingles. It doesn’t go well. Another day, he lines up for an hour when the star is doing a signing at a movie memorabilia shop. He does meet him, briefly, and it doesn’t go well. He then learns, via his paparazzi friend, Leah (Canadian actress Ana Golja), of a mobile phone app that maps the location of actors’ homes. There are some good jokes here about Ben Affleck and Jamie Lee-Curtis. Travolta, by the way, lives on an estate in Florida that includes runways for the fleet of private jets he owns.
Moose writes Dunbar a letter and goes to his house. He sneaks inside and what he does is creepy. Travolta is brilliant here. Moose knows he should not be doing what he’s doing but he’s too excited to stop. As Leah puts it: “Moose didn’t just cross the line, he f..king nuked it.” When he is walking home, Dunbar drives past, with his teenage son. He recognises Moose, stops and warns him to stop stalking him. That word, stalker, saddens and infuriates Moose.
There’s a sudden and dramatic plot shift. I will not reveal any more, except to say that Moose and Dunbar meet again and this sets up the tense, sharp-edged final third of the movie that explores, in part, the mystery of acting.
Early on we see a shot from one of Dunbar’s movies, Vampire Hunters. Asked by the woman in his arms if he’s worried the vampires will seek revenge, he says “Revenge is my middle name”. That sounds corny on screen, but might be less so in real life.
When a movie does well at the annual Golden Raspberry Awards, an Oscars parody that recognises the worst picture, worst actor and so on, I pay attention. The musical Cats licked the 2020 Razzies, announced in March, winning worst movie, worst director (Tom Hooper) and several other categories. I reviewed Cats when it came out in January. You can count on one hand the number of reviewers who liked the movie and I am one of them.