The Scarlet Poffernickel

It all seemed to be going so well: stylistic introductions to the principal players (including a loving shot of Scarlett Johansson's panties - succeeding in keeping me off the streets and in my seat for the next 80 minutes), a failed first robbery attempt, a new plot hatched, a fortress breached, a test stolen - and ultimately, one of the accomplices sacrificing his freedom for the sake of Scarlett's joyous panties. It was this last incident which affected the clique of teen thieves as adversely as the asteroid which ploughed into the Yucatan Peninsula 65 million years ago precipitating the extinction of the dinosauria.

Witnessing their buddy being led away in handcuffs apparently set Epiphany bells a-ringin' in the thieves' well-toned breasts, and instead of simply going through with the test, answers at the ready (up sleeves, down socks, peeking from push-up bras), each character, which the film-makers tried so hard to flesh out in pockets of meaningful dialog intersticed between the drama/comedy, suddenly re-write themselves from a morality handbook on Christianity via Sesame Street. Effectively nullifying the previous 80 minutes of plotting and motivation and character development.

We're not talking "character arcs" - we're talking re-rendering the characters altogether. No matter where their motivations were apparently leading them, the denouement saw them do 180s, 195s and 250s, with no regard to the previous exposition. You mean we invested all that time rooting for these perfect-complexioned prissies and now they lose the straight-up BALLS to follow through to payoff?

One of them spending the night in jail for robbery (and his subsequent sentence and criminal record) should have sent these twenty-something teens into even MORE of a recidivist funk against The System - instead, the one who gets nailed comes out a happy man because Scarlett suddenly wants to nail him for no apparent reason (guess she digs the tall, spineless type); the Smart Girl decides to go Slut (having realized, I suppose, that it's easier to get anywhere in the world with a good pair of ta-tas than a brain); the Ball Player goes Oedipal Complex under his mother's iron hand and the Bong-Stalker (in a move which the film-makers presume will absolve all these crims from sin) passes out the stolen SAT answers to arbitrary deadheads like himself, thereby skewing the final results ANYWAY (the lame reason HE gives for passing up the cheatery). And the leader of the gang, All-Amurrican Whitebread with the metric pound of gel in his hair (Chris Evans), gets a mother-to-son talk from his older brother, played by Matthew Lillard aka Shaggy (Yoiks! Who knew Scooby Doo's master could be so lucid?), which makes him Go Jesus and forgo his cheat-sheets as well. Of course he does. Peer pressure - even from a guy whose only friend is a talking dog - is a powerful thing…

How did the movie derail so nastily? It's called Pandering to the Whims of Focus Groups: Society's perception, channeled through the lowest common denominator, decreeing immature resolutions to shallow, inoffensive movies. It's the Focus Group ruling that No Teen Model Shall Be Seen Cheating, so everyone with a hot butt comes to some inane reconciliation with their inadequacies - and still make their desired score if they take the test. Or skip it altogether and still make good. Of course they will.

But notice how the film has no qualms in portraying disheveled drug-mongers getting away with cheating? - because that's what the WASP MILFs and whitebread nanas WANT you to see. Focus Group rules that All Unkempt, Unshaven College Males Are Immoral Junkies: dem Debbil-Chillun wid dem long hair and dem stanky teeth. While Falwell's specter cackles in glee…

Bong-Stalker's outro narration explains how every character (shiftless or otherwise) involved with the heist amazingly achieves social and financial success. Of course they do. It's not the REAL real world - it's the MTV Real World.

Was the film trying to tell us that SATs really don't count for what you make of your life (after establishing in the opening titles that "all those other tests are what you were - the SATs are what you will be.")? Did the heist lead these kids to a better place in their psyches, allowing them to attain that "perfect score" with their careers? Bodacious, dude!...

I should have quit while I was ahead, as the film lived up to its title in its first ten minutes, when Scarlett's knickers were so close to my face I could touch myself - perfect!

Score!


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