Director: James Westby Writer: James Westby Starring: Katie O'Grady, John Keyser From the moment we see Meris (Katie O'Grady) and Mitch Canfield (John Keyser) together, they seem like an odd couple. M eris is quirky and mousy, while Mitch looks like a muscle-headed football star of yesteryear. Some say that opposites attract, but from the get-go I could not stop wondering how these two ever got together. (We are left uncertain of why Meris is dressed up as a punk rock caricature in the opening scene -- in which she wipes her "rag-blood" on a woman's face -- but that version of Meris is even farther from a perfect match for Mitch.) Mitch recently lost his job in Irvine, California and Rid of Me begins as he and Meris relocate to Mitch's hometown of Laurelwood, Oregon so that he can work as a lackey for his high school buddy, Dale...
- 4/24/2011
- by Don Simpson
- SmellsLikeScreenSpirit
By Sam Weisberg - April 22, 2011
At the beginning of James Westby's “Rid of Me,” a frowning, diminutive thirty-something woman—rendered alarmingly feline by bursts of Goth makeup—and an icy blonde princess stride past each other, in slow motion, in a supermarket. “You bitch,” the blonde mutters under her breath. Upon which, the Goth girl, without breaking a sweat, jams her hands down her skirt and smears menstrual blood all over the blonde's face.
This prologue is, like much of the rest of “Rid of Me,” jarringly funny yet punishingly shrill. Westby has a great deal of malicious, playful energy; his sheer joy at making this movie electrifies almost every frame. But though you share in his enthusiasm at times, Westby is ultimately hampered by the same hyperkinetic overconfidence that marred “Run Lola Run” and similar movies; it confuses breathlessness with boldness. The movie needs a massive dose of Ritalin.
At the beginning of James Westby's “Rid of Me,” a frowning, diminutive thirty-something woman—rendered alarmingly feline by bursts of Goth makeup—and an icy blonde princess stride past each other, in slow motion, in a supermarket. “You bitch,” the blonde mutters under her breath. Upon which, the Goth girl, without breaking a sweat, jams her hands down her skirt and smears menstrual blood all over the blonde's face.
This prologue is, like much of the rest of “Rid of Me,” jarringly funny yet punishingly shrill. Westby has a great deal of malicious, playful energy; his sheer joy at making this movie electrifies almost every frame. But though you share in his enthusiasm at times, Westby is ultimately hampered by the same hyperkinetic overconfidence that marred “Run Lola Run” and similar movies; it confuses breathlessness with boldness. The movie needs a massive dose of Ritalin.
- 4/22/2011
- by Screen Comment
- Screen Comment
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