The Last Time I Committed Suicide

You know, normally when you have a good script and excellent

actors on your project, you can turn out something decent, good or

great...even when you, as the director, believe you're talented and

think you know what you're doing. But so far as "The Last Time I

Committed Suicide" is concerned, Stephen T. Kay flat out ruined

this movie, and it is damn near unforgivable.

Here we have a screenplay filled with some of the most wonderful

dialog you can imagine being delivered by a troupe of wonderful

actors. Thomas Jane gives a star making turn as Neal Cassady,

and he is backed up with a startlingly naturalistic and cozy turn by

Keanu Reeves as his drunk buddy, Harry. But could you enjoy the

beautiful rhythm of their work? Noooooooooo. By God, Mr. Kay

was going to remind you every step of the way that he is

DIRECTING this film and you are going to pay attention to that fact,

come hell or high water.

I mean, here we have a quiet intense drama about a charismatic

man who inspired people like Jack Kerouac and Alan Ginsberg,

and the director uses every trick in "The MTV Bible of Pseudo

Filmography" to hide that fact and (supposedly) make it palatable

for the ADD generation. You got your jump cuts and edits every .9

seconds and odd angles and pretty inserts and on and on and on

until I finally wanted to scream at the screen, "Take a F*****G

valium!" Drama has to unfold; it cannot be force fed down your

gullet because the man making the movie thinks you're too easily

distracted to give a damn about the characters.

I've only seen one other movie where the director completely

destroyed a wonderful script -- "A Chorus of Disapproval"

(although if "While You Were Sleeping" had had any other actress

in the lead besides Sandra Bullock, it would also fit in this cursed

category).

So...if you like your drama spit out in food fight fashion, then this is

the movie for you. But if you want anything approaching reality,

check out something like "La Dolce Vita" by Federico Fellini, who

has more style in his right pinkie than in all of Stephen T. Kay's

body.