FUBAR (2002)

“I think you got suck all the way cranked to ten.”

*

I saw FUBAR once before, several years ago. Rarely had I loathed a movie so intensely. I deeply despised its characters, resented their very being — or at least what they represented — and regretted wasting any of my time on them.

However, Gru’s continued support of FUBAR, and my acceptance of Trailer Park Boys has gradually led me back for another chance . . . which has only convinced me to codify my wrath.

Furniture delivery swamper Terry Cahill (David Lawrence) and his down-and-out friend “Deaner” Murdoch (Paul Spence) spend nearly all their lives, er, fucked up beyond all repair. They abuse each other, burp, eat junk food, fart intentionally, fight, hire reluctant prostitutes, lie, listen to hard rock, litter, mooch, perform stunts, play pranks, shotgun beer, shout violent encouragement at sporting events, smoke, soil themselves, spit, vandalize, and vomit.

Meanwhile the ersatz director of this mess (Gordon Skilling) attempts to divine significance from their existence, a feat no less ludicrous than producing FUBAR itself. Ostensibly chronicling the “headbanger” subculture of western Canada, as a mockumentary, it can’t be relied upon for verity. Which leaves us expecting something entertaining.

Well, stop waiting and go look elsewhere, because this misfire don’t git’er done.

I doubt I could fully express my contempt, even given thousands of words, so I’ll try to keep the vitriol mercifully brief.

One may assume (incorrectly) I was offended by FUBAR’s coarse language, or perhaps for its handling of a testicular cancer plot. Instead I wondered what it all meant, assuming it meant anything at all. At best it shows “there are people like these Out There in the world” but so what?

What of substance do we learn? When does the fun begin? If someone is entertained by this lunacy, is it due to identification, or perhaps Schadenfreude? I find either possibility frankly distasteful.

What in hell did Gru see here that she deigned to give it a pass? Was she honestly amused by this tax-funded crap? Was it a twisted sort of nostalgia for her own teen years? I didn’t understand until I asked her about it the day after. Her answer was basically “There, but for grace, go I.” It really came down to a kind of edification.

Still, I’m not from Alberta, and don’t care about near misses or Wikipedia trivia. I can’t relate to, or easily tolerate, deliberate idiocy, either in or out of irresponsible non-entertainment.

The word “travesty” is rarely used enough or appropriately, yet it applies particularly to FUBAR . . . sheer stupidity in service of nothing.

I give’r just one star.

*

Rated 18A

80 minutes