The Drugs Aren't Working
What can you say about a movie in which an out-of-control teenager performs keg stands in the Las Vegas desert, gets kidnapped and imprisoned in a rehab boot camp, does battle with evil counselors, stages a breakout, has at least a dozen substance-fueled meltdowns, finds Jesus at the hands of a magical black wino, breaks the urn containing his dad's ashes, and screams at his mother while she sobs and pops pills? I know what I say: totally awesome.
"Self-Medicated," the writing, directing, and acting debut of 24-year-old Monty Lapica (based on the story of his own life), is the best bad movie of 2007. Mr. Lapica plays Andrew, a hard-drinking teenager whose despairing mother (Diane Venora) consigns him to a rehab boot camp. At Brightways, Andrew butts heads with Dan (Michael Bowen), a counselor who refuses to use profanity and who enjoys searching body cavities. As long as "Self-Medicated" stays at Brightways, the story follows the tried and true narrative trajectory of "One Flew Over the Cuckoo's Nest," but when it leaves the facility things fall apart.
Late in the film, a mystical black homeless man opens Andrew's heart to the love of Jesus Christ in a pioneering scene that combines drunk driving with spiritual illumination. Ms. Venora might be doing the best acting of her career, but a truly monstrous wig seems to be trying to eat her head, and for much of the film, my attention was distracted by whether or not it would succeed. It's a strange thing to say about a movie that extols the virtues of a drug- and alcohol-free life, but this is a movie so deliciously bad that it can only be truly enjoyed if its audience is drunk.
