Judge Daryl Loomis wonders if we should put rules in place to prevent stuntmen from directing films.
A night club in the big city can make you feel like a big shot or slap reality in your face.
Real-life stuntman Zac Lee Guarnaccia has decided to make a movie about himself, or a glorified version of him, and I have to watch. A huge, egotistical pat on the back, Rules is one of the worst excuses for a film that I've ever seen. At risk of offending a man who could very clearly waste me in a matter of seconds, Guarnaccia's movie is inexplicably stupid. How somebody could be so delusional as to think that this was a good idea is beyond me. And yet my brains are forever scarred by the memory.
Through the fog of grandeur, I could figure out that Rules concerns a stuntman (Guarnaccia) who, through his ridiculously bad behavior, can't get any work. As a result, he works as a bouncer and, though it makes him really mad that he has to work such a lowly job, he does like punching people in the face. One night, however, he's offended by a couple of bar patrons who just so happen to have connections to the industry. He proceeds to kidnap them and make them pay for the humiliations the acting game has forced upon him.
The best example of Guarnaccia's directorial talent void comes about fifteen minutes into the film. After the initial sequence in which he whines about his super-tough life, the action changes. Suddenly, there's a time code at the bottom corner of the screen with Guarnaccia and some lady doing exercise routines. This appeared to me as a mistake by the DVD manufacturer, placing one of the stuntman's workout videos on the disc instead. It turns out that this was actually part of the movie, though I only found this out after nearly ten minutes of Guarnaccia pumping it out to some horrible music.
That Rules receives any points at all is a result of the film finishing in a timely manner. At fewer than 90 minutes, it's a negligible amount of time in my life to have completely wasted. In the realm of pleasurable experiences in my life, it ranks somewhere in the neighborhood of my time around rusty nails. Insofar as there was no requirement for an emergency room visit, I guess I prefer this. At a certain point, Guarnaccia had to have realized how ridiculous this film is and that, maybe, it would be hard for general audiences to relate to a stuntman who feels jilted because he doesn't land the sweet stunt jobs. Had I ever cared about it, I surely do not now.
I reviewed a screener copy, so the final product may be better than this, but what does it really matter. The image on this disc from Zash Productions is full frame and looks poor, though I think that enhanced clarity would have only made it more painful. Stereo sound, likewise, is shoddy, but the less I heard, the better I felt. There were no extras on the disc I watched but, based on the delusional nature of the entire film, I figure the final probably will probably include a couple of commentaries, featurettes, an hour or so of deleted scenes, all put together in a box shaped like Guarnaccia's face. God forbid.
Can I call a person suffering from bizarre delusions guilty? Yes, yes I can,
though the word is hardly adequate.
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Scales of Justice
Studio: Zash Productions
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