Review of Bully

I recently saw Mean Creek, a film dealing with much the same core idea as Bully presents. The ever-interesting idea of comparing and contrasting two thematically similar films was my primary motivation in the decision to dedicate my time to this film, evidently a more visceral and uncensored treatment of the subject. Within one minute, my heart had sunk: "A Larry Clark film" appeared upon the screen. I recalled immediately my viewing of Kids, a film to which I had rather looked forward when I finally got around to watching it, and a film which I found to be nothing short of genuinely offensive, not an experience I often encounter. No, I am not offended by graphic sexual scenes, language, portrayal of drug use, or any such thing. Rather, I am offended by a film so morally vacuous and repugnant, and direction so perverse and borderline paedophilic as to be almost stomach-churningly awful. Nevertheless, I am not here to comment on Kids, but rather to take fresh judgement to Bully. I convinced myself to approach the film with a fresh and unbiased mind, and not to let my opinion of the director's debut feature shadow my potential appreciation of this, his third. The very first line of dialogue, considerably too lascivious to repeat here, informed me that it was simply not going to go well. It was ever before the thirty minute mark that the ability to sit still left me, my limbs in constant motion as though struggling to escape, sweat streaking my brow in pained discomfort. To quote the screenwriter who went on to insist his name be removed from the film, it is "revolting, offensive and childish… it much more closely resembles a porno. Unbelievably gratuitous sex, no story, zero motivation, no character development...". And that, dear reader, from the man who wrote the film. As with Kids, Larry Clark's directorial signature appears to be to shove his camera between the legs of a female lead, whether she be clothed or not, because we need full view of a character's underwear as she sits down. Of course. The gratuitous sex of which the screenwriter speaks is no understatement, few shots devoid of some glimpse of youthful flesh, an apparent preoccupation of Clark. So much can me said about the utter moral bankruptcy which accompanies such contemptible film-making, but I have limited time and word count, so along we must move. The latter two points of the aforementioned quote are key to the film's stupidity. The murder rationale comes in the form of "like... um... so... we could kill him... like... totally... cool...". I do not care what mysteriously impressed critics may say, this is not a scathing portrayal of modern teenage lifestyle, of middle-class America, or of laissez-faire parental influence. This is garbage. Not one of the seven characters involved in plotting to brutally murder a friend (who, incidentally, is neither intimidating nor the least bit believable as an omnipotent and omnipresent force of terror) consider for one moment anything other than this course of action. This is not how real people function, no matter what the "based on a true story" tag may postulate. I find it immensely hard to believe that not one of the seven saw a problem with immediately resorting to cold blooded murder, but hey, this is Larry Clark's vision of the world, so some gratuitous sex scenes in the place of character development, realistic dialogue, or any sort of cinematic artistry will do. Speaking of cinematic artistry, as we're here, no Larry, a several minute long shot of the camera spinning around a circle of faces is not impressive, it's idiotic, but that's hardly a surprise coming from something with your name affixed. A quick mention needs to be made of the parents in this film, namely to wonder where the hell they are. They seem content to allow orgies occur in their homes, to allow their futureless children to drive about unquestioned in their cars, to provide easy access to firearms. Look, I know that people like this exist, but they are not the same people who are portrayed as concerned about their children, as these parents are. Again, the world of Clark is populated by characters almost as morally bankrupt, disconnected from reality, and inherently imbecilic as he. The man is nothing but evil, those who adulate and applaud him fools who have mistaken his perversion for art. Terrible films are one thing, but terrible films which dress themselves in a veil of artistic merit are so utterly and entirely ghastly, meretricious, obdurate, errantly dowdy, ignominious, opprobrious, and an infinite number of such synonyms as to make me want to find the person responsible and have them punished in the most severe manner possible. Larry Clark deserves a fate far worse than that of his characters combined for this pseudo-intellectual genuinely questionably perverse and dangerously-close-to-paedophilic kitschy ostentatious crap.

So far removed from any form of morality that one can hardly manage to cry out in despair, Bully is mindless trash of the highest order from a man with the directorial flair of a pancake. Were it not for the fact that I detest him and his paedophilic nonsense posing as a serious treatment of a serious topic in a serious medium, I think I would pity him, for so distanced is he from any form of reality. I cannot begin to fathom how such a deleterious assault on cinema itself could possibly have been conducted without genuine intent of simply offending everyone unfortunate enough to encounter this garbage. Do not allow yourself to be counted amongst this group. If you want a film dealing with the bully psyche and dangers of fighting fire with fire within this context, please watch Mean Creek. If you want to see a genuine exploration of teenage attitudes towards recreational sex and drugs, why not try Bertolucci's The Dreamers? Anything is better than Bully, and I really do mean anything.