[yasr_overall_rating]
A teenage boy and his grandfather wager a bet: which of them will be the first to ‘score’ with a woman.
Audiences are used to Hollywood dramas pandering to their baser instincts and bombarding them with easy-digestible sentiments, instead of trying to elevate their collective consciousness with insightful, potentially life-changing existential introspections. Of course, (increasingly rare) exceptions to the rule exist, but there is a clear dearth of such fare, the few truly good dramas being delegated to the low-budget, indie market.
It’s especially disheartening when independent features, free of studio interference, attempt to appeal to the lowest common denominator and emulate Hollywood’s worst tendencies. Finola Hughes’ borderline-offensive feature directorial debut fails to exhibit any sense of vivacity, novelty or basic filmmaking proficiency that, say, small-budget films like Lenny Abrahamson’s recent, visceral “Room” display. The film resembles the kind of sappy crap the Dream Factory churns out on a weekly basis – imagine a Katherine Heigl/Nicholas Sparks adaptation, made on a shoestring budget, with neither Heigl nor Sparks, and you’ll have an idea of what to expect from “The Bet.”
Scott Hagood plays Addison, the film’s hapless protagonist, who, in the very first shot, types “I’m 18 and still a virgin” into Yaggle – what, I assume, is the clever result of combining the words “Google” and “Yahoo” (I can almost hear the clap of high-fives at the table-read). Addison plays video games with his socially-awkward friends Tyler (T.J. Alvarado) and Raul (Peter Isaac). His raunchy playboy grandpa, Collier (Tim T. Whitcomb), sports a stud in his ear and eyeball-scalding Hawaiian shirts, and gives Addison valuable life advice, like the following driving tip: “Women love a man who can handle a stick.” Addison’s widowed mother, Libby (Portia Thomas), worries about being left alone when her son goes off to college. She is dating a man, but has been out of the game for a long time, her social rustiness weirdly exemplified in her inability to pick a household accessory (her choices include ugly, ceramic leprechauns, woodpeckers and eagles). Libby misses her husband; “I still don’t get how someone can just get leukemia,” is one of her piercingly keen observations.
One day, Collier challenges his grandson: if Addison gets laid before him, he gets Collier’s old, slick Pontiac; if Addison loses, he has to fix the porch and do landscaping work (the horror!). They get to choose each other’s victims – sorry! – love interests: “three choices a piece, three weeks to do it.” Grandpa’s “selections” for the young man include an unattainable sex bomb, who only sleeps with jocks; a goth dominatrix, who only sleeps with college students; and Jennifer (Mary O’Connor), the cute-as-a-button, blue-eyed girl of Addison’s – and, let’s face it, folks – everyone’s dreams. Grandpa’s “picks” are determined at a retirement home: a horny cougar, a grieving widow, and an uptight world traveler.
What ensues is a protracted and predictable journey of self-discovery, chockfull of stereotypical characters, inadvertent sexism, sappy montages and misjudged advice, such as when Grandpa Collier tells Addison to “just grab ‘em and kiss ‘em” (I’m not so sure most women would agree with that strategy). Some scenes, like the one where Addison flirts with the sultry bombshell for the first time, or visits the “bad girl” at a pseudo-gothic club (the director is obviously completely out of touch with contemporary youth) are borderline unwatchable.
Desperate attempts to elicit laughs – an impromptu face licking, forced lines like “my soul hurts when I breathe” – are so cringe-worthy, they would make David Brent shudder in revulsion. The tonal shifts are jarring, Finola Hughes’ background as a soap actress (300 episodes of “General Hospital”, no less!) particularly evident in “The Bet”’s dramatic scenes, which are so soapy, I felt like I dropped a bar and was being bent over in a jail shower room. At the very least, I expected the cinematography to be decent, considering Craig Kohlhoff has worked on the sets of “Mr. & Mrs. Smith” and “Punch-Drunk Love,” but it’s rudimentary at best, with some shots seemingly blocked to purposefully obscure actors… Which is probably for the best – the performances here are more wooden than Grandpa Collier’s Viagra-induced erection.
The concept of competing against a family member to get some action is inherently creepy. “The Bet”’s misogynistic approach is baffling, considering the director is a woman. When you combine creepiness with misogyny (behold the sequence where Grandpa Collier chooses high-school girls for his grandson on campus!), and add a dash of ageism, the resulting effect is similar to that of chugging a cup of rotten prunes – you’ll be washing the sour taste from your mouth for days to come.
“The Bet” is a rare example of independent filmmaking where the goal was seemingly to appease every demographic with the most trite, manipulative tactics. The whole project should have been left alone. The film offers no new insight into human relationships, generational disparity or coming of age, in addition to being distasteful – but it’s worst offense is its underestimation of contemporary audiences’ intelligence. Perhaps Hughes’ will learn from her mistakes, and her next effort will be more honest and shrewd – but if I were you, I wouldn’t bet on it.
For more info about the movie visit the Official Website
