THE LAST TIME I COMMITTED SUICIDE (1997, Stephen T Kay)

 

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The rambling tale of one man's ramblings, in a movie that strains desperately to make us care. 

Starring  Thomas Jane, Keanu Reeves, Adrien Brody, John Doe, Claire Forlani

Written by  Stephen T Kay

Produced by  Edward Bates, Louise Rosner   

Duration  92 minutes   

Famously, we're told never to judge a book by its cover. So, I suppose we shouldn't judge a film by its title, either. But when that title is as distinctive as THE LAST TIME I COMMITTED SUICIDE, it's kind of hard not to.

It's a title that suggests a movie that will deal with controversial subject matter in a quirky way. FOUR LIONS (2010) is, I would say, the all-timer example of this. Suicide-bomber comedy is not likely to ever be a category on Netflix, but director Chris Morris manages to pull off the headline-baiting premise, while making a star out of Riz Ahmed along the way.

CITIZEN RUTH (1996) is another one. Alexander Payne made his debut with a black comedy that puts Laura Dern's pregnant and dim-witted title character at the centre of the highly combustible abortion debate. Oh, and there was "shit, dude, I've got cancer!" movie 50/50 (2011), from that period when Joseph Gordon Levitt was starring in comedy pictures with Seth Rogan.

I reckon the best scenario for THE LAST TIME I COMMITTED SUICIDE would've been if it turned out to be a mid-90s version of the 1985 teen suicide comedy BETTER OFF DEAD, with Keanu Reeves taking over from John Cusack. Instead of trying to hang himself in his parent's garage, it could be Keanu, dressed in John Wickian suit, comically trying and repeatedly failing to shoot himself in the head with one of his many guns. Or dressing up as Neo from THE MATRIX, proclaiming "I need an exit!" and then jumping off a bridge. Um, anyway, more on Mr Reeves later.

What we actually got with this movie sadly turned out to be something pretty terrible.

OK, perhaps that's a little strong. But there's no escaping that upon on actually watching THE LAST TIME I COMMITTED SUICIDE, my first impression was bad and things only got worse from there. And it was nothing to do with how the movie deals with sensitive issues. The next few paragraphs recount my first impressions in a kind of stream of consciousness – a jazzy riff, if you will.

So, what do we have here. Thomas Jane is wandering around his apartment mumbling to himself, with black and white photography and an excruciating jazz score. Man, I hate jazz. Jane sounds like he's running lines or something? Is he an actor? Then he sits down at his typewriter and types something. So, a writer.

OK, so now it's settled into colour. Jane is waiting to be let in somewhere, holding flowers. He starts the scene with a voiceover, it sounds like maybe he's reciting poetry? No, he's talking about the young woman he's visiting in what turns out to be a hospital, after some unspoken incident, an accident we assume.

The early scenes trickle by in kind of a mannered, wannabe Coen brothers style. Jane is pretty manic. In what is presumably a flashback, he comes to his girlfriend's office to take her out for lunch – "But it's 4pm!" she protests. He answers her phone for her, dances with the coat rack, affects a British accent, that sort of thing. Crazy guy; what I mean is, annoying.

There's a kind of retro feel, too: the ever-present annoying jazz, how everyone seems to use typewriters, not just him, it doesn't seem to be an eccentricity.

Wait, is this one of those beat poet things? I tried to read On the Road once and didn't make it very far. Too loose and dull and directionless.

Yes, it turns out the script was based on a 1950 letter written by Neal Cassady to Jack Kerouac. Who the hell was Neal Cassady? I'd never heard of the bloke but, according to Wikipedia, he was "a major figure of the Beat Generation of the 1950s and the psychedelic and counterculture movements of the 1960s". The reason he was obscure to me was that "he published only two short fragments of prose in his lifetime, but exerted considerable intellectual and stylistic influence through his conversation and correspondence."

This movie is apparently based on some of that correspondence. Boy, those must have been some long letters. Thousands of words, apparently. So that makes this movie less like adapting a tax rebate from HMRC and more tackling a short story.

(Oh wait, the girlfriend, it wasn't an accident – I get it now! It was a suicide attempt, hence the title of the movie. Can't say I blame her, going out with this tool.)

The only thing to have come out of this beat generation business that does anything for me is David Cronenberg’s NAKED LUNCH. Actually, I remember going on to read William Burroughs' source novel, then possibly Junk as well, if I recall. Those were OK; totally bonkers, but interesting and lively.

But still, this kind of all-over-the-place, jittery, motormouth vibe is too much for me. THE LAST TIME I COMMITTED SUICIDE embraces this approach wholeheartedly, with the camera spinning around like it's manned by a hyperactive child, editing stuffed with jump cuts back and forth in time, and yet more of that bloody awful jazz. And Jane's performance: cigarette always in hand, talking to himself, reciting things he's hoping to write (but I guess never does?), absorbed in how witty, urbane and original he believes himself to be.

And the final thing that put me off was that this Neal Cassidy abandons his girlfriend in the hospital to go joyriding with a co-starring Keanu, Amy Smart and some other girl of high school age. Not cool, daddio ... or sport, or whatever it was these beat generation types called each other. 

That's about all I have to say about THE LAST TIME I COMMITTED SUICIDE. Just a few closing words now about two actors.

Adrien Brody wanders into the film at one point, presumably around the time he was auditioning for THE THIN RED LINE. And I started wishing I was watching that movie instead. Wait a sec, Jane was in THIN RED LINE, too! They probably ran through scenes together. And then, after it came out, consoled each other over shots of bourbon in a grimy bar, complaining about how they both ended up with less screen time than some limey who only lasted one season in the British sitcom Game On.

And what of Mr Reeves in this movie? Sad to say, but he sticks out, like he always does. He pops up as Neal's pool-playing pal and joins him in drinking and talking, then pausing to have another drink before talking some more.

Look, there's no doubts about Keanu being A Really Nice Guy. After all, everyone knows he lives out of a suitcase and donates all of his acting royalties to charity (citation needed).

But it's always him in a movie, no matter who he is ostensibly playing. In MUCH ADO ABOUT NOTHING, he's Keanu doing school play Shakespeare. In BRAM STOKER'S DRACULA, he's Keanu with a wobbly English accent. And in this, he's Keanu in the 1950s, yet still sounding like a laidback surfer dude.

But despite that, I was glad to see him. He at least made this dross tolerable. Just about.

Two stars out of five. 

 

Valid use of the word ‘last’?  I think Jane actually uses this oh-so-amusing phrase at one point? It was hard to pick up among the rest of the never-ending voiceover.

What would a movie called THE FIRST TIME I COMMITTED SUICIDE be like?  There would be less rambling, you'd expect, and hopefully no jazz. Unless they played it at the damned funeral.

 

Previously:  THE LAST BUS

Next time:  THE LAST SHARKNADO: IT’S ABOUT TIME

Check out my books:  Jonathanlastauthor.com