Brooklyn Cliches Simmer in Ham Juice in White Irish Drinkers
Shouldering a title thats redundant twice over, John Grays Noo Yawker indie is a stubborn throwback to the Sundance-fueled, ethnic-neighborhood movie of the early 90s, when every film-school grad with a fresh head full of Mean Streets decided he would be the next Scorsese. Here its Brooklyn, 1975, and one nice, artsy Leary brother (Nick Thurston) has to deal with the other, an Ill-smack-ya-fag petty crook (Geoffrey Wigdor), while both suffer their roaring Irish drunk dad (Avatar thundergod Stephen Lang). So, courtesy of Good Will Hunting, the misfit art kid struggles with maybe leaving his bloody-knuckle roots behind for higher education, a saucy neighborhood girl endures his advances, and his employer (Peter Riegert) connives to have the Rolling Stones (Who the fuck is Ron Wood?) play at his theater for one night. Even though Gray is no raw-boned rookiehe has made TV movies for decades, plus, back in the day, a single Steven Seagal floaterhis movie is rather inexcusably obvious, going for troot, but recycling dese-dose-dem clichés already pressed into plastic lumber 25 years ago. Langs presence, of course, adds a toxic gallon of ham juice to the pot, although in saying so, Im afraid hell come and hit me.
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