Freddy Got Fingered. The Rest of Us Were Fisted.

23 05 2012

Kirk Lazarus’ musings on going “full retard” were way off base, and they were proven wrong a full seven years before Tropic Thunder.  Because if Tom Green’s directorial debut, Freddy Got Fingered, has a worthwhile takeaway it’s that mimicking even a fraction of a mental disability is no guarantee for success.  Or sanity.

While the film’s title has little relevance to the story — referencing a false accusation from Gord Brody (Green) that his father (Rip Torn) molested Gord’s younger brother, Freddy (Eddie Kaye Thomas) — one could argue it represents the inherent struggle between a son and a desire for the acceptance of his troubled, abusive, and oddly homophobic father.   I mean, that’s only if you really wanted to overanalyze this thing.  When not featuring Green stroking off farm animals (we’ll get to that), the threadbare plot tracks Gord as he travels to Hollywood to become a famous cartoonist.  When an entertainment hotshot (Anthony Michael Hall) tells Gord his idea — the loosely autobiographical “Zebras in America” — is really fucking stupid, he retreats back to his parents in Portland suburbia and proceeds to engage in an additional 70 minutes of really fucking stupid ideas.  Naturally.

No, I have no idea how much acid it would take to enjoy this.

Much of Freddy Got Fingered‘s “humor” showcases Green thrusting a number of body parts into various crevices that his shovel-faced lackwit of a main character happens to stumble over.  For the curious, it takes no longer than ten minutes to get a glimpse of Green buffing a stallion’s barntackle.  When Green isn’t disemboweling and then stuffing himself inside the finest road kill the Pacific Northwest has to offer, the film functions as a loose string of nonsensical ad libs, spontaneous excuses for the poorest of jokes that immediately fall flat and then proceed to drag out for another full minute.  It’s very much a “salt in the wound” experience, only the salt is a handle of Everclear and the wound is from a shotgun blast to the head.  Maybe even a self-inflicted one.

At some point in his life, someone said to Tom Green “Just be yourself.” Here’s to hoping that person died a painful, painful death.

I’m sure that deep inside an hour and a half’s worth of unfiltered toddler id lies an uplifting message about self-discovery and the preservation of self that comes with caning a paraplegic woman to the point of sexual climax.  Unfortunately, Tom Green’s first and only feature length release prematurely ejaculates into the hallowed womb of directors who are just given too much creative control over personal projects.  Whether this is closer to Tommy Wiseau’s The Room or Frank Miller’s The Spirit, it’s clear that Tom Green needs to be kept on a leash, preferably one with a muzzle.  None of which is to say Freddy Got Fingered has no place in pop culture — quite the contrary.  It triumphantly rests somewhere between “Chocolate Rain” and the video where that guy shatters a glass jar inside his rectum.  On second thought, just watch both of those and we’re good here.

Notable Quotables:

– “Look honey, our boy’s a genius!  He’s rigged a pulley system so he can eat sausage and work on his stupid drawings.”

– “You can’t hurt me, not with my cheese helmet!”

– “But Gord, I don’t care about jewels.  I just want to suck your cock.”




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