If "Home Alone" was rated R, then it would play out like "Becky," a new home-invasion thriller about bad guys after a little kid. Of course, the bad guy here are neo-Nazis and the little kid is a teen girl who brutally murders them. Does it work? Does it matter?
It does work, and no, it doesn't matter. But it just barely works, held together by solid performances and it's gusto. It goes for the jugular and then just rips it straight off; this is a very brutal movie, exploiting the inherit shock-value of having a young kid slice-and-dicing people up. All the bloody detail is shown in full, as the camera lusts over the gore, so you the viewer has time to notice the little details, like how the neck bleeds out as a broken ruler is shoved clean through random henchmen #1.
Another area of effective manipulation is the stunt-casting of Kevin James as Dominick, the leader of this miserable band of misfits. In his career's first dramatic role, he is more than up for the challenge, losing his trademark grin and pratfalling. He underplays the character, at least initially, as if knowing the audience would need time to adjust to this role-reversal; by the end, he is- well, no spoilers there, though you won't be surprised once it happens.
What is Dominick and his goons looking for? They're looking for a special key, which was hidden in the lake house Becky (Lulu Wilson) and her broken family are staying at. How the key got there, why it is there, or what it does are never answered. Neither is how the convicts escape prison, but I suppose "Home Alone," the main inspiration, also had plot holes big enough to fit another movie in. (Let's just hope the sequel isn't "Becky 2: Lost in New York.)
But what's the point of all this? Films sometimes strive to make you feel something, to stimulate some emotion. Other times they try to make a point. Other times, they're just trying to entertain, which is, I imagine, the genesis to "Becky." It does entertain, moving at a fast-pace without a lull in its lean ninety three minute runtime. And my eyes were glued at the violence, me leaning forward not wanting to miss just what new line the picture was willing to cross. But everything left me as soon as the credits rolled, leaving no impact aside from a strong urge to watch "Paul Blart: Mall Cop."
What is Dominick and his goons looking for? They're looking for a special key, which was hidden in the lake house Becky (Lulu Wilson) and her broken family are staying at. How the key got there, why it is there, or what it does are never answered. Neither is how the convicts escape prison, but I suppose "Home Alone," the main inspiration, also had plot holes big enough to fit another movie in. (Let's just hope the sequel isn't "Becky 2: Lost in New York.)
But what's the point of all this? Films sometimes strive to make you feel something, to stimulate some emotion. Other times they try to make a point. Other times, they're just trying to entertain, which is, I imagine, the genesis to "Becky." It does entertain, moving at a fast-pace without a lull in its lean ninety three minute runtime. And my eyes were glued at the violence, me leaning forward not wanting to miss just what new line the picture was willing to cross. But everything left me as soon as the credits rolled, leaving no impact aside from a strong urge to watch "Paul Blart: Mall Cop."
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