“Dick Baby” bills itself as a “rock ‘n’ roll odyssey” and features music by Dan Rockett and Rockett Band. Mr. Rockett, who plays Ben in the movie, fits the role of a rocker, too, with his long hair dashingly pulled back into a pony tail, shorts, bare feet, soulful eyes and a voice that seems right at home in a band like Creed. His movie partner in crime, Max (Jhon Doria), definitely is not a rockstar. He has psycho eyes, which bring to mind Hannibal Lecter in “The Silence of the Lambs,” and an expression that warns others that something isn’t right upstairs. And then there is the story.
Writer/director Mike Brand doesn’t bother using the traditional narrative elements that bog down today’s movies. No, Brand takes a non-linear route that eschews plot and makes the seemingly implausible play like a mushroom-induced fantasy via Dali. He also seems to leave his actors without any kind of serious direction, producing some of the most interesting character reads (especially in the form of Repoman played by Mike McCafferty) to grace film in quite some time.
If you realized that the beginning part of this review was dripping in sarcasm and backhanded compliments, you’re probably two steps ahead of the people responsible for this putrid pile of brain rot. Never before have I seen a movie this disjointed and haphazard in execution, and I’ve seen “Killers From Space,” which, by the way, made far more sense than this cancer cluster.
First peeve: If you are making a “rock ‘n’ roll odyssey” (whatever that means), shouldn’t the soundtrack be “rock ‘n’ roll?” Dan Rockett and Rockett Band (a name as original as Night Ranger) play boring bar folk that makes Hootie and the Blowfish seem like Motorhead. Strumming on an acoustic guitar does not equal rock. It never will. Strike one.
Strike two comes when one tries to figure out the movie’s story. About halfway through this misfired prank of a film, I realized that Brand didn’t bother writing one, so I stopped trying to make sense of it (it does seem to involve a murderous father and his son, though). If Brand isn’t going to try, why should I? Instead of a plot, one gets characters who appear out of nowhere, spiritual visions and pointless flashbacks (and I’m not a hundred percent sure they even are flashbacks). There isn’t a solid story here, and these “plot devices” only highlight that. Brand needs to leave the writing to someone who can actually string together some thoughts that make sense … or he needs an editor with the patience of a serial killer.
Brand doesn’t bear the total weight of this mind-numbing failure, however. The actors have a small role to play in the disaster. Their characters are utter nothings (which is Brand’s fault), but the actors portraying them don’t even try to do anything with them. The only one who even comes close to fleshing out his character is Doria. Honestly, though, how hard is it to play a lunatic with a crazy smile? Yawn. Strike three. You are out of here.
A story that doesn’t even seem to matter to the writer. Cardboard characters. Dinner theatre acting … as performed by children with ADD. Music by a whitebread college poet. This is “Dick Baby,” the film which earns my award for The Worst Movie I’ve Currently Seen That Makes Me Want To Gouge Out My Eyes So That I Never See Anything Like It Again.
God, what made these morons think their experiment in garbage was worth watching?
