A Deep Cesspool of Creativity

I just saw Overnight, a documentary chronicling the unlikely rise and mundane fall of Troy Duffy, the filmmaker who made Boondock Saints. Rooting for the underdog is such an ingrained part of the American character -- hell, maybe it's human nature, I dunno -- that it's always worth noticing when you're not rooting against one. But Duffy, a bartender who sells his screenplay, gets a deal to direct it himself, as well as produce the soundtrack with his band, could certainly be portrayed as a rags-to-riches story.

At least he could if it were 1997, and that were the end of the movie, and not its beginning.

Instead, Duffy -- the biggest tool in the shed -- squanders his money, scuttles his deals, and drives away his friends. Or nearly does, but somehow they keep sticking with him, their eyes betraying something akin to Stockholm syndrome.

Of course, two of them--Tony Montana and Mark Brian Smith--got a compelling movie out of the deal.

And Tony, narcissist that he is, got to star in one.

Rob