Freddy Got Fingered is a meandering, largely plotless tale that is about nothing so much as Tom Green's annoying mugging. This alone would not condemn it to it's hard-won title of "Worst Film Ever Foisted Upon The American Public By Any Entity, Human Or Demonic, In The History Of Cinema," were it not for the horrendous, nearly unwatchable "comedy" bits that plague this episodic yarn.
Comedy: this usually means "something funny." In the hands of Writer/Director/Star/Terrorist Tom Green, "comedy" has been re-defined to include the following: a man eating cheese sandwiches while watching a horse ejaculate; a man licking the exposed bone on his friend's compound fracture of the tibia; a man using the umbilical cord to twirl a new-born baby above his head; false allegations of child sexual molestation; a person being dragged to death behind a car; a man coating himself in deer innards; a man masturbating an elephant.
The above list of atrocities is not only what passes for comedy in this film, it also takes the place of a plot. Really, how much time is there for a cohesive story when you've got such disparate species as elephants and horses ejaculating for our amusement?
Which brings me to the big question about Freddy Got Fingered: Was this supposed to be entertaining? I cringed throughout the film. I kept thinking, "It can't get any worse than this!" And it didn't. It couldn't, because it was already as bad as it could be. But it stayed that bad for its entire length. I was shocked when I left the theater and found that only ninety minutes had passed. It seemed more like, I don't know, how long does it take to melt a diamond with a stare?
I'd like to meet the person who is entertained by this film. Well, not so much "meet" as "read an anthropological study of." As I understand it, an audience of cave dwelling troglodytes test-screened this film and described it as "insipid." Freddy Got Fingered makes the Farrelly Brothers seem sophisticated and urbane. Calling it a "film" does a disservice to such pieces of cinema as I Spit On Your Grave and Blood Sucking Freaks.
Really, truly: the horror, the horror. Ok, let's say this film has a story. If so, it's something like this: Tom Green plays Gordon, whose dad is not proud of him. So Gordon spends the movie wishing his dad were proud of him. Well, that and beating his disabled girlfriend and running over a young boy and telling a woman her friend is dead so he can ask her on a date and urging his mother to have sex with "basketball players and Greek men." See, Gordon is the hero of the film.
Meanwhile, his father, who, I guess, is the villain, is working hard to support Gordon. In return, Gordon falsely accuses dad of sexually abusing the titular Freddy, who is Gordon's younger brother. As a result, Freddy is institutionalized and Dad is stigmatized and divorced by his wife. Go Gordon! You rule!
Then Gordon returns to beating his disabled girlfriend, and also destroying a Pakistani marketplace and the homes of several dozen Pakistanis, you know, to impress his dad. Does it work? Well, of course! It's a movie! Dad will always wind up being proud of his non-conformist (or "dangerously unbalanced") son in the end.
But who cares about the hackneyed plot. It occupies very little of this film. What we should care about is that actual human beings are being subjected to this movie. This is wrong! It's so typical of Amnesty International that they'll start a letter writing campaign any time some impoverished African pacifist is imprisoned and tortured, but they'll do nothing to stop the distribution of a film like Freddy Got Fingered. And what about Joe Lieberman, that most detestable of hypocrites, who tries to stop young children from seeing great works of art like Taxi Driver and Midnight Cowboy, but is too much of a wussy-ass pansy-boy to strap a bomb to his chest and blow up every last copy of Freddy God Fingered, selflessly ending his own worthless life in the process?
Well, until our elected officials actually provide the kind of paternalistic protection to which they pretend, the cinemas of America will be like minefields, where every tolerably awful Sandra Bullock picture is projected perilously close to this kind of abomination. I hope someone can put a stop to this; Freddy Got Fingered is far too awful to appear in our local theaters, and should be confined to museums and universities where it can be properly studied by people with appropriate academic backgrounds. Who knows, perhaps their research will discern that it's the first great work of art of the 21st century. Until that happens, though, we must do whatever we can to protect our women and our servants from encountering this atrocity.