God almighty, what is this royal puke stain of celluloid? If you thought the French were notorious for long-winded tales peppered with shallow existentialist talk and imagery, "Boxing Helena" proves that Americans (lucky daughters of well-loved directors included) can do it just as horribly. Julian Sands plays Nick, a neurotic, sexually dysfunctional doctor who is smitten with the bitchy Helena (Sherilyn Fenn); Helena wants nothing to do with Nick; Helena gets in a freak accident, loses both her legs, and Nick imprisons her in his lonely mansion. This sounds like a great setup for a meditation on the nature of obsession, but the characters change so little from their miserable, cloying, and/or unlikable selves (save for passages of inexplicable, out-of-character behavior) that the film becomes an overstated, one-note gag that isn't funny. While Sands is indeed grating as the well-intentioned drip of a doctor, it is Fenn who sits at the crux of "Boxing Helena"'s paradox: why would anyone want to preserve someone so beautiful on the outside but completely rotten on the inside? Personally, I was waiting for Sands to amputate her head so the movie could finally be over...
Review of Boxing Helena
