In 1996, James Foley directed a movie called "Fear." If there is any irony to be found in that title, it may very well be in that Mr. Foley would have had reason to be concerned about his career after making this mindless, overproduced piece of garbage. Five years earlier, now-famous Reese Witherspoon made her debut in a wonderful movie called "The Man in the Moon." In both that film and this one, she played a teenager troubled by her crush on a boy. Except in that much-superior film, it was because her crush was three years older than her and he was smitten by her sister. In this film, it's because he's a sex-addicted psychopath who won't leave her be.
"Fear" could be described as an adolescent version of "Fatal Attraction." But there is a difference. Up until its last ten minutes, "Fatal Attraction" was a splendid thriller as well as an insightful one. It had a sharp, shrewd knowledge about marital affairs. Hence why Glenn Close still claims to this day that her performance stopped several men from cheating on their wives. That movie did lose its mind in its big climactic ending, but "Fear" is a movie born without a mind. And if you thought the ending to "Fatal Attraction" was ludicrous, wait until you get a load of what happens here.
One of the core faults of the picture is lack of a demanding villain. I've had mixed feelings about Mark Wahlberg before, but this could be his worst performance. As the stalking boyfriend with a household of hoods, he's about as frightening as the stone lions in front of a library. There are two sides to Mr. Wahlberg's performance, one worse than the other. When his character goes psychotic at the end, it's just limp ham-acting. But he's worse at the beginning, when he's pretending to be a nice guy just by speaking softly and hanging his eyelids as if he had insomnia. But I guess Mr. Wahlberg, who can act when given a worthy screenplay, cannot be fully blamed here. For I doubt this material could have been handled well by any actor, young or old. Because I was not the least bit intimidated or frightened by him, I saw no reason why Miss Witherspoon, or her parents or friends, would be, either.
However, the worst sin the movie commits is insincerity. It is tackling a very topical and relevant collection of subject matter: underage sex, early-age affection, the tough times between parents and children at that crucial age of sixteen. But instead of offering insight about these tough times--that everyone of us can relate to in one way or another--it just pushes those opportunities aside in favor of over-the-top exploitation. Take, for example, the denouement of the picture. Instead of going for a plausible conclusion, the movie goes into a cheesy monster-on-the-loose formula, which very well have been a parody of "Night of the Living Dead." This is the sort of film where four teenage boys have been granted special powers like second lives and super-human strength. They apparently also become master electricians and know more about architecture than the designer of a maximum security system. How do they acquire this vast array of skills? By doing drugs, raping high school girls, and playing lots of pool. I don't buy it.
The movie is so unconsciously bad that it is always racing ahead of itself. Even a scene such as a jogger running through some woods (not chased by a bad guy, by the way) is accompanied by whooshing camera motions and a soundtrack so noisy that it would make the world's most obnoxious rock band ask for a little quiet time. I suppose if there was any good intentions from the makers of the movie, it would have been along the lines of Larry Clark's "Kids" released a year before. But whereas that film had a purpose, "Fear" just pretends to have a purpose.
"Fear" could be described as an adolescent version of "Fatal Attraction." But there is a difference. Up until its last ten minutes, "Fatal Attraction" was a splendid thriller as well as an insightful one. It had a sharp, shrewd knowledge about marital affairs. Hence why Glenn Close still claims to this day that her performance stopped several men from cheating on their wives. That movie did lose its mind in its big climactic ending, but "Fear" is a movie born without a mind. And if you thought the ending to "Fatal Attraction" was ludicrous, wait until you get a load of what happens here.
One of the core faults of the picture is lack of a demanding villain. I've had mixed feelings about Mark Wahlberg before, but this could be his worst performance. As the stalking boyfriend with a household of hoods, he's about as frightening as the stone lions in front of a library. There are two sides to Mr. Wahlberg's performance, one worse than the other. When his character goes psychotic at the end, it's just limp ham-acting. But he's worse at the beginning, when he's pretending to be a nice guy just by speaking softly and hanging his eyelids as if he had insomnia. But I guess Mr. Wahlberg, who can act when given a worthy screenplay, cannot be fully blamed here. For I doubt this material could have been handled well by any actor, young or old. Because I was not the least bit intimidated or frightened by him, I saw no reason why Miss Witherspoon, or her parents or friends, would be, either.
However, the worst sin the movie commits is insincerity. It is tackling a very topical and relevant collection of subject matter: underage sex, early-age affection, the tough times between parents and children at that crucial age of sixteen. But instead of offering insight about these tough times--that everyone of us can relate to in one way or another--it just pushes those opportunities aside in favor of over-the-top exploitation. Take, for example, the denouement of the picture. Instead of going for a plausible conclusion, the movie goes into a cheesy monster-on-the-loose formula, which very well have been a parody of "Night of the Living Dead." This is the sort of film where four teenage boys have been granted special powers like second lives and super-human strength. They apparently also become master electricians and know more about architecture than the designer of a maximum security system. How do they acquire this vast array of skills? By doing drugs, raping high school girls, and playing lots of pool. I don't buy it.
The movie is so unconsciously bad that it is always racing ahead of itself. Even a scene such as a jogger running through some woods (not chased by a bad guy, by the way) is accompanied by whooshing camera motions and a soundtrack so noisy that it would make the world's most obnoxious rock band ask for a little quiet time. I suppose if there was any good intentions from the makers of the movie, it would have been along the lines of Larry Clark's "Kids" released a year before. But whereas that film had a purpose, "Fear" just pretends to have a purpose.