The Usual Suspects
Can someone tell me why I’m supposed to guffaw and applaud every time this fucking movie comes on? Look, for the first 102 minutes or so, sure, it’s a pretty great movie. Strong acting, solid dialogue, good story. I mean, anything that’s got Stephen Baldwin in it and doesn’t make me want to punch myself and/or Hollywood square in the nuts deserves some sort of pass. But all of sudden, in those last 3 minutes, it turns into an absolute shitfest. Why?
Because Kevin Spacey isn’t fucking crippled, that’s why!
Yes, I get it. He’s a criminal mastermind — he is Keyser Soze. What’s more, he managed to string along Chazz Palminteri and the rest of his department by creating a ficticious tale based on the headlines, images, and — gulp — coffee cups in Palminteri’s office. Even that I can accept to an extent. But watching Spacey walk out of the police station, ditch the limp, and “transform” into good ol’ “Keyser Soze: Non-Cripple” was unforgivingly ridiculous. You know who else utilized endings like this? These guys:
“Revin Racey’s Keyser Roze?! Ruh-roh!”
And by the way, Chazz Palminteri: Chazz? Really? Look, I understand it’s a nickname for “Charles,” and in your case maybe it really is your given name. Either way, there’s this thing among Hollywood actors where they more often than not change their given names. They use what are called “screen names” or pseudonyms. So, if Chazz is actually your given name, I encourage you to change it. If Chazz was not, in fact, your given name and is, instead, the one you settled on, may you die a slow, miserable death. Let me show you something, Chazz:
- Chazz Dickens
- Chazz Darwin
- Chazz the Great
- King Chazz I
You see what I’m getting at here, Chazz? Frankly, your name makes you sound like a dick. And by the way, are you still acting? Are you dead? Fame’s not been so good to you. Amazing how 15 minutes just seems to fly by, no?
Chazz Darwin thinks “we evolved from monkeys and shit, yo!”
Look, I know everyone — everyone — I talk to about this movie thinks I’m off my rocker. Well, everyone, to you I say, “Good day.” Sorry, but I like movies that don’t go out of their way to trick me for two hours before revealing the big “gotcha” moment at the end. If that’s all I wanted, I’d go watch an M. Night Shyamalanadingdong movie. Any of them. (Well, except for The Happening, which I still refuse to watch on principle alone. Mark Wahlberg’s worse than rectal bleeding.)
All in all, it’s a shame. The Usual Suspects does a pretty outstanding job of developing an intricate story only to fuck the whole thing up with a cheap gimmick at film’s end. “The greatest trick the Devil ever pulled was convincing the world he didn’t exist,” says Spacey/Verbal/Soze to my good pal Chazz. Really? I could’ve sworn his greatest trick was convincing the world The Usual Suspects is a brilliant film.
Well, that’ll do it for this time. So until letter “V” wraps its skinny fingers around your neck, have at it, you vultures!