Kicked in the Head | Chicago Reader

Kicked in the Head

Quentin Tarantino's groundbreaking work in persuading audiences that self-justifying criminals on drugs indulging in pointless circular conversations about popular culture are inherently interesting makes him indirectly responsible for this exhaustingly bad movie written by Kevin Corrigan and director Matthew Harrison. Corrigan also plays Redmond, a young guy trying to find himself, who participates in plenty of pseudoprofound chats when he isn't writing bad poetry to express his urban angst. His simple rhyming plaints, delivered in voice-over as he composes them in his journal, are clearly meant to be naively funny and stumblingly insightful—a combination that's supposed to equal irony. His uncle (James Woods), a scheming hood who seems to deliberately provoke the ire of better-connected criminals, drags Redmond into his messes. Redmond's best friend (Michael Rapaport) is a trigger-happy entrepreneur whose innumerable bullets amazingly—and meaninglessly—never seem to hit anyone. And Redmond's love interest (Linda Fiorentino) is an airline employee who engages him in linguistic gymnastics about whether she should be referred to as a stewardess or a flight attendant far longer than you'll be able to tolerate.

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