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system\nclassify the user's feedback by responding with only a single number: 1 for positive or 0 for negative
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user\nI like Steve Buscemi. I like his work very much, both as an actor and a director. You could say that I am -into- Steve Buscemi. A Steve Buscemi freak. I lurv Steve Buscemi.
I remember when I first saw Buscemi's full length directorial debut, \"Trees Lounge.\" I enjoyed the movie, although it wasn't as good as it could have been. It was -almost- there. It -almost- scratched that itch, the itch of wanting to see \"small\" movies about \"small\" people in \"small\" bars that are in \"small\" towns. It was close enough to where I would say that it was a very good movie - one that with a few tweaks could have been great. But that's OK. I like the movie and I've watched it more than once.
But this review is not about Trees Lounge. It's about \"Lonesome Jim.\" When I saw the description of the movie and then I saw who's movie it was, I was excited at the prospect of finally seeing the movie that I knew that Trees Lounge could have been. But what I actually experienced was not unlike that of leaving one of those smalltown bars with a belly full of cheap whiskey and an armful of cheap floozy, heading back to your apartment with a mushy brain full of exciting prospects that inevitably disintegrate into the reality of alcohol-induced impotence and headspinning regurgitation.
In other words, this movie left me flat and unrequited and sorry that I wasted the time and the money that it took me to get to that state - the film equivalent of waking up next to that cheap floozy the next morning, or if you happen to be the floozy, waking up next to that stinking and farting and unshaven imbecile. The film had all of the substance of a stale white bread sandwich (with store brand white bread, no less) and the emotion of a cadaver. I am not sure what the point of this film was, and since it was supposed to have some sort of a point and was not an exercise in abstract surrealism that can get by without one then this lack of a point is a sin of omission. Sorta like those new cars that don't come with ashtrays anymore although there are millions of people who smoke and buy new cars (I'm not one of them, but hey, I can sympathize). Overall it was a boring film about boring people doing boring things and had none of the grit and believability that can carry and save such a film. I mean, Trees Lounge was about boring people doing boring things, but it was interesting.
I blame a lot of this on Affleck. Why do people keep casting these Affleck turds? They suck the life out of anything that they are connected with. One Affleck was in one decent film (and wasn't even the reason why the film was decent) and all of the sudden every butthole named Affleck is stinking up as many films as they possibly can. And Liv Tyler is no better. Being the daughter of a rock star does not necessarily make an actress. She is as lifeless as Affleck. These people simply do not rise from the flat page of the script. People pay to see films and they deserve to see actors and actresses with a bit of charisma - these two duds together don't have the spark of the old guy who hands out shopping carts at Wal Mart. I always thought that Steve Buscemi was the type of guy who would rise above this type of pablum, but oh Steve you let us down. This film makes me want to stuff you into another wood chipper.
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