Overnight

Overnight (2003) 46 (Metacritic: 60)

Is Troy Duffy a metaphor for the 1990s? That may be a bit generous, but it certainly fits his the size of his id. But despite being a bad movie, Overnight offers some historical perspective regarding that period of time. More so than I can ever imagine it having at its release in 2003.

I’ve never seen Duffy’s Boondock Saints, the $15 million Harvey Weinstein spec script that made a transplanted Bostonian from West Hollywood bartender into an entertainment megalomaniac. But in this day and age, it’s amusing to look back at the first Dot Com boom and equate it with Harvey Weinstein’s egotistic jaunt through the end of Miramax 1.0. Americans were rich, and the money flowed freely to people and companies with no thought about who they were or what talent they had or what they could actually produce. For Duffy, the dream came crashing down somewhat, but at least he got his movie made. As for the rest of us, well…

As a “warts and all” revenge documentary, Overnight is ultimately fairly tame. Like an early version of Entourage, Duffy drags his friends into his new Hollywood oasis with him. And they totally buy into it. They’re his bandmates. They’re his drinking buddies. They’re his barmen. (Harvey bought his bar in the deal.) And they’re his documentarians. At least, I think Smith is/was his friend. Montana seems like a hired gun. But if the footage here is the worst they got of him on camera, all they’ve done is prove that he’s an asshole, which is hardly a groundbreaking True Hollywood Story. And so what? He paid their bills. All they could come up with is a disjointed hatchet job that probably would have been better if, like Harvey, they had given Duffy final cut. I think when Duffy essentially fires the pair from filming his life, he yells at them that they suck. It’s clear from the final product that Duffy’s right.

So, aside from signing a $15 million deal to write and direct his first ever film project (think about that in 2009 terms), Duffy is allowed to score the soundtrack with his band, which includes his brother (and we all know how well bands and brothers go together). It’s not half-bad post-grunge rock, and Duffy’s an able guitarist. But the top-selling records of 1997, 1998, and 1999 were from the Spice Girls, the Titanic soundtrack, and the Backstreet Boys. As we all remember, it wasn’t a good time for mainstream rock and roll.

Yes, I get it. Troy Duffy is a big jerk. But who’s laughing now? Harvey’s nearly out of the movie business. His Miramax brand, which he sold to Disney, is essentially dead. Messrs. Montana and Smith have four combined other credits to their IMDB names. But several months ago, I saw a trailer for Boondock Saints II: Boondock Harder. In his own way, Duffy is kind of Web 2.0; back again for another go-round, while the forces that created his rise are lying in ashes.