Boogie Boy begins with the kind of idea that could either descend into mindless violence or squishy feel-good moralising. Instead, it does neither, prefering to sit on the fence the entire duration. It's a shame that someone along the line didn't take a chance and make a film that might have been *shock, horror* CONTROVERSIAL. The relationship between the two main characters is never more than hinted at, they always introduce each other as "friends" and as they progress along the path to "Clean Living", "A Fresh Start" etc etc they encounter similarly confused characters. View Hester, Emily Llyod's ditzy hair-twirling rip-off of Juliette Lewis in Kalifornia. When Hesters true colours show, and she turns into the hard, greedy bitch trying to run out with her nondescript husbands' winnings from a bet, she doesn't quite manage to give it the manipulativeness that I feel is trying to come across. She isn't quite nasty enough to have you believe in the change. But which one's the real her!? Actually, returning to Kalifornia, the fine road-movie serial killer tale of David Duchovny and his snobby girlfriend, the whole idea of the motel seems to have been lifted wholesale. A few tweaks here and there, but nonetheless the feeling is that empty wasteland, no way back kind of vibe that was one of the strongest atmospheres in Kalifornia. Maybe it's unfair to compare the two, but Boogie Boy seems to be all frills and no substance... something under the surface isn't quite sincere enough, not quite substantial enough to ring true. Unconvincing, Bland, the worst flaw is the characterisation. A fair enough film with some good ideas, nothing stunning. Watch it if there's nothing else
