In Kevin Trent's "Crash Pad", Domhnall Gleeson has to try harder than usual to convince us that his character Stensland is actually a likeable one. He thus delivers - at times in near-theatrical style - great dollops of Jeremy Catalino's lines of significant wordy philosophical and mostly world-weary content, albeit liberally sprinkled with the foulest of four-letter words - at least two a sentence.
Why is that so?
Actually, Stensland is indeed quite innocent, as he was more or less picked up by Christina Applegate's Morgan, who only later reveals to him that she is (actually quite firmly) wedded to husband Grady (played by Thomas Haden Church).
For entirely obscure reasons, Grady decides that his best "punishment" for both lovers simultaneously is for him to leave her and their plush house and crash in with Stensland in all his squalor, before embarking with him on a spree of socialising in which morality is largely dispensed with for the duration. In this central core of the film, words to describe the female anatomy become the new normal for the dialogue (alongside swear words), though there is scarcely a reference that does not see these parts solely as receptacles awaiting the arrival of a horny male.
Quite offputtingly, Grady is continually unable to decide whether he is mentor, father figure, punisher or best pal of Stensland, who is obviously at least half a generation younger, but is ... or in reality is not ... the more prudish and restrained of the two.
But why should we care, anyway?
Lionisation of drinking and soft-drug use also takes centre-stage, if ironically being condemned strongly at one point by words from Gleeson's own mouth, recalling that these activities once conceivably seen as routes to happiness are now ends in and of themselves, and by no means tend to bring any real joy whatsoever. After a moment of stunned silence, the party hearing these inspiring words decides that the appropriate response is to make Stensland drink more alcohol (twice) from the boot of a hobo!
Weirdly, about two-thirds into this crude mess, a switch is suddenly thrown and classic American sentimentality makes itself felt, for no very good reason whatever, and certainly with not a hint of logic or cohesion vis-a-vis what has gone before.
Only very rarely does any of this actually achieve the apparent goal of the movie and induce laughter, or even a wry smile.
Why is that so?
Actually, Stensland is indeed quite innocent, as he was more or less picked up by Christina Applegate's Morgan, who only later reveals to him that she is (actually quite firmly) wedded to husband Grady (played by Thomas Haden Church).
For entirely obscure reasons, Grady decides that his best "punishment" for both lovers simultaneously is for him to leave her and their plush house and crash in with Stensland in all his squalor, before embarking with him on a spree of socialising in which morality is largely dispensed with for the duration. In this central core of the film, words to describe the female anatomy become the new normal for the dialogue (alongside swear words), though there is scarcely a reference that does not see these parts solely as receptacles awaiting the arrival of a horny male.
Quite offputtingly, Grady is continually unable to decide whether he is mentor, father figure, punisher or best pal of Stensland, who is obviously at least half a generation younger, but is ... or in reality is not ... the more prudish and restrained of the two.
But why should we care, anyway?
Lionisation of drinking and soft-drug use also takes centre-stage, if ironically being condemned strongly at one point by words from Gleeson's own mouth, recalling that these activities once conceivably seen as routes to happiness are now ends in and of themselves, and by no means tend to bring any real joy whatsoever. After a moment of stunned silence, the party hearing these inspiring words decides that the appropriate response is to make Stensland drink more alcohol (twice) from the boot of a hobo!
Weirdly, about two-thirds into this crude mess, a switch is suddenly thrown and classic American sentimentality makes itself felt, for no very good reason whatever, and certainly with not a hint of logic or cohesion vis-a-vis what has gone before.
Only very rarely does any of this actually achieve the apparent goal of the movie and induce laughter, or even a wry smile.