:: Who Is Cletis Tout?

Trevor Finch (Christian Slater) is a recently escaped convict who, at the beginning of this film, finds himself tied to a chair in a hotel room with Critical Jim (Tim Allen) pointing a gun at him. The premise of the film is one of mistaken identity; Jim is a hit man who believes Finch is Cletis Tout (his mark). Jim is (conveniently) an obsessive film fan who quotes films constantly. Consequently, he is sufficiently intrigued by Finch’s assertion that he has ‘a story’; he gives him 90 minutes to save his life by telling a good one.

What unfolds is a story about Finch escaping from prison with his friend Micah aka The Magician (Richard Dreyfuss), recovering stolen diamonds (via carrier pigeons) and falling in love with Micah’s daughter Tess (Portia de Rossi). All this while running away from the mob, which wrongly believe Finch to be Cletis Tout and repeatedly tries to kill him.

Presumably, the cast will ring alarm bells with cinema lovers unless they are big fans of The Santa Claus, Alley MacBeal or unfamiliar with Slater’s reputation for at best, patchy work. If this doesn’t raise suspicions then surely, the contrived, hackneyed premise should keep people away in droves. But if neither of these two elements dull well-meaning cinema patrons’ enthusiasm, then perhaps the following will.

Who is Cletis Tout? has the questionable honour of being one of the worst films this reviewer has ever had the misfortune to witness. It represents the apogee of Hollywood’s cynical, formulaic sentimentalism, the likes of which would make a Disney movie-of-the-week director blush. When watching the film, one has the sense that writer/director Chris ver Wiel had one of the numerous ‘how to write a script that sells’ books by his side. The screenplay is literally filling in the narrative dots: act one turning point – he’s escaped from prison, but now the mob is after him! The dots are shameless cliches and the lines that join them make you cringe.

Every set-up is utterly implausible and every pay-off painfully predictable. Dreyfuss makes a bearable fist of a ludicrous character; we can only assume that he is under great financial duress to have taken it on. De Rossi snivels and minces her way through an equally one-dimensional character and Slater is merely caricaturing himself as a way of staying awake until each shot finishes.

This film is on limited release for a reason. Even the heavily medicated will find this a challenging film to endure but if you don’t believe me, you can’t say that you weren’t warned.

Screening at Greater Union Cinemas