The Informers

Do some blow. Curse humanity. Convert to nilhilism. Reread American Psycho. But don't for the love of God and cinema see The Informers. One of the worst movies of this or any year, The Informers is a complete misreading of the collection of linked short stories by Bret Easton Ellis, which is odd since Ellis wrote the script with Nicholas Jarecki.

(Watch Peter Travers' video review of The Informers.)

Published in 1994, the book sent up the beautiful bottomfeeding Los Angelenos of the 1980s with Ellis' trademarked twist of menacing wit. The movie, directed by Aussie Gregor Jordan (Ned Kelly), is entirely witless. I've read some reviews that dismiss The Informers as lurid trash. Ha! I would have loved me some lurid trash. This is limp-dick moralism, squinting sternly as the AIDS era crowds out hedonism. For ton-weight symbolism, a hot pool boy fishes a rat out of the chlorine. Really? Really! This misbegotten movie drags down actors good (Mickey Rourke, Kim Basinger, Billy Bob Thornton) and godawful (Amber Heard, Jon Foster, Mel Raido). And they left out the juicy vampire story. No sweat. The movie sucks plenty.

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