Misunderstood Masterpieces: Lets Go to Prison
Posted by Will Helm on 06.26.2007
or, Lets Just Stay Home Instead. Please.
(Note: Sorry for the delay. I was going to try and crank out this column before my vacation as chronicled in The Daily 411 but I didn't feel I'd give it my best effort. So, after a week's recharge, I'm back and as good as ever . . . which may not be the best thing. Time will tell.)
In the American criminal justice system, there are three distinct levels: investigation, prosecution, and incarceration. While the television program Law & Order and all of its many permutations covers the first two elements (as well as Super Fuzz and Trial and Error respectively), the third bit often exists on its own, separated from its companions for reasons perhaps too extreme to recount. For this very reason, incarceration has been dramatized on cable-television programs (Oz . . . which, oddly enough, featured more than a few "cross-over" actors with Law & Order), well-regarded pictures (Cool Hand Luke), and exploitation films (Caged Heat).
One of the few genres to avoid touching on the incarceration aspect of American justice is comedy . . . until 2006. Just last year, a heavily advertised comedy was released to theaters and a high amount of marketing can only mean it's good, right? and, evidently, the American public just wasn't ready for a hilarious send up of life behind bars. Otherwise, the film wouldn't have grossed less than $5,000,000. Oops. And just what is this mysterious picture? The ill-fated Will Arnett vehicle Let's Go to Prison, that's what. Arnett, most well known at the time as the awesome erstwhile magician G.O.B. Bluth on Arrested Development, joined with Punk'd alum and co-star of Without a Paddle Dax Shepard for this farcical flick penned by alumni of The State (Thomas Lennon, Robert Ben Garant, and Michael Patrick Jann, specifically) and directed by Bob Odenkirk, of The Ben Stiller Show and Mr. Show with Bob and David fame. And yet, with a hilarious pedigree such as this and an alarming track record of failed television shows Let's Go to Prison may very well be relegated to the status of Misunderstood Masterpiece. Should it? Let's find out!
At the beginning of the film, perhaps as a disclaimer, a cop speaks directly to me and me alone; other viewers are out of luck and explains that this film is, for lack of a better term, "keepin' it real." The cop also states, shockingly, that in his opinion the film sucks and it also causes violent flatulence. Umm . . . yeah. Way to get my hopes up, movie! And now I have to pause the DVD, go out, and get some Gas-X too. Perhaps my misgivings are unwarranted as it turns out that the disclaimer isn't actually part of the film; perhaps, instead, just a vestige of the "unrated" nature of the DVD.
Finally, the film begins proper and the opening credits demonstrate that American people go to prison . . . a lot. And this is even before Paris Hilton's recent follies. I've heard that prisons are "hot." Anyway, after the movie shows that even famous people go to jail, career criminal John Lyshitski (Shepard) recounts statistics regarding the number of incarcerated individuals in the United States . . . and the remarkable amount of anal rape going on as well. Methinks that might be directly proportional, but I'm not sure. Nor do I want to investigate and find out. Anyway, Lyshitski then provides a biographical monologue revealing that his life as a habitual perpetrator began at age eight and, in a bizarre series of coincidences, the same judge kept locking him up over and over again and poking fun at him all the while. Now, I don't know much about jurisprudence, but shouldn't that be grounds for a mistrial?
After his latest stint in the pokey, Lyshitski wants nothing more than REVENGE on the judge that made his life a sad mockery. Dum-dum-DUM! Unfortunately for Lyshitski, evidently karma got REVENGE on the judge first as he seems to have passed away not long before Lyshitski's most recent taste of freedom. After learning the news and shooting the messenger . . . I mean "pay phone," Lyshitski consoles himself inside a lackluster strip club for no particular or funny reason. His presence and the dancers' apathy ends up being rewarded by serendipity as he learns that the judge has a son, Nelson Biederman IV (Arnett). With the elder Biederman pushing up daisies, Lyshitski, like a Biblical plague, turns his rage to the judge's first born son, making Nelson the target for his REVENGE!
At a charity function somewhere in Chicago, Nelson screams at his assistant over his mobile phone and then he gives a rambling speech dedicating an ugly Yoko Ono sculpture in the middle of a ghetto park. Yeah, he's a winner. While Nelson bores the gathered throng with his bizarre, self-aggrandizing statements, Lyshitski breaks into his car and wreaks a handful of elementary-school havoc. Ooh . . . spit in the latte! That's some REVENGE! After the speech, Lyshitski lies in wait to see the aftermath of his skullduggery while Nelson drinks his adulterated latte or maybe it's a macchiato, berates the board of trustees of his charity, and sings along to Technotronic.
Somehow, the haunting strains of "Move This" cause Nelson to have an asthma attack and he reaches for his convenient inhaler . . . which is unfortunately empty due to Lyshitski's REVENGE! In order to calm his inflamed lungs, Nelson hightails it to a local drugstore and, once there, he stumbles through the establishment and commandeers an inhaler behind the pharmacy counter. Nelson's emergency doesn't go unnoticed, though, as the kindly, reactionary Asian owners freak out and shoot at him as they believe they're being robbed. Eh, that happens all the time, I'm sure. Crazy white people with asthma are frightening!
From jail, Nelson calls his board desiring a quick release from incarceration but, outside of his purview, they vote to keep him in prison. To that end, in court, Nelson tries to sweet talk the recalcitrant judge (Amy Hill), who isn't very responsive to his entreaties for leniency. Meanwhile, Lyshitski watches from the audience while dressed as the Unibomber and helpfully explains that jurors are traditionally some of the dumbest people on Earth . . . specifically because they couldn't get out of jury duty. In addition to the comically moronic jurors, Nelson's defense provided by the charity's board also botches the case which, in any other universe, would also be grounds for a mistrial, I believe; maybe Nelson should've hired Michael Richards instead. Unsurprisingly, with such incompetence surrounding him, Nelson is found guilty and sentenced to three-to-five years in the state penitentiary . . . for stealing an inhaler in a asthma-attack-induced haze. Methinks there's a touch of exaggeration going on here.
While Nelson is put away, Lyshitski finds little solace in his scheme for VENGEANCE as he doesn't have the opportunity to revel in his success. In order to get a little closer to Nelson's situation and see his handiwork firsthand, Lyshitski smokes up and gets himself arrested for dealing marijuana. In front of the same judge who sentenced Nelson, Lyshitski plea bargains his way into a sentence identical to Nelson's . . . and at the same prison as well. It seems Lyshitski wants to enact his full REVENGE personally. But first, Lyshitski gets to know his quarry on the bus to prison and they "bond" over common complaints about antisocial gang members. And here I always thought gang members would be more welcoming of potential recruits.
At the prison, the warden (Dylan Baker) has prisoners beaten for fun because he has a wry "sense of humor." Which I suppose is prison-speak for a sadistic streak. The warden also shuns complaints not that the prisoners have many grounds to vent their concerns. Later in the day, as the new prisoners are assigned to their cells, Lyshitski bribes his way into Nelson's cell and is amused as, once there, Nelson has an unsurprising nervous breakdown. Lyshitski, not wanting to take REVENGE on a weakened foe, tells Nelson to man up and becomes his prison sensei as well. While Nelson starts to realize that life in jail is boredom and monotony, Lyshitski confirms his assumptions with a pep talk . . . and then he reads his mail.
Nelson's next lesson on life in the pen comes at lunch, when Lyshitski points out the meth-dealing white supremacists and helpfully informs Nelson that they rule the roost in the prison. Unfortunately, Lyshitski forgets whether intentionally or not to tell Nelson not to "narc" on a fellow prisoner when the head of the white supremacists (Michael Shannon) shanks another prisoner and Nelson fingers him. And I mean "fingers" in the figurative sense. Not the literal sense. Yet . . . pretty much because the next place Nelson and Lyshitski find themselves is in the communal prison shower. Lyshitski, sensing that Nelson is a valuable asset no pun intended as he is new and fresh meat, defends Nelson against wannabe violators by exclaiming that Nelson is his "bitch" . . . and molesting him in public as well . . . just a little bit.
Over the next few weeks, Nelson adjusts to prison life as well as the occasional beatings that go with it. Things do take a turn for the worse, though, as Nelson, wishing to improve his defense counsel, discovers that, due to being ousted by the board of his charity, he is now broke. Speaking of fiduciary matters, Lyshitski sells Nelson to another prisoner (Chi McBride) for a carton of cigarettes . . . and then he conspires to leave Nelson alone in their cell. Ooh . . . I smell ass rape on the horizon! Or not, as Nelson is gently kidnapped by his new owner's lackeys and then, once in the new owner's cell, Nelson's master plies his new charge with some toilet wine. Mmm. Also included in the romantic evening are fine conversation and bodily insecurities. Wow . . . it's just like they've been together for years! In order to make Nelson feel a little more comfortable, his master puts on some Chuck Mangione and explains the seriousness of the situation, which causes Nelson to Eskimo kiss his master under the threat of castration. How romantic!
Sometime later, Nelson writes to a young pen pal while the white supremacists reveal that their leader wants REVENGE for Nelson ratting him out earlier in the film. Dum-dum-DUM! Nelson, in order to avert a bloody, violent death, elects to attempt to apologize to the leader of the white supremacists over dinner; sadly, Nelson's kindness isn't appreciated as the white supremacist responds to his contrition by stabbing Nelson in the legs with forks. Yummy! Oh, and to add insult to injury, the leader of the white supremacists STILL wants REVENGE! Geez . . . and I thought Nelson getting forked would be enough. Goes to show what I know about prison justice.
Back in his cell, Nelson is forced to tolerate Lyshitski's heartless mockery; in order to put an end to his misery and stymie his upcoming execution, Nelson visits the prison herbalist looking for a touch of poison. Before ending his life, Nelson sends a profanity-laced letter to his pen pal who reads it in school in a touching moment but, just when Nelson intends to end it all, the white supremacists show up to exact their own justice. The leader of the white supremacist asks for privacy and he beats Nelson unmercifully in his cell . . . until he finds Nelson's poison-filled syringe and injects it into his veins, ending the fight remarkably quickly. Lyshitski, expecting the opposite outcome, is freaked out by the situation at hand and, in the aftermath and in a daze of confusion, he infers that there's a grand scheme afoot . . . specifically the one he launched to get Nelson into prison.
In the days after the white supremacists' leader's death, the rest of the white supremacists pledge to protect Nelson, which gives him a powerful reputation in the prison. Later, in a bathroom, Nelson and his master meet and Nelson, perhaps emboldened by his new power, spurns his master's advances. The master, unsurprisingly, is heartbroken by the development, so he attempts a violent REVENGE does everyone want REVENGE in this movie? but he has a change of heart before murdering and/or raping Nelson . . . and Nelson has a change of heart as well. Before Nelson and his master can reconcile, however, the white supremacists bust in to beat down the master until Nelson intervenes and gives the master a free pass out of the kindness of his heart. I think they're in love!
Somehow, through some convoluted series of events, Lyshitski is sent to the hole for a few weeks and, once he's released, he discovers that Nelson is running the prison . . . and having the inmates do Tai Chi and interpretive dance. Weird. Just weird. Lyshitski goes a bit haywire as he discovers that his grand scheme of VENGEANCE has backfired totally so he apologizes to Nelson by bringing him a Fresca. A suspiciously opened Fresca. After a few moments of deliberation, Nelson imbibes of the soda and, unsurprisingly, he passes out. Unfortunately for him, this happens the day before his parole hearing; when he awakens for the panel, he discovers some new white-supremacist brands on his neck and forehead which do little to endear him to the parole board. Oops.
His parole denied, Nelson seeks REVENGE against Lyshitski back in the cell. A scuffle breaks out between them, during which Lyshitski reveals his plot to thwart Nelson's family! The head guard (David Koechner) shows up to break up the fight WHAMMY! and then he schedules a duel between Nelson and Lyshitski . . . to the death! In addition, the head guard also sets up the betting lines on the fight during the interim; no word on what the odds are I'll have another "WHAMMY!" joke in this column. While Nelson and Lyshitski find themselves in a forced détente for the rest of the week, Nelson gets a visit from his newly released master who misses him terribly. How sweet!
After the visit, Nelson has an epiphany and he calls his ex-chairman (Odenkirk) revealing a new development in the management of the charity. It seems that, somehow, Nelson adopted his master as his son and, therefore, the master is now in control of the charity in Nelson's stead. Well played, Nelson; well played indeed. Back at the prison, the wry warden meets with the head guard about the possible skullduggery going on under his nose and it seems a reprimand is in order . . . until the warden decides to put some money down on the fight as well. Oh . . . WHAMMY!
Speaking of the fight, the day of reckoning finally comes and Lyshitski and Nelson stride to the place of their possible demise. Once there, the fight quickly degenerates into a shank fight and then, after a brief pummeling on both sides, Nelson and Lyshitski duel with mysteriously filled syringes. Nelson finally stabs Lyshitski with his needle and he celebrates his victory . . . until the syringe that Lyshitski thrust into his back takes effect. Whoa . . . that was a bit of a dark turn. Apparently, the fight ends up as a draw; whoever had that result in the pool will probably make a pretty penny . . . or a few cartons of smokes and a bitch or two.
Due to Nelson's untimely demise, his former master and "son" inherits the charity and trust and then, after the funeral, he digs up his remarkably not dead father! Whoa . . . now there's zombies? What is up with this movie! At least I hope the zombies aren't out for revenge. Anyway, thankfully, there aren't any zombies after all as Nelson plotted with the herbalist helpfully introduced earlier in the picture to fake his own death. In addition, Nelson also conspired with Lyshitski to make the fight a "draw" as Lyshitski was in on the plot all along . . . which explains why he's not dead when Nelson and his "son" dig him up as well. As a denouement, one year later Nelson and his master/"son" own a winery together and they get their vintner Lyshitski to intimidate a critic into getting a good rating for their toilet wine. OK; that's just weird.
For all intents and purposes, Let's Go to Prison is a cowardly movie. There are far too many dark twists and turns mostly the massive amount of REVENGE involved in the film, as well as the false ending to keep Let's Go to Prison from being the fully realized farce it can be. On the other hand, the preponderance of goofy set pieces hold Let's Go to Prison back from being a full-blown dark comedy, which would work well considering the setting and subject matter. As it is, Let's Go to Prison is unduly trapped between two types of comedy and, sadly, it commits to neither one. If it went to either end of the spectrum, Let's Go to Prison could have been a hidden gem; as it is now, it'll just have to be content with its status as a Misunderstood Masterpiece.
Join me next week as I kick off a threesome of adult-themed animation with an early 80s nerd-fantasy come to life . . . well, on the big screen, at least. See you then!
