Kuffs
Kuffsi is an excellent comedy.
The pillar supporting the entire thing is Christian Slater, who proceeds to do the most difficult thing known to the art of the actor, which is the wall breaching narrative. He does it throughout, and he does it extremely well, and with a seeming ease that delights to boot!
These things usually fail because the writing is trite (but here B. A. Evans got his back, and splendidly at that!) ; or because the actor overacts (it's a very easy thing to do, because of an implicit negative feedback loop - you hear nothing from the audience so you keep talking "louder" - but Slater does not, he's downright suave) ; or for many other reasons. This film should be studied in all earnest seriousness by anyone aspiring to the craft, because I know of no better example extant.
The quality of the script shows in many places, even if the scheme is the scheme, quirky policeman with his quirky partner with their tired civil servant of a boss and the evil mastermind and the tensed sexual relationship and so on. Yet, admire : why does the detective dump his sex toy at the beginning only to scoop her back up at the end, so the watching population of confused adolescent males of all ages doesn't need to worry about being gay ? No, not for angoisse mysterieuse, Al Pacino's trademark solution - but because teenage pregnancy. She's in college, he's a bum. That's why. Not good enough ? Ahahahaha. Fuck you. The intended audience is adolescent males of all ages with enough endocrine function left to wonder about it ; not the libertard version that knows full well "it dun work, not no mo'". Admire further : why is the partner suspended ? No, not because "shot guy with best intentions", no not because "it was an accident" as every single one of these. No - because fucks chief's wife. Yes ? This is what comedy is all about, unexpected damnation, like when the chief's middleage crisis car burns down. You know ?
No you don't know, because you're not the sort to walk the next day after being shot in the kidney, nor do you have any friends who fuck the Megadirettore's wife and burn down his car with impunity, nor is your girlfriend so proud to carry your seed she'll wait for you forever or quietly converseii her father's hard earned fortune for your convenience. But that's ok - this is what you've got Slater and his Tinsel Friends for! Watching them do it is almost as good, certainly the closest it gets and certainly the best ersatz extant.
So enjoy, and see you around.
PS. It's a false dilemma. Nobody has to decide whether he wants to raise a woman's child in a one-wife-marriage or else to dump the girl. Tuna is the healthiest component of any girl's breakfast, especially should she aspire to live with the cool guys. That's the lemma there, not di but tri : harem, or else Rob, or else spinsterdoom aka "feminism". Not even so much a lemma ; more of an intelligence-as-fitness test.
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