Mark Reviews Movies: THE FANATIC

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Review by Mark Dujsik | August 29, 2019

One could argue that The Fanatic is about the relationship between obsessive fans and uncaring artists brought to extremes, but that's about the most one could say about the underlying point of co-writer/director Fred Durst's movie. Besides, that's barely an underlying theme. It's all right there on the surface for everyone to see. When you get down to the core of it, this story is primarily about getting its characters to a point at which they'll enact grisly acts of violence against each other.

This is an ugly movie—from its look, to its portrayal of these characters, to its depiction of violence, and to the utter nihilism that comes with the completion of this tale. There's nothing inherently wrong with seeing Hollywood and its inhabitants and those who cling to it in such an unappealing light. Surely, though, there has to be more to a long stroll through the darker parts of the relationship between artists and fans than just wallowing in how dark it all might be, could be, and probably is.

The biggest issue is that Durst and co-writer Dave Bekerman don't say anything here. We meet a movie fan nicknamed "Moose" (John Travolta), who's particularly obsessed with horror-movie star Hunter Dunbar (Devon Sawa). Moose collects a lot of memorabilia, and his newest piece is a vest that Hunter wore in some terrible-looking vampire-hunter movie. His big plan is to meet the actor at a party, tell Hunter how much he loves him, and get an autograph. As back-up, the actor will be signing his new book at the memorabilia shop.

Instead, the party is a private affair, about which Moose's friend Leah (Ana Golja), a freelance celebrity photographer, told him. By the way, Leah narrates this sordid tale with such clichés as not meeting your heroes (Durst and Bekerman seem to think that explaining the meaning of that phrase is profound, which should be a warning about how mindless the whole thing is), as she reflects on how badly things turned out for her friend. Again, everything the movie wants us to contemplate is right there for us to see and hear—and all as shallow as that.

Anyway, Hunter isn't at the party, and Moose makes a fool of himself in front of an actress with how star-struck he is and then the whole party when he realizes his hero isn't there. At the book signing, Moose gets to be next in line for an autograph, but Hunter is called outside to discuss a family matter with his ex-wife (played by Jessica Uberuaga). Moose follows him, makes a scene, and gets severely told off by Hunter. From there, Moose's quest to get an autograph becomes more obsessive and more invasive.

All of this should seem pretty straightforward, but there's a significant part to it that intentionally has been omitted. It's the matter of Moose, who isn't just a rabid fan. There is something unmistakably different about him, which is never outright stated or explained (The most Durst comes to explaining Moose's behavior is a silly flashback of a young Moose watching movies while his mother entertains a gentleman caller).

We spend the entire movie wondering if this is just Travolta, trying (and spectacularly failing) to give the character a tremendous degree of childlike innocence to his obsession, or if it's a conscious decision for the filmmakers. The former is laughable, especially with the calculated fidgetiness of Travolta's performance and the character's appearance (a lot of Hawaiian shirts and a haircut that's a distracting bowl-cut/mullet combo). The latter, of course, suggests that Moose has a mental or developmental condition, which really just makes us wonder what the hell the filmmakers were thinking.

Whatever the reason, the ultimate point is that Moose, just a guy who loves movies and this actor in particular, is framed as the sympathetic hero—despite killing a maid who dares to tell him to get off Hunter's lawn (and whose existence is completely forgotten about until the story's final, absurd sort-of twist). Meanwhile, Hunter, who's vain (and was having an affair with said maid) but is just trying to live a private life and protect his kid, is the dastardly villain. There could have been something to this. If Durst had any concern or understanding of perspective in storytelling (such as, you know, seeing everything from Moose's point of view), we might actually be able to discuss it.

Instead, The Fanatic tosses aside such potentially subversive ideas to concentrate exclusively on one for its elongated climax: violence. The setup is a joke (in ways that even the filmmakers don't grasp). The payoff-as-punch-line is torture, dismemberment, and eye-gouging. That's it.

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