S.F.W. (1994)

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Stephen Dorff (The Gate, Cecil B. Demented) stars in this satiric story of a convenient store hostage survivor who can’t come to grips with his cult celebrity status after he learns the 36-day siege was televised. While Reese Witherspoon’s supporting character, also a survivor, talks about the experience in honest, dramatic ways on every imaginable TV show, Dorff’s character is amused and bewildered to discover how his cynical, nihilistic attitude — a defense mechanism during the crisis — has created an almost religious pop culture following, fueled by the fickle media. You might think of it as a very dumbed down version of J.D. Salinger syndrome.

The Catcher in the Rye comparisons end there, though, because S.F.W. is not a good movie. Dorff is attractive, but his character is so vapid and under-conceived, there is nothing of any substance to grab onto in this movie. Yes, of course, there’s a lot to be said about the troubling ‘cult of celebrity’, and S.F.W. has a field day with it, particularly in impersonations of Sam Donaldson, Phil Donahue, and Larry King. There’s also a TV movie of the week based on Dorff and Witherspoon’s experience — with Diff’rent Strokes star Gary Coleman as Dorff. After a while, those kind of jokes get old. Indicting society for its obsession with celebrities is too easy. What else is there?

S.F.W. could have been a more meaningful movie if Dorff’s character came to grips with his all-too easy resort to cynicism and nihilism — if he came to realize he really did care about things. And to be fair, he does come to care for Witherspoon’s character near the end of the film. But by that point, the film is more interested in darkly (allegedly) comedic plot twists than any meaningful characterizations or resonant ideas. Anyone who might ever invest their attention into S.F.W. is left holding the bag, wondering how has this bizarre, surreal, harrowing experience changed these characters?

S.F.W. is one of those movies that takes a provocative-sounding, potentially high concept premise, and squanders it with shallow attitude and passing style. Even though it’s based on a book by Andrew Wellman, it feels like a movie made by a marketing department. The lights are on, but nobody is home.

With Joey Lauren Adams, Jake Busey, and Jack Noseworthy.