Mad and downright sad
HAVING paid $ 18 to see Mental last week, all I can say is: I want my $ 100 back.
Sadly, no amount of added compensation will come close to ever killing the bitter after- tang of this true cinematic lemon.
To relay to you just how off its game Mental can get, let’s take a look at what goes on in the closing minutes of the picture.
The camera pulls back to reveal Ms Toni Collette with her pants in the descendant, and her exposed posterior in the ascendant.
Subsequently, the presence of a naked flame in the room is noted. An inflammatory implement is then placed in close proximity to the Collette bottom, just as a high quantity of natural gas is released in the same area.
The residence as a whole catches alight, forcing Collette to retreat to the nature strip outside, where she kicks over some rubbish bins in triumph. The end.
A fitting conclusion to a movie that has not only got up the nose of viewers at every opportunity but has been complete garbage to boot. So who is responsible for this debacle? None other than writer- director MENTAL ★ ■
P. J. Hogan ( Toni Collette, Rebecca Gibney, Anthony LaPaglia, Liev Schreiber, Deborah Mailman P. J. Hogan, formerly famous for creating one of the all- time great Australian movies in Muriel’s Wedding.
He’ll soon be infamous for unleashing one of the all- time grating Australian movies in Mental.
The intention here, and it could very well have started out on honourable grounds, is to draw attention to the issue of mental illness among regular folk.
Collette plays Shaz, a shrill, chaosbaiting fairy godmother who rushes to the aid of four young sisters when their own mother ( Rebecca Gibney) is bundled off to a psychiatric facility.
While absentee dad ( Anthony LaPaglia)
concentrates on winning the next mayoral election, the girls tag along with Shaz as she sets about cutting down the tallest poppies in their stuck- up neighbourhood.
The crux of Mental ’ s irksome inability to entertain is that a majority of its comedy scenes resolutely fail in their goal to change perceptions of psychiatric illness.
The sheer unfunniness of certain material desensitises instead of destigmatises.
One flamboyantly misjudged scene in Mental sums up a flamboyantly misjudged motion picture as a whole.
Shaz and her eccentric entourage enter the pristine lounge room of a snobby neighbour. Shaz unsubtly flags the possibility that the menstrual flows of all visitors may be in strict alignment. Whereupon the all- white furniture within the room is redecorated to spectacularly non- comic effect. That’s enough from me about Mental. I can’t find a match or a cigarette lighter anywhere. So I’m going outside to kick over some bins.