Director: Stacy Title
In this biting political satire that skewers both sides of the political spectrum and the horrid tendency we have at times to block out the opinions of others by simply assuming that we are fully just and in the right in fierce opposition to the first amendment we like to trumpet, writer Dan Rosen and Stacy Title take a look at idealism run amuck among the grad student set. Set in Iowa, The Last Supper centers on a group of five graduate student friends who share a home while pursuing their passions in higher education only to decide to turn to murder for what they believe is the good of mankind after an altercation with a racist and dangerous man (Bill Paxton) turns to murder after he gives a lift to one of the students and is invited in for dinner as a thank you. Quickly using the unfortunate event as a hypothetical, the students wonder what would have happened if someone could have stopped Hitler before he became Hitler and now feeling invincible and just, they proceed to invite extremists over for dinner with the understanding that if they cannot change their minds, they will poison their guest with wine at the end of the meal. Although the ingenious premise makes a wonderful source of dark comedy, it’s never quite cashed in to the fullest extent with a script that isn’t certain whether it wants to be a tragedy, comedy or strive for a 70’s style political satire and the set-up quickly gets repetitive as the guests start piling up in the tomato garden in the backyard, making the ninety minute film seem much longer. It loses some of its focus in the middle section despite a delicious twist ending and would’ve benefited from a few more wrenches being thrown in the students’ path but the appealing young cast including Cameron Diaz, Courtney B. Vance, Annabeth Gish, Ron Eldard, and Jonathan Penner (husband of director Title) help keep things afloat. Ultimately uneven but compelling, The Last Supper is destined to become a cult classic that will no doubt lead to a following among the college student set.
In this biting political satire that skewers both sides of the political spectrum and the horrid tendency we have at times to block out the opinions of others by simply assuming that we are fully just and in the right in fierce opposition to the first amendment we like to trumpet, writer Dan Rosen and Stacy Title take a look at idealism run amuck among the grad student set. Set in Iowa, The Last Supper centers on a group of five graduate student friends who share a home while pursuing their passions in higher education only to decide to turn to murder for what they believe is the good of mankind after an altercation with a racist and dangerous man (Bill Paxton) turns to murder after he gives a lift to one of the students and is invited in for dinner as a thank you. Quickly using the unfortunate event as a hypothetical, the students wonder what would have happened if someone could have stopped Hitler before he became Hitler and now feeling invincible and just, they proceed to invite extremists over for dinner with the understanding that if they cannot change their minds, they will poison their guest with wine at the end of the meal. Although the ingenious premise makes a wonderful source of dark comedy, it’s never quite cashed in to the fullest extent with a script that isn’t certain whether it wants to be a tragedy, comedy or strive for a 70’s style political satire and the set-up quickly gets repetitive as the guests start piling up in the tomato garden in the backyard, making the ninety minute film seem much longer. It loses some of its focus in the middle section despite a delicious twist ending and would’ve benefited from a few more wrenches being thrown in the students’ path but the appealing young cast including Cameron Diaz, Courtney B. Vance, Annabeth Gish, Ron Eldard, and Jonathan Penner (husband of director Title) help keep things afloat. Ultimately uneven but compelling, The Last Supper is destined to become a cult classic that will no doubt lead to a following among the college student set.
