A few years ago, my former employer decided to produce a series of videos for the smartphone market and tasked me with writing them. I threw together 25 scripts centered on the concept of the “sport” of curling (their idea, not mine), handed them in and heard nothing about the project for four months.
Then I learned the videos were going to be directed by “exciting new talent” David Ostry, who was then at work on a feature film produced by Kevin Spacey, starring Hayden Panettiere, that cute cheerleader from Heroes. I was excited to find out my scripts were actually going to be produced, and looked forward to hearing from Ostry when he inevitably sought my feedback.
Four more months passed, and I was surprised when I was asked if I wanted to see the completed videos. My surprise turned to horror when I saw that the “exciting new talent” had managed to completely misinterpret all of my scripts, sometimes conveying the exact opposite point and tone I had intended. Adding insult to injury, the only credit that appeared in the videos was Ostry’s, completely negating my own contribution to the project.
So you can forgive me if I approached The Good Student with a distinct bias against it. I try to never start watching a movie wanting to hate it, but in this case, I was willing to make an exception. It’s so poorly made, it’s no wonder the film took so long to be released, even with such a well-known, talented cast, including Tim Daly, William Sadler and Dan Hedaya. Despite starting out as an editor, Ostry has difficulty getting shots that cut well together and the digital-video cinematography makes the work look and feel like an ambitious home movie.
But its biggest flaw is its inability to maintain a consistent tone. Clearly inspired by American Beauty, it loses focus midway through and ceases to be an unsuccessful social satire in favor of being an unsuccessful thriller. But you can’t take my word for it, since I have an admitted ax to grind, which means you’ll have to judge it for yourself.
You poor, poor bastards. —Allan Mott