Produced and directed by Steve Anderson

With: Hunter S. Thompson, Pat Boone, Billy Connolly, Tera Patrick, Ice-T, Drew Carey and Sen. Alan Keyes

93 minutes

The thought of writing this review without once slipping into the title expletive did cross my mind.

Fuck it! Fuck spews the word more than 800 times, averaging out to 8.88 “fucks” a minute. When in fucking Rome…

Neither as idiosyncratic nor assured as The Aristocrats, Fuck is nonetheless a very entreating feature-length documentary dedicated to everybody’s favorite adjective.

Forget about “Fornication Under Consent of the King” or “For Unlawful Carnal Knowledge.” Any truth behind the word originating as an acronym for these terms is quickly dispelled. In fact, aside from proof that the word first appeared in the late 1700s, there isn’t much more discussion of who coined it and why. According to the film, no one knows.

Almost instantly, Fuck shelves any aspirations it had of becoming a historical document. Instead we are treated to social analysis/stand-up delivered by a cluster of talking heads who either delight in saying the word or view it as one of the main reasons our society is in such a miserable state of moral decay.

The vast majority of the participants include comedians interviewed for the movie and politicians caught off guard while tape rolled. Lenny Bruce, George Carlin and Howard Stern are all introduced via archive footage. Drew Carey, Billy Connolly and Bill Maher take turns extolling the cathartic virtues of the word. And just wait ’til those wacky Republican Dicks Nixon and Cheney crack under pressure and let loose with a filthy exclamation or two.

Even before this movie, I never once thought about anti-gay poster child Alan Keyes without wanting to scream “fuck.” No one is as skilled as camera whore Keyes when it comes to working the term “hedonistic” into a conversation. Borat’s former chocolate-faced target makes his second big-screen appearance this month. By all means, Senator, do quit your day job.

Perhaps the most amusing participant is squeaky clean Jesus freak Pat Boone. Whenever agitated, Pat substitutes his last name for the lewd expletive. Were he to get one of his white bucks lodged in a revolving door, instead of letting out a long, loud curse, the former Little Richard cover artist would emit a resounding “BOONE!” Gangsta rapper turned small-screen cop Ice-T is quick to add that he can’t wait to get home, hop on his wife and give her a good “Booneing.”

There are times when the film doesn’t know what the fuck it wants to be. Cute cutaways by animator Bill Plympton do little more than run through the projector. Credibility wanes when the focus shifts to porn stars. Just because you fuck for a living doesn’t make you a linguist.

Only a fucker doesn’t love the word “fuck,” especially when it rolls of the tongue of a DeNiro or Nicholson. In closing, here are my top 10 favorite cinematic variations on a fucking theme:

10. “All right, Bud, your fucking head is coming right off.” – The first “fuck” ever spoken in a studio production, Robert Altman’s M*A*S*H.

9. “I’ll put your head in the fucking toilet and fucking hold it there.” – Bobby D. to Charles Grodin in Midnight Run.

8. “You fucking piece of lousy shit!” – Danny “Crackers” Mills in John Waters’ Pink Flamingos.

7. “I am the motherfucking shore patrol, motherfucker!” – Jack Nicholson in The Last Detail.

6. “I fuck you right where you breathe.” – Bobby D. to one of his creditors in Scorsese’s Mean Streets.

5. “Fuuuuck me!” – Clint Eastwood whispering to himself in The Gauntlet.

4. “You pig fucker. You goddamned fucking pig-fucking liar” – Marlon Brando venting over his dead wife’s corpse in Last Tango in Paris.

3. Jake: “You mean you want me to get him to fuck you?”

Salvi: “No, I don’t want him to fuck me.”

Jake: “I can do that easy. I’ll put ya’s both on the fucking ring, I’ll gives ya’ both a fucking beating and you can both go fuck each other.” – Robert DeNiro and Frank Vincent in Raging Bull.

2. “Is the fucking you get worth the fucking you get.” – From Russ Meyer’s Super-Vixens.

1. “That’s a sick question, you’re a sick fuck and I’m not that sick that I’m gonna’ fuckin’ answer it.” Joe Pesci in Scorsese’s Raging Bull.

Rating:

Directed by Tony Scott

Written by Bill Marsilii and Terry Rossio

Starring: Denzel Washington, Paula Patton, Val Kilmer and Jim Caviezel

128 minutes in CinemaScope

Denzel Washington shares a lot in common with Sidney Poitier. Both performers represent the most powerful and commanding African-American actors of their individual eras and both have appeared in an inordinate amount of terrible films.

At least Sidney Poitier had an excuse during the Civil Rights movement when leading roles for black actors in lilywhite Hollywood were all but nonexistent. As much as he hated the perpetuation of Negro stereotypes on display in Porgy and Bess, he couldn’t refuse producer Samuel Goldwyn’s offer to play the lead for fear of having his career yanked from under him.

Romantic roles were equally problematic. The only way for Poitier to play opposite white women was if they were nuns (Lilies of the Field), blind (A Patch of Blue) or his students (To Sir, With Love). Everything from Guess Who’s Coming to Dinner on, particularly that amateurish pair of comedies he directed in the ’70s, is unwatchable.

Denzel Washington has no excuse other than a fat paycheck. His technical brilliance is never in question. Even in slop like The Bone Collector or The Siege, he is incapable of giving anything less than a flawless performance. Taste must eventually rear its ugly head, and by my calculations he hasn’t appeared in a thoroughly satisfying film since Carl Franklin’s 1995 noir Devil in a Blue Dress.

In Déjà Vu, Washington plays an ATF agent who travels back in time hoping to gather enough information to undo a terrorist bombing that took place aboard a crowded ferry. FBI agent Val Kilmer, looking as though he has a bad case of the mumps, introduces Denzel to the high-tech gizmo and it isn’t long before Washington falls in love with the digitized image of a beautiful dead stranger.

Part Laura, part Time after Time, Washington finds his woman’s face through video surveillance footage rather than misty light. This is much softer and less frenetic than any of director Tony Scott’s last few efforts. Unfortunately, even with the flashy lights and MTV cuts kept to a minimum, there is little underneath beyond a thoroughly implausible story.

A case in point: The explosives are stored in an SUV aboard the ferry. Washington knows that there is enough demolition power in the back seat to kill all 500 passengers. It is up to our hero to park the vehicle in the drink. Reason be damned, for the only way the screenwriters can extricate both Washington and the auto from its cramped parking space is by playing 20 megaton bumper cars.

How appropriate that Scott and Jerry Bruckheimer, a duo best known for their formulaic blockbusters, should direct and produce a film called Déjà Vu. There isn’t a shred of originality or logic in this thing.

The only saving grace is that five minutes in you get to see one of those adorable Fanning moppets get blowed up real good! At least wait for home video so you can rewind.

Rating: m