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Swimfan (2002) Twentieth Century Fox 1 hr. 25 mins. Starring: Erika Christensen, Jesse Bradford, Shiri Appleby, Kate Burton, Clayne Crawford, Dan Hedaya, Michael Higgins Directed by: John Polson Swimfan Rating:  
E-MAIL FRANK OCHIENG Australian director-actor John Polson commits a belly flop in the troubled waters of creativity with his new teenybopper psychological thriller Swimfan. No doubt Polson’s creepy chlorine-driven drama will remind movie audiences of a cheeky adolescent version of Adrian Lyne’s 1987 Fatal Attraction mixed in with the moxie of the familiarized theme to the 1993 flick The Crush. Although Swimfan performs a convincing breaststroke through the same old conventions of suspense that manages to tweak some interest in its premise occasionally, the movie simply settles into its unoriginal format that merely floats along in a pseudo-sensationalistic mode. Actually, Polson delivers what amounts to be a polished-looking flick, right down from the pretty-looking protagonists being featured to the crisp cinematography that gives the film its high-quality glossy B movie look. There are moments when the cartoonish dramatics involving the psychotic and obsessive antics being perpetrated in the motion picture are a riotous hoot. Still, Swimfan is nothing more than a hysterical big drip that desperately manufactures some otherwise pedestrian thrills and chills. As the story goes, one-time badboy Ben Cronin (Jesse Bradford) is a New Jersey-based high schooler with lots to be thankful for. With all his sordid conflicts seemingly behind him, Ben looks forward to staying on the positive road of being focused. The guy has plenty to live for since he has a new lease on life. He’s good-looking, has a knockout girlfriend Amy (Shiri Appleby), a dependable best buddy Josh (Clayne Crawford) and more importantly he’s an incredible athlete courtesy of his swimming prowess. In fact, Ben hopes to get his hands on a scholarship that will send him to gloried halls of Stanford. So far, the outlook looks bright until one indiscreet lapse in judgment will be considered a costly price for the Mark Spitz wannabe that will soon come to haunt him later on. Enter Madison (Erika Christensen from Traffic), a desirable gal who would eventually earn the title of loony lass. She’s the new girl on campus and apparently diver dude Ben can’t bat away his temptation to play footsies with the tempting tart. Also, Madison has the same mutual lusty feelings for the waterlogged cad. Inevitably, the lip-locked twosome carry on an ill-advised one- night stand of cheap unbridled passion. And though Ben’s hormones were finally released from their prison cell, he feared that this indiscretion would backfire in the long run and ruin his disciplined standing. So Ben hastily retreats from Madison hoping to put his “mistake” on the back burner. But Madison, predictably in Fatal Glenn Close fashion, will not go away very easily. Hence, she will make her presence known as Ben’s “number one fan” (gee, Polson even rips off the clingy possessive vibes from Rob Reiner’s horrifying heroine Annie Wilkes in 1990’s eerie Misery). Much like all cinematic sinister babes out to exact some revenge thanks to being on the short end of a teasing tryst, Madison relentlessly pursues Ben without taking the hint that she was nothing more that a temporary passionate plaything to begin with. Thus begins a series of desperate deeds in Madison’s warped attempt at wooing Ben back to her cockeyed corner. Her stalking comes at a dangerous albeit unintentionally comical pinnacle when she starts sending crazed e-mails to Ben, showing up at the frazzled guy’s house like some ridiculously bothersome salesperson wanting to unload useless merchandise and exhibiting homicidal tendencies toward her target’s friends and associates. One wonders what the maniacal Madison will do for an encore, huh? Guess Ben should have stayed in the shallow water of the pool instead of risking the tricky emotional depth of the deep end, right? The world, much to Ben’s control, is starting to tumble around him. Because of his dumb entanglement with the off-the-wall Madison, the dejected Ben senses that is idyllic relationship with Amy will be ruined. Once more, this spurned vixen’s outrage could jeopardize his chances at securing the scholarship he’s worked for so much through his talents as a skillful swimmer. But hey, if you are willing to play, then you certainly will pay…that’s the bottom line. It doesn’t take long for things to go south for the conflicted speedo-wearing hunk. A series of regrettable incidents start to formulate that ultimately affect Ben and his inner circle. In fact, the finger points to Ben regarding some of the unavoidable happenings taking place. For instance, when he’s falsely accused of dabbling in steroid use, the swimmer is immediately kicked off the swim team. Or when Amy is hospitalized courtesy of Ben’s wrongdoing (if it was his wrongdoing to begin with), the deck is stacked against the stressed-out athlete. All these occurrences are quite suspicious and the wily Ben soon finds out that the plotting Madison may be the one that’s possibly behind the mayhem. Gee, I wonder how he came to this obvious conclusion? Hmmm…Ben Cronin…a veritable Sherlock Holmes with goggles and flippers! Swimfan does have a twisted swagger about it that’s mildly entertaining at times. And no doubt the audience will bask in the glory of the run-of-the-mill gory scenes while the movie plays up its “hath no fury like a woman scorned” angle in a delightfully devious manner. But despite these few palatable observations, Polson doesn’t seem to have his caustic drive in full force based on his lackadaisical direction. Swimfan feels dogmatically tepid in its methodical plotline where we know for certain what twists and turns will occur thanks to a tattered and uninspired script by writers Charles Bohl and Phillip Schneider. The freshness of what transpires in this movie is as stiff and flexible as a darn diving board! The casting of the players are fine from an attractive standpoint and will surely appeal to the Teen Beat crowd. But the performances muster no real grittiness in this paddle-kicking potboiler. Christensen, who was very resourceful as Michael Douglas’s drug-drenched daughter in Traffic, plays Madison with the silly energetic conviction of a spoiled brat whose cell phone was taken away from her. She never really gets to radiate the complexities of a cunning cutie because the film is too trite to support her satanic agenda. Plus, Bradford’s Ben comes off as an abs-flexing prettyboy in swim trunks who is reduced to standing around looking perplexed while mulling over his misguided actions. The movie places him in the middle of this chaos yet his zombie-like indifference to what’s taking place is laughably noticeable. Swimfan demonstrates its exhaustive laps up and down the lanes with rudimentary intrigue, a lackluster plot, and photogenic leads and supporting players who cater to the numbness of the film’s abysmal storyline. This is one swim meet that won’t garner any Olympic medals anytime soon. Polson’s vehicle should have hit the showers from the time the movie’s beginning credits rolled. Click here to comment on this review or post your own thoughts. Frank Ochieng © TheWorldJournal.com |
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