There’s a stunning rags-to-rags morality tale hidden in this two-hour mess of a movie, but it will take sharp scissors to find it — and to bring out viewer sympathy for Troy Duffy, a real-life Boston beanhead who blew his huge Tinseltown deal through unearned bravado and a really big mouth.
Seven years back, Duffy landed a deal with Miramax to make “The Boondock Saints,” a bit of sub-Tarantino nonsense that got Weinsteined-and-dined in a moment of weakness. Harv supposedly even promised to buy the West Hollywood bar where Troy was working, and there was talk of a record deal for the gruff-rock band he ran with his brother. Duffy was so convinced this music-and-movie package would make him a legend, he quickly alienated everyone, including band managers Tony Montana and Mark Brian Smith, also hired to document his rise to greatness. For jaw-dropping hubris, it’s hard to choose between a scene where the foul-mouthed, chain-smoking Duffy tells the “Overnight” makers they’ll never get paid or one that has him firing his own bro from the foundering band. But even as a tragic hero, Duffy’s a bully and a bore.