Only now does it occur to me... I can show you what you need to know about Stephen Hopkins' BLOWN AWAY better than I can tell you. In short, it's a delirious slice of mid-90s madness, as if PATRIOT GAMES and SPEED were ground together into mélange of Jeff Bridges running in vain toward slo-mo explosions, the absolute worst Irish accents ever put to film, and a sensibility that screams "Bruckheimer," though no Bruckheimers were involved in this project. It was ahead of its time.
But first, a few clips, with very little context.
The first, I call: "Forest Whitaker Fails to Notice an Extremely Conspicuous Tommy Lee Jones."
Here, Forest is jogging up a Boston staircase and is so zoned out to the beautiful strains of U2 that he does not notice Tommy Lee Jones––in the busiest Jesus t-shirt ever worn––taping him with a camcorder from six inches away.
The second, I call: "Tommy Lee Jones Is Suspiciously Protective of His Crab Bag."
Here, he simultaneously creeps out and amuses Suzy Amis, who has never seen crab puppet theater performed on a public beach.
The final clip, I call: "Tommy Lee Jones Drunken Dance Mania."
While in some ways this is of a piece with "Ed Harris Dance Mania in CREEPSHOW," the intent is more along the lines of "Ted Levine/'Goodbye Horses' in SILENCE OF THE LAMBS." I have excised the footage of Jeff Bridges wandering around the cobwebb'd periphery of Jones' lair in this clip because it did not involve Tommy Lee Jones drunkenly rocking out to, yes, the exact same U2 song that Forest Whitaker was listening to in Clip #1.
I believe I have now informed you of all you need to know about BLOWN AWAY, and you may carry on.
