Body Shots Movie Review

Again, Hollywood has taken creative marketing to new heights with Body Shots. Judging by the trailers, the ads, even the tagline (“There are movies that define every decade!”), one would be led to believe that Body Shots is an incisive drama/comedy about twentysomething relationships, emphasis on the comedy.

Body Shots is not that movie.

You know it from the start, when a battered Sara (Reid) comes careening through the streets of L.A., obviously post-rape. Nothing starts a movie off quite like a rape aftermath, but in flashback, the film starts to look up. The next half hour tells us about the night before, when four guys and four girls go to a downtown club, all looking to hook up for the night.

Some of them do, and some don’t. And one of these entanglements ends up badly. At first, Livingston alone provides comic relief as a semi-lovable loser who shows up in golfing regalia and can’t get in the club. But on The Day After, Body Shots quickly degenerates into a Movie of the Week that would play better on Lifetime, with a he said/she said legal war that is never resolved.

While Body Shots has its moments, by and large it’s a poor entry into the genre. Its “clever” photography and self-referential nonsense gets old, quickly. The speeches given directly to camera are silly and unrealistic: No one acts like this. Even the title doesn’t make sense. There are no body shots in the movie. (The title was recently changed from the trademark-challenged Jello Shots, and there is no Jello in the movie, either.)

Eight Very Beautiful People acting ugly? Count me out. Check out Swingers or Go, which are far better treatments of the same theme.



Shoot me.