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He spent 23 years in prison, 14 of them for kidnapping a judge at gunpoint. Although he jokes he's 'semi-bloody-literate,' he wrote nine books, some in prison and some of which became bestsellers.
Self-aware and self-mythologizing in the extreme, he's the subject of 'Chopper,' a fictionalized film writer-director Andrew Dominik based on the subject's memoirs and seasoned with liberal creative license.
The character thrives on being a folk hero with fan clubs.
He knows he's someone with whom danger seekers can't resist wanting to rub shoulders. He's stimulated by the awe and fear he inspires in others. Given the way he exalts himself and his reputation, anything that makes him more famous is desirable.
The film is set in two time periods, 1978 and 1986, and framed as flashbacks while Chopper and cell mates watch on TV an interview he has done with a titillated female reporter.
A ghastly scene near the beginning sets the grimly comic tone.
Keithy George (David Field), the prisoner who dominates all others, needles Chopper, who fatally stabs him in a gruesomely graphic way. As Keithy writhes in blood, struggling for a final breath, Chopper nonchalantly offers him a cigarette.
Later, another prisoner attempts revenge on the sturdily built, heavily tattooed Chopper, stabbing him repeatedly but having little more effect than one would on Superman.
As the blood flows, Chopper responds so pragmatically, offering forgiveness and more opportunities to dig in, that the audience - those who haven't already fled - laughs nervously. Yet another scene will have everyone recoiling.
Chopper intrigues us because he's such a volatile blend of egomania, animal, paranoia and contrition.
Like countless movies of the past 30 years, though, 'Chopper' gets swept up in its ultra-cheeky cool.
Chopper compels attention partly because each wave within his mood swings breaks with such force. We watch with dread and fascination. We sense that anything is possible because his behavior isn't tempered by an identifiable conscience. As played with great assurance by comedian Eric Bana, Chopper is like a perpetual accident in the process of happening.
When he attacks his prostitute-girlfriend Tanya (Kate Beahan) and her mother, he steps back and, with a twist that will be familiar to legions of the abused, says: 'Now look what you've done.'
Dominik's picture is so ragged narratively and so lacking in motivation that it kicks us from scene to scene without the benefit of coherent psychological flow.
There are better ways of holding an audience in one's grip than to keep us gasping, 'What is he up to now?'
Ed Blank can be reached at (412) 854-5555 or eblank@tribweb.com .
