Coming out of Sundance 2010, Joel Schumacher’s Twelve was being heralded as the worst movie at the festival by some critics. Now it is in limited release and having just sat through it, I can see why. It’s pretty rare for me to give out scores of zero, despite having recently done so for Charlie St. Cloud and Step Up 3D, so I almost feel bad for doing it again here. Almost.
The basic plot of the story is this: there’s a new drug in town called twelve that is making its way around the streets and messing people up. But within that basic story are dozens of characters whose lives intersect, convoluting it all. There’s White Mike (Chace Crawford), the local drug dealer who is still mourning over the death of his mother to breast cancer. His cousin Charlie is hopped up on twelve, though Mike doesn’t supply him with it. He refuses to carry such a drug. Lionel (50 Cent) is Mike’s supplier and is about to have a violent run in with Charlie and a young African American kid named NaNa (Jermaine Crawford). NaNa is on his way home from a game of basketball where he has just been in a fight with Hunter (Philip Ettinger), a rich kid from the Upper East Side, who is about to be accused of murder.
There’s also Sara (Esti Ginzburg), the hottest girl in her school, Molly (Emma Roberts), who has been friends with drug dealer Mike since childhood, Chris (Rory Culkin), the local party thrower, Claude (Billy Magnussen), his steroid taking, unstable brother, and Jessica (Emily Meade), a new junkie who will do anything to get her twelve fix. The list goes on and on. Believe it or not, I haven’t even finished listing all of the characters in this overstuffed film. In fact, before all of them are even introduced, two are killed off. There’s simply too much going on and the descriptive anecdotes for extraneous characters like Chris and Claude’s maid was unnecessary.
Although I suspect this is intentional, the characters in the movie are deplorable. Most, if not all, are rotten rich kids who have every opportunity in the world right in front of them, but squander it due to their drug use. The females in the movie are the type of girls who are so infatuated with themselves that if a guy doesn’t hit on them, they write them off as gay. The guys are all morons whose desire to score with women is the only thing that trumps their desire to score dope. All are poorly juggled. Twelve jumps back and forth from each putrid character like a fly at a picnic ground.
It’s easy to hate the characters from moral and intellectual viewpoints, but the movie is simply too laughable to keep you too angry. Take Jessica for instance, who, as told through ridiculous narration by Kiefer Sutherland, has kept every stuffed bear ever given to her. Well, after taking a hit of twelve, they start to talk to her in a cutesy voice you’d expect to hear in children’s television shows, asking her who she would kill if given the opportunity. It’s supposed to be unsettling, but instead it’s just really, really funny.
By the time Twelve reaches its end, you’ll have already checked out, but that won’t stop memories of the Virginia Tech massacre or the recent Connecticut shootings from infiltrating your thoughts. The climax is so reminiscent of these tragic events that its depiction is downright irresponsible.
To get a good idea of what Twelve has in store for you, consider this: 50 Cent gives the best performance. Take that as you will. My advice is to skip it, but if you really want to see a movie about snooty rich kids suffering through their own self inflicted problems, by all means give it a go.
Twelve receives 0/5