“You call that compassionate conservatism?” Sheriff Buzz Hall asks as a maniacal, axe-wielding Ronald Reagan looms over a cowering blonde girl. A reasonable question considering the gruesome circumstances, yet for David Arquette (Scream, Eight Legged Freaks), making his feature film directorial debut in “The Tripper,” political pathos struggles to stay afloat in a swirling sea of satirical humor, egregious death scenes, and a myriad of diverging storylines .

After a confounding prologue set in 1967 depicts a logger’s young son inexplicably murdering an environmentalist refusing to allow a lumber company to harvest precious Redwood trees, we cut to a present day van full of twenty-something’s as they drive to a rural music festival hosted by a sleazy entrepreneur played fittingly by Paul Reubens. What ensues is a virtue and vice tale featuring our protagonists experiencing hooka bongs, a group of alpha male rednecks (director Arquette being one of them), acid trips, moral conundrums, and a vicious serial killer donning a Ronald Reagan mask complete with a business suit. Think “American Psycho” meets “Dazed and Confused.”

As one might expect from a slasher film, our group of horny hippies, led by veteran stoner Jason Mewes (Clerks, Jay and Silent Bob Strike Back) makes camp unaware of the imminent danger lurking around them in the sinister Redwood forest; not altogether unlike the dreadful threat of a filibuster haunting lawmakers on Capitol Hill. Thomas Jane (Deep Blue Sea, The Punisher) plays Sheriff Hall who quickly finds himself tracking down a killer after two mutilated bodies turn up near the concert grounds. Jaime King (Sin City, Two for the Money) is seemingly miscast as innocent Samantha, the token moral compass of the group who is convinced her sociopath (and Republican) ex-boyfriend is responsible for the killings. Nevertheless, the acting is most certainly the strong suit of the film. Fine supporting performances by newcomer Stephen Heath and Paz de la Huerta offer an honest portrait of what young adults are capable of when possessing an abundance of spare time, hallucinogenic drugs, and a sex drive that would make Jerry Falwell blush.

Given the scare tactics and political backstabbing permeating the Beltway these days, one might expect Arquette to offer a carefully devised political commentary in a slasher film featuring a hippie-hunting killer hiding behind the likeness of former President Reagan. Instead, we are given something that would make a C-SPAN 2 broadcast of a Senate confirmation hearing seem like a sleek thriller taught with tension. That is not to say, though, that the film is not funny. Reagan himself (as noted at the beginning of the film) once opined that a hippie is someone who, “dresses like Tarzan, has hair like Jane, and smells like Cheetah.” For sure, as various groups of hippies descend upon the music festival we see everything from a couple walking naked in the woods to a man on stilts wearing a bird suit.

Humor aside, Arquette struggles at times to define the parameters of his satirical killer. For instance, no distinction in vendetta level is made between hippies and true money-grubbing conservatives because both types meet their bloody demise at the hand of the Gipper. Calling a Republican a killer is one thing, but failing to acknowledge that they take care of their friends is a bit of a misnomer! Furthermore, the ethos of the killer remains elusive as the film progresses. We know that as a boy he was traumatized by newsreel images of the Vietnam War and tree-hugging hippies, yet his obsession with Reagan is left open to interpretation. We do learn, however, that he has a captive hog named George W.

In the end, if someone were to ask me if this is a good film, I would be inclined to refer to Bill Clinton’s response to a Federal Grand Jury question regarding the Monica Lewinsky affair: It depends on what the meaning of “is” is.

Article by Chris Virnig