Well, I don't think the picture is as bad as most of the reviews make it out to be. . . but there's no denying that it's got problems.
Mostly, the problems are in the script. There's a plot - but not much story, and certainly not one that anybody could call plausible; it trots out any number of self-consciously strange and/or stereotypical characters, lines, moments, what-have-you and, by the end, it just hasn't added up to much in this department.
Sorry, but I couldn't care less about whatever "social ill" Farnsworth might be trying to address; there will always be a sector of the population willing to do just about anything to shred their brains, even if it requires running around corn fields trying to steal ammonia, or whatever it is those morons do. So, as a film, you won't find me calling "Iowa" "important." But, at a stylistic level, the picture is more than interesting and some of Farnsworth's choices in depicting a meth-head's wigged-out state are beautiful, hilarious, disturbing and - yes, I'm going to say it - inspired.
The acting is uneven, but that just may be a casualty of the afore-praised stylistic reaching. Look, Rosanna Arquette is a fine actress - but she's not very good here, so a discriminating audience member does have to ask, "What happened?" It's weird that Diane Foster manages a simplicity and grace that so few of the other actors can come anywhere near. For example, I might seriously consider whatever explanation Farnsworth could provide for Michael T. Weiss's over-the-top turn as a probation officer, but I doubt I'd ever buy it; It Just Doesn't Work.
Then again, it's the most alive and in the moment that I've seen John Savage appear in years. So go figure.
This is the sort of work that tantalizes, but does not promise - and that's okay; neither Farnsworth nor anyone else is required to make movies. So, whether or not Farnsworth has another film in him remains to be seen, but if he does, it seems pretty likely that it won't be bland pap. In an age when people are planning their lives around the latest installment of "American Idol," perhaps we could allow, not scorn, Farnsworth's legitimate and undeniably flawed film.
What is more, perhaps we could welcome, not berate, his energetic and sometimes blessedly idiosyncratic imagination.
