Buzzard

Buzzard is among the first great American satires of the 21st century, its scathing indictment of capitalism delivered as a prolonged, disorienting punchline.

With its casual deadpan attitude, Buzzard offers a nightmare portrait of arrested development and anomie for the age of inequality.

Love it, hate it or tolerate it with reluctance, Buzzard has a ruthless clarity of vision, and breaks new ground in pushing character-based comedy right to the edge of profound discomfort.

As Marty continues to run scams, the laughs continue unabated, but the dread only deepens, because we realize he’s a creature of need, capable of anything but empathy. And he’s been pushed to the precipice.

This is a study of a man who's hard to like, harder to dismiss, and impossible to pigeonhole.

Giving not an inch to any sort of readable moral paradigm, this third installment in Potrykus’ Grand Rapids-set animal trilogy (including his 2010 short “Coyote” and his 2012 feature “Ape”) proves as fascinating as it is off-putting.

Think of Marty as an R-rated Napoleon Dynamite — foul-mouthed, irritating, irritable, self-absorbed and clueless. He’s also a bit dangerous, the personification of the bird that gives his filmed story its title — Buzzard.

A total waste of time. It's not an anti-corporate screed. It's not a funny office slacker movie. And as for the paranoia, it is lame lame lame. A joke. When was this movie actually made? A Freddie Krueger prop? The slacker himself has zero personality or humor. He's a dud, a fake Steve Buscemi wanna be. His office sidekick might as well be a stapler or a hole punch. He contributes that much to an already drearily dull story. Did I say story? Just kidding. Unless watching someone for five movie minutes eat a plate of spaghetti is enough plot for you. And don't worry. There's plenty of movie time watching both drips play a video game. Novel, right? Am I being harsh? Go ahead. See it. Then you tell me.