Jared Leto has packed on a good 700 pounds to play the role
of Salinger savant and Beatle murderer Mark David Chapman in J.P.
Schaefer’s directorial debut—which might as well be titled
Bridget Jones’ Diary 3: John Lennon Was a Goddamn Phony. Leto
lisps and paunches his way through Schaefer’s film, spewing entire
paragraphs from Catcher in the Rye—always about ducks and
movies and actors and, of course, those phonies—all while
channeling Travis Bickle and Truman Capote (or maybe Philip Seymour
Hoffman playing Capote), and, overall, doing a pretty knock-up job of
not being Jordan Catalano.
Centered around the time Chapman moved to New York and started
stalking Lennon outside of Lennon’s apartment building, the Dakota,
Chapter 27 focuses on Chapman’s inner monologue of crazy talk
and Holden Caulfied-isms to provide a running narrative to what would
otherwise be a series of alternately depressing and funny “fat Jared
Leto’s got a gun” montages.
Although a case could be made against the film’s slow pace and
derivative mimicry, Schaefer winks and nods at the audience so often
it’s hard to believe that it all isn’t part of the plan. In one scene,
while waiting outside the Dakota, Chapman meets a girl named Jude
(OBVIOUSLY), played by that smoker-voiced Lindsay Lohan, as well as a
paparazzo named Paul (30 Rock’s Judah Friedlander). During a
conversation about Rosemary’s Baby having been filmed in the
building, Jude expresses her dislike for that film: “Nothing ever
really happens until the end,” she says. It feels like a welcome
acknowledgment from Schaefer: “You see what I did there? I know you’re
a little bored and fidgety right now, but hang tight!” Jude’s sentiment
also possibly echoes criticisms of Catcher in the Rye,
concerning Holden’s mounting disillusionment—which ultimately
leads to a somewhat anticlimactic crack-up, but not to the promised
hint of suicide. (Other criticisms of Catcher in the Rye include
Winona Ryder carrying it around in her tiny back pocket as a mopey
teenager, and also Wes Anderson probably masturbating to it. But I
digress.)
Leto’s performance—aided immeasurably by his marvel of a
belly—is totally worth watching, making Chapter 27 not
only a better film than last year’s slllooooow The Killing of John
Lennon, but also a convincing argument for the Keep Jared Leto Fat
and Marginally Talented movement.