Chapter 27

Jared Leto would no doubt like you to think of Robert DeNiro’s turn in Raging Bull as he does his turn in Chapter 27. Ballooning quite larger than his normally epicene frame, he also works overtime in suggesting the unhinged mind of Mark David Chapman (the man who shot Lennon). Too bad his performance is the floridly ridiculous cherry on the top of a terrible movie. Leto’s Chapman is a series of twitches, intent stares, guilty glances and other obvious signifiers of crizazyness. To be fair, the script doesn’t give him much else to go on beyond wishing he was loved by Lindsay Lohan and hobnobbing with fellow autograph hound Judah Friedlander. He tells lies about his identity, which of course occasions Chapman getting oh-so-intense, and there is some internal monologue voiceover that tries to get you associating this with Taxi Driver. Needless to say, this ain’t Scorsese. The film is nothing more than a lurid exploitation of tragedy in the service of shamelessly flogging a weirdo. Whatever you think of Chapman’s crime, director J.P. Schaefer is less interested in dealing with his subject than in finding a freak he can pity and mock without fear of molestation. This would be depressing if it weren’t so ridiculous and Leto’s hilarious fare thee well ensures that you can’t take things seriously on any level other than camp. It’s a pretty amazing example of delusional behaviour, so much so that it ceases to be about Chapman and becomes a documentary of an actor eager to please while doomed to fail. Extras include a short "making of” featurette in which Leto explains his technique, describes his approach to Chapman and embarrasses himself more times than previously thought possible in under ten minutes.