Barry Crimmins is pissed. His hellfire brand of comedy has rained verbal lightning bolts on American audiences and politicians for decades, yet you've probably never heard of him. Barry Crimmins was a volatile but brilliant bar comic who became an honored peace activist and influential political satirist. Famous comedians and others build a picture of a man who underwent an incredible transformation.
The most interesting thing Call Me Lucky does is build up a character we may have been unfamiliar with at the start of the film, only to break him down again to give him even more complexity.
"Call Me Lucky" will be an especially grueling ride for those who can identify with Crimmins' trauma. Yet its toughness does not at all diminish its worth. It remains an essential viewing experience.
It's a wild ride for about half the movie. Then it becomes something else altogether. Being from Boston I was familiar with Crimmins' story, but I still wasn't ready for how deep the film cut.
As Goldthwait repeatedly returns to footage of a recent performance by Crimmins, in which he's introduced as a great entertainer, all we see are the aimless rants of a self-righteous blowhard.
If it accomplishes nothing else, the new documentary Call Me Lucky should bring some welcome attention to a man who's been under the radar for the past few decades, mostly by his own design.
Like 'World's Greatest Dad' and 'God Bless America,' its hero is a malcontent ultimately driven by his belief is human potential, often wasted though it may be.
Crimmins proves to be a courageous activist, gifted artist and gentle friend ... and Goldthwait films him with the skill, love and dedication that his dear mentor deserves.
