The DVD:
M. Pinot Grigio (the first initial standing for, of course, Merlot) is Barleyville's local wine tycoon, and he's sick and tired of losing his market share of the town's tipsiness to Al, and his family tavern. Seems the entire population of this sudsy suburb is enamored of the bar, it's personable staff (bartender Bob Drummond, waitress Dorris and proverbial screw-up Trent "Giant Balls" Dawkins) and its heady draft brew. So just like all legitimate businessmen, Grigio develops the Beer Evaporator, a mad scientist like device that dries up the town's supply of suds. When it's activated, Barleyville is suddenly Coors cold turkey and, wouldn't you know it, Grigio is right there to fill the potent potable void. He advertises his grape-based repast and it looks like the population will turn from hops heads to winos within the week. But our vintage villain didn't count on Bob and Trent. Armed with a case of Al's special ale, our pint pullers turn crime fighters as one sip of the pop with foam on top turns them into superheroes. Soon, it's an all out war between the champions of Chablis and the protectors of Pilsner as the perplexed people of Barleyville must decide which is superior: Grigio and his evil fruit of the vine or Bob and Trent's pony kegged Beer Muscles

. One of the hardest genres for a homemade movie to succeed in is the comedy. Since it requires a great deal of screenwriting skill, professional performer timing and a keen knowledge of the more universal tenets of wit, the balancing act toward triumph and travesty is precarious. After all, someone's absolute rib-tickler is another man's morbid monologue and even the best-written jokes can fall flat in the hands of an acting hack. So when Chicago-based independent filmmaker Griffin Marks decided to celebrate his favorite beverage, the incredibly malty draft known as beer, he made a crucial creative judgment call. Since he and his low budget film company, Balls Productions could not afford high production value or the more mainstream of moviemaking memorabilia, he would incorporate the crudity into his creation. And you know what? It almost works. For about 45 minutes, Beer Muscles is one of the dumbest, more delightful outsider movies ever made. Taking a premise that only a pickled picture maker could concoct and combining it with an "F" the system swagger, this stupid spoof of the buddy/action/superhero varieties is constantly swinging for the cheap seats, and hitting hammy homeruns a great deal of the time. The fact that it goes flat after a while is only par for the course for a film based in brewskis.

Still, while it's clicking, Beer Muscles is freak show fun. The fictional town of Barleyville is filled with the kind of well-observed characters that border on the braindead, and seeing them interact in the obvious basement "set" of Al's Bar is fertile ground for foolishness. Especially memorable is the big bear of a city official, known as Mayor Steve, who is desperate to win the coveted beer drinker of the month honors. As the absent minded, under the influence police officer, Sheriff Bentley, actor Steve Sherwin has the drunken dunderhead demeanor down pat. Other excellent ancillary elements include the occasional on the spot news reporting that makes high school media classes look like CNN, a twisted tennis match, and the inspired lunacy of several of Grigio's world domination monologues. Had it stayed on track and not tried to swear over into some manner of fight scene action piece (the fisticuffs are rather pathetic) and had the ending been a little stronger, Beer Muscles would have won a special place in the pantheon of hilarious home made movies (where, currently, amazing examples of no-budget anarchy like Trailer Town and Midnight Skater exist). But instead, this movie shanghais its surprises to crack the carefully concocted creativity.

In the main roles here, filmmaker Marks (as the very epitome of short man's syndrome, the inept villain Grigio) and the rest of his cast are capable of greatness. As Bob Drummond, our bartender turned action man, Bill Booker is a husky hoot, looking like he's incapable of tipping an elbow without getting winded, let alone fighting crime. Carmen Jessee, as Dorris Dooley, upends her Goth girl looks to play perky and resourceful with the right amount of laugh-inspired deadpan. Without a doubt, however, the most memorable moments come at the hands, and constantly referenced nutsack, of Matt McGuire as the appropriately named Trent "Giant Balls" Dawkins. With line readings resonating from another solar system and a demeanor that suggests the tail end of a heavily seeded marijuana high, McGuire becomes the cartoon necessary to sell Beer Muscles silliness. Together with the other non-professionals making up the majority of the company, Marks manages to keep his comedy lively and fresh. Sure, there are instances where the material and the emoter don't mix (for all his jock meets serial killer shtick, McGuire can't play anything very straight) and Mark's script occasionally fails to deliver the necessary chuckles. Still, for a movie made on a shoestring and carved out of the imagination of an amateur alcohol-lover, Beer Muscles is very enjoyable.

So, where's the bet hedging, you ask? Why isn't Beer Muscles getting a stark raving recommendation? Well, the answer is simple – and frankly, it's what plagues most independent productions: the lack of follow through. You see, most outsider productions are the product of a singular, or group, ideal and there is a failure to take into consideration the amusement requirements of the rest of the world. Basically, the argument can be boiled down to whatever makes one group laugh/scared/cry won't necessarily spawn the same in others. Horror and drama can be pretty universal, but humor is hard. It's far too personal to play wide. And honestly, Beer Muscles intermittently regales itself in self-satisfied insularity. For instance, the entire Willy Knuckles hiring/firing sidekick stuff is just dumb. It is never funny and actor Jesse Dunstan is too stone-faced to deliver delirium; he's playing a corpse, not a sedate cut-up. Also, the mafia based training film and the eventual arrival of the hitman character, Jimmy Scorpio, fails to be clever. It's too obvious and never really pays off as a premise. Additionally, instead of keeping the entire town of non-tea totalers at the center of the story, Marks tosses them off to the side, failing to utilize their unique personas to support his shenanigans. Probably one or two rewrites away from absolute brilliance, Beer Muscles does miss the mark every once in a while.

Still, as the work of a group of friends and accomplices, Beer Muscles proves the adage that you don't need fancy production values or even professional working environments to create a good, honest movie – albeit more of the "home" variety than anything else. Through a combination of common purpose, auteur-ish insight and an overall desire to entertain, writer/director Griffin Marks and his boisterous band of kegmiesters have found an interesting manner in which to celebrate their love of liquor. Avoiding the obvious drunk jokes while sometimes steering into uncharted, unfunny territory, Beer Muscles is still a 12 pack of party heartiness just waiting to be cracked open. Fans of films that fail to take themselves too seriously and only want to make you lose your lunch with laughter may be swayed to swill a few after partaking of this particular mug-ful. But don't be fooled by looks or lager brand: Beer Muscles is a fun, if flawed film. It will definitely bloat your belly with heavily hopped goodness. But just like any time you try to 'tie one on', you may feel like crap afterward.

The Video:
Looking very much like a no budget shot on a camcorder creation Beer Muscles is barely passable in the area of professional transfers. The 1.33:1 image is clean and absent many of the obvious video flaws – flaring, bleeding, halos – that make such self-shot cinema so suspect. But the overall look is flat and muddy, with a complete lack of detail-defining contrasts. Overall the picture is passable, but doesn't add anything aesthetically to the presentation.

The Audio:
Relying on several superb punk/pop anthems by extremely interesting unsigned acts, the soundtrack to Beer Muscles is amazing. The Dolby Digital Stereo serves these sonic marvels well and the overall mix is up front and clean. Dialogue suffers from occasional dropout and we do lose some voices in a wave of background noise. But overall, the aural attributes of this DVD are excellent.

The Extras:
Since Beer Muscles is a self-financed and distributed title, Griffin Marks and Balls Productions stay with the lo-fi concept and deliver a bare bones "screener" of the movie for review. One assumes that if it got picked up for major distribution, either by a mainstream studio (say, Lion's Gate) or a lower tier company (say, Tempe or Troma) there would be the ability to add some bonus content. Especially interesting would be a commentary or behind the scenes featurette discussing the production. While the copy provided for review did provide a few commemorative fridge magnets (pretty cool) and a swell drinking game (just a card with instructions, actually) here's hoping a more "official" release pads out the packaging.

Final Thoughts:
There are those who will think that completely independent productions like Beer Muscles get cut some manner of critical slack because of the adversity they had to overcome to realize their vision. But the reality is far less favorable. In many ways, a movie like Beer Muscles suffers under the analytical light for those very reasons. It takes tremendous talent and a real desire to succeed to overcome such production obstacles and Beer Muscles almost makes it. From its unconventional premise to its rather routine finale, this film functions best when it's ignoring the requirements of rationality and grooving on its own goofy mojo. But whenever it swerves into standard plot point territory, it stalls its surreal energy. Griffin Marks and his solid cast of stein hoisters have delivered a delicious, pungent concoction, full bodied and robust. But there is still a bitter aftertaste that comes from a less than complete fermentation. Had the ideas had more time to age and settle, Beer Muscles would be a much better, much funnier film. But as it stands, it's a clever, corny boilermaker, excellent especially when enjoyed in moderation. Cheers!

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