Hollywood loves to portray nouveau riche southern California guys in Porsches and Ferraris driving like complete douchebags. And it doesn’t get much douchier than what James Woods’ and Jeff Bridges’ characters are doing here, spawning countless imitators (on and off both big and small screens) in the process, as well as prompting the question, does life imitate art, or does art imitate life?
It does make for some mildly entertaining cinema, though.
