When Dylan (Neil Breen) was a young boy, he made friends with a little girl called Leah, and oh how they loved to wander the countryside together. One day, they found a mushroom under a tree, and it turned into a jewellery box Dylan opened then took out the black cube inside, causing some smoke to move across a nearby field. Leah meanwhile picked up some gemstones next to the box and decided to make a bracelet out of them, placing a few inside for luck. But the next day she had to go away as her father had a new job, and the last Dylan saw of his sweetheart was her hanging out of the car window for a couple of minutes, waving, as her father drove away at about one mile an hour...
Yes, well, you can tell from that synopsis Fateful Findings was not a conventional movie, and indeed if it had not been for a certain Tommy Wiseau whose The Room was standing supreme as the worst of the worst (must-see division) then perhaps the work of auteur Neil Breen would have won more interest from the bad movie lovers out there. Where he had the advantage over Wiseau was in numbers, for he had made a handful of mini-epics on a low budget, whereas his (possible) nemesis in the terrible stakes had but one turkey to his name, if you can call something that had by sheer power of anti-talent made that amount of profit a turkey. Breen remained an enigma too, however.
Apparently he was an architect who channelled his personal "fortune" into crafting his cinematic calling - yes, there was a theatrical release for these abominations - where he had something very important to tell the world, but the point and the coherence had gone astray somewhere along the way to wind up with these painfully stilted, barely professional efforts. Fateful Findings was the most high profile of these, and Breen found himself the centre of a very small cult of those who liked to send him up mercilessly, the sort of person who will tell you Citizen Kane is a load of rubbish in comparison to this mess-terpiece, and maybe half mean it in their aims to be cool by association.
Well, not cool exactly, there was nothing cool about this film, it barely made sense as it stuttered from one scene to the next as if the cast were heavily medicated to the extent they had no idea of how to behave like real people anymore. When we catch up with Dylan, he is a man in late middle age married to a pill-popping Polish wife (Klara Landrat), and has just been run over by a Rolls Royce, which no matter how slowly it was going has spattered his blood across its grille. He ends up in a coma, and wouldn't you know it, Leah (Jennifer Autry) is one of the doctors in the hospital, though they don't twig about this until halfway through, maybe because she is young enough to be his daughter now for reasons that go unexplained. This was the kind of movie where Dylan committing adultery with Leah while his wife commits suicide was meant to be hunky-dory.
