Slacker is like My Dinner With Andre, but instead of a conversation between two guys over dinner, it is a basically a series of connected monologues made by the denizens of Austin, Texas in 1990, including an anarchist who befriends a guy trying to rob his house, an old man lamenting mortality into his microphone, stoners discussing bribery in Scooby-Doo and collectivism in Smurf Village, anti-artists, the idea that Elvis could still be alive and existing in a spiritual hell of self-parody in Las Vegas, an amateur scholar of JFK assassination theories, a guy who has locked himself in a room with multiple TVs (including one he wears), a guy who films himself shooting (firing a gun at) the camera, and a really annoying person trying to sell Madonna's Pap smear.
There is no plot to speak of, as the camera follows a constantly changing lineup of characters in what could be a documentary, except no one rambles without a purpose. The ending is UNLIKE ANY IN THE HISTORY OF CINEMA, or at least I haven't seen any other films that end like this. Since no one reads this blog (YET) I will spoil the ending. The penultimate character is a "post-modern Paul Revere" (labeled so in the credits) who is basically a grungy dude driving a car and speaking into a megaphone about the weapons he is giving away for free: "automatic weapons, side-loaders, clip loaders, shoot-em backs, saturday night specials, colt 45s, shotguns anything you want, chains, knives, straight razors, bottles, brickbats, baseball bats and big pointed jagged kinda things, boiling oil, catapults throwing rocks and shit." He is followed by a group of teenagers in a car, several of whom are filming with handheld cameras. They go up a mountain, party, throw stuff around, then one of them tosses a camera off the side of the mountain, which continues to film on the way down. Roll credits with Butthole Surfers music.
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