Intended to parody overindulgent cop-dramas such as "Point Break" and more recently, "The Italian Job," "MCF2" tells the story of a city imperiled by the evil Geen Gocken, a Rubenesque, jean-short sporting reprobate who threatens to infest the city water supply with Tick-Tock-A-Nique, a toxin that will transform the hairstyle of all who ingest it into the odious form known as a mullet.
The great duty of preventing such a pandemic is left to the agents of the Mullet Control Force, a government-sponsored sleuthing outfit replete with all the proper types-Agent Skip, the up-and-coming, hot-shot womanizer; Agent Beeongoleen, the garrulous and overly ethnic Italian; Agent O'Toole, the innocent but fickle good-guy who has been turned to the dark side. Back from retirement are Agents Diguello (played by McMullen himself) and Smith, the legendary and once unstoppable mullet-controlling team.
The film's 100 minutes are filled with moments of incisive dialogue, parodic action sequences and dry wit, not to mention a few laughably improbable plot twists-all in spite of the rough quality of the picture. Transitions are sometimes choppy, volume levels sometimes inconsistent and frames sometimes unfocused. Yet, these should come as no surprise given the film's low budget-or more aptly, as McMullen has termed it, "no budget." With the exception of a single handheld Sony digital camera, no purchases were made for the film. No actors were paid. In fact, all were friends and family. No editors were paid. No equipment was purchased-not even a shotgun microphone. The camera was moved, during action sequences, with a wheelchair.
Indeed, the film was a grassroots effort to the very last feather. McMullen was forced to film entirely on nights and weekends when summer jobs let out, and entirely in Bergen County where the cast resides. Not that the film was ever a peripheral concern. In fact, McMullen estimates that he spent over 250 hours filming alone. "I would have done anything for this film, and I was amazed at what other people were willing to do," he said.
In the end, the fruition of their efforts must have warranted some deal of pride. Over 500 people crammed into the small Ridgewood theater, sold past capacity, in northern New Jersey to see the film's premier on Thanksgiving weekend. An instant of celebrity was theirs. And best of all, those willing to look past the grainy film and wavering sound quality were able to perceive the momentary flash of directorial acuity, the obscure glimmer of cinematographic command. The humor, though at times little more than an ode to Three Stooges-style slapstick (and well carried out, at that), often showcased McMullen's keen perspicacity and subtle mind. It was an auspicious debut for a filmmaker whom we will see, mark my word, on the big screen in the coming years.