A bathtub wallow in teenage narcissism. John Wisdom (Estevez), convicted of drunk driving at eighteen, finds it tough getting a decent job. Five years later, he's still living with Mom and Pop, and spending a great deal of time in front of the mirror (but it's OK folks, he's got a girl). Fired from Cityburger for lying, he opts for a career in felony. A TV programme on the social effects of bank foreclosure shows him what to do. Armed with home-made bombs, our suburban guerilla holds up banks, not for megabucks but to destroy all traces of mortgage agreements. With his chick (Moore) as chauffeuse, he travels the road pursued by the FBI. The cute couple become public heroes. It all ends in tears. As Wisdom (the name represents the single feeble attempt at irony), Estevez demonstrates an undeniable charisma, but in the roles of writer and director he is less successful. What initiative there is in this retread gets swamped by silliness, slackness and sentiment.