Anyhow,  Marky Mark and Christian Bale are teaming up for a new one called The Fighter. It’s based on the true story of boxer Mickey Ward. It could be decent, I guess. And if nothing else, it looks like Christian Bale has once again upped the anti in his physical transfiguration abilities. This time into a late 40s, sinewy, washed out, chewed up and spit out South Boston boxing coach. 

[youtube]http://www.eastvillageradio.com/[/youtube]

Movie career: 1976 – 1980 cool, hip (Staying Alive ends this era) 1981 – 1993 (The looks who’s talking too years) (Pulp Fiction!) Cool again – (Broken Arrow, why!? Why!?) 1996 – current back in the sucker. Recently: Son dies in a tragic, freak accident, wife get’s pregnant at a miraculously old age, both of his dogs are run over and killed at the fucking airport.

Behold.

Ok. Now for Drag Me To Hell.

As someone who has been dabbling–as they say–in screenwriting for the past year, I can rightfully tell you that ending a story is incredibly hard. Even with stories that are only half finished (like all of mine) just thinking about the ending can totally steam your brain. But that’s part of what sets a good writer apart from a bad one; the ability to end your story interstingly, regardless of how you see fit. Back to my screenwriting thing. While my scripts aren’t finished, I do spend a lot of time thinking about how to end the stories…with punch. But then I go and see a movie like Drag Me To Hell, which has gotten completely fellated by the film cognisenti, and see that the writer ( I assume) totally ended the story with a lame copout. I estimate 1 of 2 things happened. One, the writer was established enough that he or she could get away with selling a story that was kind of half baked. This, though, would eventually wreck your career, I’d imagine. Or, two, the hook and concept of the movie was determined to have major box office potential. In wich case, they were given some leniency when it came to shortcomings in the story. I’m not saying a story can be bad, but I do think that when you’ve got movies like Paul Bart Mall Cop whatever the fuck coming out, it can cause an unproven screenwriter like me to question the time they’re putting into developing (I hate myself for saying this) craft.

Whatever. I’ve had a bit too much beer. If you’re still reading, then tough shit, ’cause there ain’t no ending.

Here. Enjoy this. My golf swing.

Best part of weekend: The poolboy who was cleaning a pool in the backyard of one of the mansions that abutted the golf course and absolutely blaring Livin’ La Vida Loca. The wind was blowing especially hard and was carrying the sound loud and far for all to hear. It was the perfect moment.

Here’s a great line from one of my favorite movies, Slapshot, delivered by the movie’s biggest pervert, (of which there are many) Morris ‘Mo’ Wanchuk. This is right after the team finds out they’re being moved to Florida. I might add that at the time Slapshot was made the thought of moving a hockey team to Florida was laughable. Who’d of guessed there would eventually be 2 teams there.

 "Hell, here's to the Sunshine State!" 

 "Here's to all that gorgeous snatch in FLA." 

 "Yeah!"

And here quickly is one of the best scenes from Slapshot. The dialog is pretty progressively risque; definitely not something you could get away with today.

Holy fuck, in a pile of vomit, wrapped in a crust of horse shit does this movie suck balls on a level I didn’t know was possible.  I thought PhD’s were required to suck balls at this caliber, but apparently only a stupid hipster name is needed.  Now first things first, yes there are way worse movies out there, but this movie won awards and was received quite well by the press and my peers.

If I had to sum up this movie in one sentence it would be, “Imagine if an unfunny 14 year old girl wrote an entire script on her cell phone and some dumb fucks actually green-lit the movie”.
That is Juno in a nutshell.  Well so what we all text on our phones, how bad could it be? You know 4Rlz, omg, can’t be that bad 4sure?

Well my friends, it gets much worse. There is the already mentioned near constant indie music raping your ears causing you to have self doubts, because you know the music eats asshole but the music is hip and cool. Maye you aren’t hip or cool, maybe a 30 year knit-sock wearing whore named Brook Busey (aka Diablo Cody.  Fuck you twat, I am not gonna call you by your “pen name”.  Pen names have traditionally been reserved when authors want to mask their gender, distance themselves from their body of work, or protect themselves from controversial material.  The only thing controversial about Brook Busey is that she has yet to be stoned to death) knows more about music than you do.  This entire mind fuck is happening within the first 30 seconds of this abortion of a movie.  Shit, I wish Juno did get an abortion so it would have been trimmed to only 15 IQ reducing minutes.

But wait! Michael Cera and Jason Bateman are in the film, we are all saved! Arrested Development kicked ass, I am sure they can save this “quirky romp” of a film.  Nope, not even close, the writer of this film, (see knit-sock wearing whore) decided it too difficult to actually create new compelling characters so she just poached the exact personalities from Arrested.  The problem is, instead of getting Shania Twain live, you get Shania Twin, Canada’s number one Shania Twain impersonator.  Everything seems phoned in (ha! like the script, damn I am clever) The two never even share a scene together that would maybe generate some classic Cera-Bateman chemistry.

The gale force winds in this perfect storm of suck is the dialogue.  The dialogue flows like a Rodney Dangerfield stand up routine in which everything is meant to be a one liner, but instead of broads and boners you get pregs and hamburger phones.  These ne’er funny one liners are also delivered with the subtly of  Rodney Dangerfield’s famous Caddy Shack character Al Czervik.  The dialogue in this film is a constant reminder that the script was written by a two-penny harlot who is clearly desperate to seem hip and relevant as her wrinkly minge hits 30.

I don’t hate people for liking this film, to each his own, but to go around giving this shit sandwich 44 awards is going too far, about 44 awards and sans one stoning too far.  Juno is complete and utter shit.  Days have passed since my viewing/brain sodomy of this movie and I am still so puzzled and angry.  How did no one I know flip out when they saw this? How could so many people I share similar taste with not feel like I do?  Seriously, am I the only one who thinks this is a shoe in for one of the worst movies ever to win an Oscar?

-Anthony

edit: sorry for the initial odd layout and missing text. There was a weird html code error.  should be fine now.

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