I haven’t had time to write reviews of all the movies I liked this year, so this is my half-assed attempt at penance. And before you start bitching about how great Wanted is, I didn’t see it so I can’t include it. Maybe it’ll make the end of the year list.
Number 9 (*drumroll, cymbal crash, dick helicopter*):
Forgetting Sarah Marshall. This one I did review. Not a total success, and Jason Segel was really the only believable character. But the man was still pretty entertaining as a one-man show, and I respect anyone who goes full frontal for comedy. I don’t even take my underwear off in the shower.
Iron Man. Plot? Originality? Character Development? F-ck you, rocket arms. Without Robert Downey Jr. I think this might have been a total disaster, but he’s that good. Less like an A movie than a C movie that pissed its name on the moon.
The Dark Knight. What can I say that hasn’t already been said? 3/4ths of the way through I was actually begging for it to end, not because I was bored, but because I was white knuckling it so hard. Its strength was that it was a clusterf-ck. Everyone had different motives, kind of like life. Like right now, I want to steal your picnic basket, and you just want to have lunch. Put us together and Pow! non-stop adventure.
Tropic Thunder. To explain the appeal of this movie, do I really need to go deeper than the Full Retard Scene? There’s a reason I put it in caps. ‘Pecker” is Matthew McConnaughey’s best role since Dazed and Confused. But I don’t care what anyone says, anyone with half a semester of high school drama could’ve done a better job than Tom Cruise. Wearing makeup is not acting. And the part with him dancing through the credits made me want to pull my guts out my asshole with a claw hammer.
Choke. Forty minutes into this, I thought it had made the classic book adaptation mistake of having every plot development be revealed through two people yapping. The last third makes up for the first two, trust me. (With anal beads.)
Burn After Reading. I laughed every time Brad Pitt was onscreen. Do not believe the mixed reviews. The Big Lebowski got mixed reviews too. For some reason, people are still averse to the idea that a screwball comedy shouldn’t have people getting hacked to death with an axe. Those people are called dickweeds.
In Bruges. It’s easy to see why this never really caught on: you spend the whole movie wondering what the hell kind of film it is. It’s not quite Guy Ritchie, it’s not quite a comedy, and God knows what the hell Ralph Fiennes is doing. But that’s part of the fun, it defies categorization. Plus, Colin Farrell karate chops a midget. How can you go wrong?
Wall E. Those f-ckers at Pixar. I don’t know how they do it, but they can make an old tennis shoe adorable. The two leads have about 50 times the chemistry of Kate Hudson and Matthew McConnaughey. And beyond that, it’s really well written. You don’t have to be high when you see it, but it helps. It’s basically the cinematic equivalent of petting a lab puppy. That’s a good boy, oh you’re so soft! Crap, I just creeped you out, didn’t I.
Gonzo: The Life and Work of Dr. Hunter S. Thompson: It went in my eyes and shit happiness in my brain. Want to watch Hunter S. Thompson snort coke before an interview and blow the crap out of inanimate objects? Hear the original audio records from Fear and Loathing in Las Vegas? If you answered no to either of these questions, I hate you and I want you to die.