Okay, here it is. "Writer and director James Toback (Black and White) explores a contemporary love triangle in this comedy/drama. When two girls (Heather Graham and Natasha Gregson Wagner) find themselves waiting outside an apartment building, they come to realize they're there to meet the same guy (Robert Downey Jr.)--who's been sleeping with them both! Armed with this knowledge, the girls break into the guy's apartment and prepare for the ambush."
This is a poop-encrusted, maggot-dropping stray dog. The acting was abysmal. The plot made me want to gouge my eyes out and curl up in a fetal position.
There is not enough money in the world to convince me to watch the "commentary."
I have sacrificed 90 minutes and a few million brain cells for you, dearest reader. Save yourselves, I will continue to hold Toback down until you are all in the clear.
This movie gets a big..fat..round...ZERO.
Tuesday, June 8, 2010
Monday, June 7, 2010
PETA Enthusiasts - Do Not Read.
The time has come to fortify myself yet again...for in my mailbox, today arrived...
Toback.
If you haven't had the, uh, PLEASURE of meeting James Toback via his body of work, please see the reviews for Black & White and The Pick-Up Artist.
Now- indulge my illustration, please.
Seven years ago, when I got married, I had a stray mutt named Claude. Claude hated being my dog almost as much as I hated being his master, but he was a stray and I took him in - so what was I to do? Just toss him back out into the street and "accidentally" back over him with my car? Never did that cross my mind.
Anyway, while my beloved and I were honeymooning, Claude spent his days out in the fenced yard. My kids would take the bus home, feed and water Claude, and then spend the night at their dad's. It was April, so both days and nights were well within the comfort zone. So far, so good.
At the close of the week, we came back home to find Claude's entire rear-end caked in poop. Upon closer examination, I had the distinct pleasure of discovering that not only was Claude packing around his own feces, but a substantial number of maggots as well. I, as the family matriarch, was faced with the dubious task of removing both from Claude.
I'm not sure if I possess the words to describe the way I felt as I stared down at that smelly, heave-inducing, maggot-leaching stray dog that I never really liked in the first place. All I can say is, upon realizing the contents of the Netflix envelope in my mailbox today, said emotion came rushing back at me as if riding on a wave of nausea - possessing all the power and force as would be produced by the unfettering of the Columbia River, or perhaps by Ms. Wal-Mart in a tankini riding Purple Haze at the waterpark. My knees actually went weak.
So here I sit with Toback. I don't have the energy today. Maybe tomorrow. Or Wednesday.
PS - After a few additional months of domestic bliss, Claude eventually hit the road again. I saw him once; he saw my car and ran in the other direction. Really.
Toback.
If you haven't had the, uh, PLEASURE of meeting James Toback via his body of work, please see the reviews for Black & White and The Pick-Up Artist.
Now- indulge my illustration, please.
Seven years ago, when I got married, I had a stray mutt named Claude. Claude hated being my dog almost as much as I hated being his master, but he was a stray and I took him in - so what was I to do? Just toss him back out into the street and "accidentally" back over him with my car? Never did that cross my mind.
Anyway, while my beloved and I were honeymooning, Claude spent his days out in the fenced yard. My kids would take the bus home, feed and water Claude, and then spend the night at their dad's. It was April, so both days and nights were well within the comfort zone. So far, so good.
At the close of the week, we came back home to find Claude's entire rear-end caked in poop. Upon closer examination, I had the distinct pleasure of discovering that not only was Claude packing around his own feces, but a substantial number of maggots as well. I, as the family matriarch, was faced with the dubious task of removing both from Claude.
I'm not sure if I possess the words to describe the way I felt as I stared down at that smelly, heave-inducing, maggot-leaching stray dog that I never really liked in the first place. All I can say is, upon realizing the contents of the Netflix envelope in my mailbox today, said emotion came rushing back at me as if riding on a wave of nausea - possessing all the power and force as would be produced by the unfettering of the Columbia River, or perhaps by Ms. Wal-Mart in a tankini riding Purple Haze at the waterpark. My knees actually went weak.
So here I sit with Toback. I don't have the energy today. Maybe tomorrow. Or Wednesday.
PS - After a few additional months of domestic bliss, Claude eventually hit the road again. I saw him once; he saw my car and ran in the other direction. Really.
Thursday, June 3, 2010
Review #50 - Back to School (1986)
Pause with me for a moment, dearest reader - 5 1/2 months into The Project, we are at #50. I don't think I've ever done any one thing 50 times in my entire life. Okay, I know what your mind automatically went to, and you should be ashamed of yourself. What would your mother think?
You see, science has transformed me into a dedicated, focused Woman of Valor who will stop at nothing until she has viewed...them...all.
Even this one with Rodney Dangerfield.
So, let's do it. Cue Netflix: "This wacky comedy stars Rodney Dangerfield as self-made millionaire Thornton Melon, who decides to get a better education and enrolls at son Jason's college. While Jason (Keith Gordon) struggles just to fit in with his snobbish fellow students, Thornton struggles to gain his son's respect - giving way to hilarious antics. Sally Kellerman co-stars as an English professor who encourages father and son to stick out their first year despite the odds."
You know what I loved about this movie? It was made in 1986. Okay, Oingo Boingo was in it. Hello. Keith "I thought I'd have a career after I starred in Christine, but I guess not" Gordon was in it. And, of course, Our Hero was in it, with his pre-capped cute little gap between his teeth.
Rodney Dangerfield was a dirtball, and guess what. In this movie - he was a dirtball. No big stretch.
However, I must confess - I did not want to gouge my eyes out, as I had anticipated I certainly would by minute 23. It had some cute little parts, if you pretend like you haven't already heard those Dangerfield zingers 50 thousand times. ("Hey, don't knock my wife. She gives good headache.")
I realized that I didn't see this movie when it was released back in 1986. In a Back to the Future-type moment, I guarantee you that if I had, my life would have been forever altered; because I would have fallen head over heels for Our Hero. He had whacked-out hair and dressed like Paul Revere and the Raiders. I was so totally into that in the 80's, I would have written him a letter proposing marriage on the spot, as soon as my braces came off and I could get to California.
But, alas, I didn't see the film. I didn't write the letter. Instead I watched Miami Vice. And look at me now...a rip in the time-space continuum and now I'm in the armpit of Washington instead of the pearl of California. Bummer, dude.
A number...a number. Well, I didn't want to hang myself during the credits, but it was still pretty pointless. I'll go with a 5.
You see, science has transformed me into a dedicated, focused Woman of Valor who will stop at nothing until she has viewed...them...all.
Even this one with Rodney Dangerfield.
So, let's do it. Cue Netflix: "This wacky comedy stars Rodney Dangerfield as self-made millionaire Thornton Melon, who decides to get a better education and enrolls at son Jason's college. While Jason (Keith Gordon) struggles just to fit in with his snobbish fellow students, Thornton struggles to gain his son's respect - giving way to hilarious antics. Sally Kellerman co-stars as an English professor who encourages father and son to stick out their first year despite the odds."
You know what I loved about this movie? It was made in 1986. Okay, Oingo Boingo was in it. Hello. Keith "I thought I'd have a career after I starred in Christine, but I guess not" Gordon was in it. And, of course, Our Hero was in it, with his pre-capped cute little gap between his teeth.
Rodney Dangerfield was a dirtball, and guess what. In this movie - he was a dirtball. No big stretch.
However, I must confess - I did not want to gouge my eyes out, as I had anticipated I certainly would by minute 23. It had some cute little parts, if you pretend like you haven't already heard those Dangerfield zingers 50 thousand times. ("Hey, don't knock my wife. She gives good headache.")
I realized that I didn't see this movie when it was released back in 1986. In a Back to the Future-type moment, I guarantee you that if I had, my life would have been forever altered; because I would have fallen head over heels for Our Hero. He had whacked-out hair and dressed like Paul Revere and the Raiders. I was so totally into that in the 80's, I would have written him a letter proposing marriage on the spot, as soon as my braces came off and I could get to California.
But, alas, I didn't see the film. I didn't write the letter. Instead I watched Miami Vice. And look at me now...a rip in the time-space continuum and now I'm in the armpit of Washington instead of the pearl of California. Bummer, dude.
A number...a number. Well, I didn't want to hang myself during the credits, but it was still pretty pointless. I'll go with a 5.
And Now a Word from Our Soldier...
So, after 94 angst-filled days of non-contact, I finally received an e-mail from my son in Bagdad. His excuse - nothing's going on, it's boring, nothing to say, so why write???
Write because your momma is gonna come after you with a big stick if you don't...assuming she doesn't end up in the asylum first. Write because I miss you. Write because we are both lonely.
Now I feel like I'm leaning more toward normal. My marriage is dead, but my son is back in the picture and work is going well. I'm figuring that 2 out of 3 areas is pretty good. If I were a ballplayer, I'd be the greatest there ever was with that kind of average.
Now I'm dealing with graduation. My third child graduates from high school this Saturday. We are awaiting the verdict on her student loans...and then, in just 3 short months, she's off to Denver.
No, dearest reader, I'm not sure how I feel about that. This is my third one to go...although my second didn't go far, as she still lives at home. But she's always at work, I never see her - so, mostly, she's gone. That leaves me and The Soloist here at the homestead, which isn't really a homestead, because it belongs to my husband, who could put me out whenever he wants.
Sigh.
And for the record - I still stand by my previous statement that things are still leaning toward normal.
Write because your momma is gonna come after you with a big stick if you don't...assuming she doesn't end up in the asylum first. Write because I miss you. Write because we are both lonely.
Now I feel like I'm leaning more toward normal. My marriage is dead, but my son is back in the picture and work is going well. I'm figuring that 2 out of 3 areas is pretty good. If I were a ballplayer, I'd be the greatest there ever was with that kind of average.
Now I'm dealing with graduation. My third child graduates from high school this Saturday. We are awaiting the verdict on her student loans...and then, in just 3 short months, she's off to Denver.
No, dearest reader, I'm not sure how I feel about that. This is my third one to go...although my second didn't go far, as she still lives at home. But she's always at work, I never see her - so, mostly, she's gone. That leaves me and The Soloist here at the homestead, which isn't really a homestead, because it belongs to my husband, who could put me out whenever he wants.
Sigh.
And for the record - I still stand by my previous statement that things are still leaning toward normal.
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