Inglourious Basterds (2009, dir. Quentin Taran-Fucking-tino)

INT. JOLIE-PITT MANSION - NIGHT
Fade in on Brad Pitt. He presses END on his cell phone. He catches his reflection in the framed Rothko that hangs in his bathroom. He is handsome, rugged but years edge lines around his eyes reminding him that Time is a Cruel Mistress and even his beauty cannot tame her.

BRAD PITT

Hey Ange! ANGE!

ANGELINA JOLIE (O.S.)

Jesus Fucking Christ, Brad! What the fuck is it?

BRAD PITT

You won't believe who just called.

ANGELINA JOLIE (O.S.)

Oh cock-sucking shit, Brad. Am I supposed to flipping guess?

BRAD PITT

I'm trying to tell you something exciting, Ange. Something exciting just happened and you're acting like a See You Next Tuesday before I've even told you anything.

Angelina Jolie enters. She's completely naked but for a pair of cut-off jean shorts. She has poop all over her hands.

ANGELINA JOLIE

You know what happened to me just a second ago? I was elbow-deep in twin-shit and I thought to myself: "Self, gorgeous self, you know what I would love right now? I would love SOMEBODY of their volition to go out and get diapers without me having to ASK. And then I would choke on SOMEBODY's cock for the next 30 minutes. Because I love feeling SOMEBODY's beautiful man-piece hit the back of my throat. Over. And over again. " But... no. SOMEBODY needs to tell me about their

(poopy air quotes)

"phone call".

BRAD PITT

That was Quentin Tarantino. He wants me to play the lead in his next film. His sixth film. Can you believe the guy's only made six films?

ANGELINA JOLIE

I count seven.

BRAD PITT

Oh, Ange. Kill Bill is one masterpiece that was ruthlessly released as two because of conventional movie-going practices. If this were the 70s, there would have had an intermission. I mean, it's gonna be called "Inglourious Basterds" but it's gonna be spelled wrong. Because SCREW spelling. And it's a World War II movie but it's done Tarantino-style. Because SCREW World War II. So, you know... it'll be splashes of horrifically funny violence mixed in with delicately written scenes where all suspense is spun with dialogue because SCREW film being a visual medium. And, yes, there will be almost every single signature Tarantino bit (like kind of uncomfortable foot fetish moment, long continuous one-shot of a party scene, inexplicable flashbacks to explain characters, title font that gives me a headache but minus the POV shot from inside a car trunk. Because they didn't have cars in 1944. Plus, SCREW cars.) And, also, it'll take place in a vaccuum where any humanity that characters might have had will be smashed to the ground with encyclopedic film references, unnecessary soundtrack choices and a general misanthrophic malaise Tarantino's developed over years of smoking pot and wiping money on his balls. I doubt he even remembers what it's like to be human. In fact, I bet he was replaced years ago with a film android who hears "Holocaust" and thinks "Pabst". Not Jews. You know why? SCREW jews! Harvey Weinstein told him it was fine to market the entire fantasy-wack-off-session as a Jewish wish-fulfillment movie. Harvey said that the American public are sheep and will be so enthralled with watching the finale: a theater of trapped Nazis burning alive. That people'll completely forget that millions of Jews were actually tortured and burned alive and they'll cheer. By the way, He and Tarantino don't care about humanity or the impact they have on culture as long as they have it. They're geniuses who survives on cigarette butts and children. And they'll rot in hell for eternity and they just doesn't CARE.

(long sigh)

I envy that. So... I think I'm gonna say "yes".

ANGELINA JOLIE

Whatever. Why did he call you?

BRAD PITT

What do you mean?! He wrote the part for me. I even get to do my "Thelma & Louise" accent.

ANGELINA JOLIE

Oh yeah. Sure, Brad. You make the same face in every movie. I'm sure the guy who directed arguably the most important film of a generation thought of you first.

BRAD PITT

Who else would he call?

Angelina makes a "you know who" face.

BRAD PITT

(in tears)

Oh man. That hurts, Ange.

SMASH CUT TO:

INT. DEPP-PARADIS MANSION - NIGHT
Vanessa Paradis holds the phone away from her ear.

VANESSA PARADIS
(French accent)

Johnny? Phone!

Johnny Depp, in a cowboy hat, enters rolling a cigarette.

JOHNNY DEPP

Is it Tim?

VANESSA PARADIS
(French accent)

No. It is not Tim Burton. It's Quentin Tarantino.

JOHNNY DEPP

I don't understand. I called Tim like a week ago and he hasn't called me back. Should I be worried? I don't know. I'm probably freaking out for no reason. But he's usually so good about getting back to me.

(exhales loudly)

ANYWAY, I'm gonna go skinny-dipping in the Mediterrean and do some peyote. If Tim calls let him know I thought of like twelve amazing children's books we can turn into unnecessary movies. Also, I left my "Ultra-Violence Violet" eye-liner at his house. Ask him if he's seen it. Max Factor discontinued the color.

VANESSA PARADIS
(French accent)

What should I tell Quentin?

JOHNNY DEPP

Tell him you don't speak English, honey. I love you! Mwah!

Funny People (2009, dir. Judd Apatow) or "Don't Blame This Dude for the Fact that Women Aren't Funny"

Hey! What's up, Judd!? Can I call you that? You seem so approachable. Plus you're named after a villain in a Rogers and Hammerstein musical which is fucking awesome. I wanna name my kid "Sky Masterson" after Marlon Brando's character in Guys and Dolls. And when people ask me why I would do such a heinous thing to a defenseless child I'll respond: "Remember when you all ate up everything that fucking Apatow guy did for a couple of years without thinking twice? What was his first name?" And they'll look at me blankly and then slink back to their electric cars or army tanks or whatever it is we are driving in the future.

So what's up, Judd?! You released Funny People and it killed John Hughes! I'm kidding. Not really. Back in 2007 I exposed your Macbeth-esque plot to overtake the Hughes throne of "Formulating a New Profitable Film Genre via a Demographic-Specific Commentary Focusing on the Middle Class and Battle of the Sexes". And the only reason I didn't catch it sooner was because I was pretending I'd seen 40-Year-Old Virgin for a solid two years. So in order to land your death blow. You made what the studio could only describe as "the third film from Judd Apatow" and it sent bolts of Emperor Palpatine Lighting into the eye-sockets of John Hughes who was over this shit anyway and opted to spend eternity singing "Twist and Shout" on that big parade float in the sky.

Funny People could have been a GOOD movie. It could have been an OKAY movie. But ultimately it could have been a seriously GREAT movie. All joking aside, Apatow does have a legitimate creative talent for arrestingly realistic moments. Moments in which Apatow catches you off-guard and you're feeling something you might only otherwise feel in peaks or valleys of your emotional life. And that is RARE in movies that open as big as Apatow's do to have moments like that. But they are only MOMENTS.  And in the past two Apatow films, these moments seemed to be as carefully framed as his comic set pieces.  However after seeing Funny People I wonder if those lines, beats and even casual looks (from the always impressive and unexpectedly affecting Adam Sandler) that took my breath momentarily away were little more than a gourmet spice flecked and scattered on the carcass of roadkill.

Before we go any further. Let's address the "Apatow hates women" issue. Ok. Apatow definitely DOES NOT hate women.  He absolutely does not.  Apatow LOVES women.  Especially his wife, Leslie Mann.  Why else would he sabotage an otherwise fantastic movie by devoting its second half to a completely unnecessary B Story (or at that point C or D Story) involving her?

I would say that, rather than hating women, Apatow just does not find women funny.  At all.  And therefore has no idea how to write them.  And who can blame him really?  Does he hang out with any funny women?  Has he or any of his collaborators encountered a woman who was humorous and insightful?  Judging from his penchant for casting feckless, obnoxious and preening blondes (Mann, Heigl and Banks), I am gravely doubtful.  Actually I think the main reason he doesn't find women funny is because he is afraid to portray them as flawed.

Over the course of an Apatow film, the comedy springs eternal from the male lead's inability to be a man.  His central struggle and the comic riffs hinge on the protagonist's flaws.  His ineptitude at doing something as simple as losing his virginity.  His doofy attempts to be a father despite the fact that a paternal role is something he discounted as part of the male experience until that point.  And with Adam Sandler in Funny People, Apatow creates (or at least showcases) his most complex anti-hero yet.  A comedian version of Citizen Kane.  A funny man locked away in his Xanadu spending sleepless nights wondering why being funny doesn't make him or anyone happy anymore.

That's an amazing concept.  One that when Apatow follows it through to the end, even haphazardly, he and Sandler deliver an impressive and thoughtful and, yes, entertaining journey.  

But has there EVER been a female character like that?  When have feminine character flaws been exploited for a comedic and sympathetic story?  Never.  The Reese Witherspoons and the Sandra Bullocks and the Amy Adams of the film world may be wet blankets, Type-A over-acheivers or ugly ducklings but they are NEVER not WOMEN. Female flaws in modern film have been so polarized and made so unthreatening to the heroine's femininity that who can punish poor Apatow for not being adept at exploiting them for narrative or humorous purposes.  

Female archetypes in comic studio films have only one central problem.  They don't have the right penis to stick in their souls or they are unnecessarily unhappy with the right penis to stick in their souls.  Once they get past their timidity or their over-worked professionalism or their bad hairstyle, they meet up with said penis at the airport or altar and everything is fucking fine. Even worse was when, in the name of feminism, "penis" could become synonymous with "career". Thank you, Capitalism! No wonder men embrace the "slacker" cinematic archetype. Women have got that other shit covered.

So don't fucking BLAME Judd Apatow for not being able to get a grip on it.  

Imagine an Apatow movie about a woman who can't lose her virginity.  (Studio/Society:  "Good!  She's saving herself for the RIGHT penis!  Tom Hanks!").  Or a fat stoner chick who has an unprotected one night stand with a hot dude.  (Studio/Society: "Either A. the movie's over on page 20 because she found the right penis who will get her thin or B. she's a slut.  Let's not make this movie.")  Ok.  This analogy isn't very fair.  Let's expound.

I've been in meetings as a writer where the producers have asked me: "What is the female equivalent of a Judd Apatow movie?"  My answer: "Depressing."  His comedy is rooted in male pathos.  Anything rooted in female pathos would be shot down in the development stages or revamped in a different genre.  Why?  Because female pathos is UGLY.  It isn't funny to other women because other women don't want to admit they are capable of that type of behavior.  Men raise their beer-bongs to the Apatowian lead because they can laugh at themselves and are always excused for such flawed and indecent behavior.  In fact, they are lauded for it.  Because they are men.  Not only are women so competitive with each other and so self-loathing of themselves that they could never applaud an Apatowian onscreen counterpart... Let's just be honest here!! Ultimately men will not fantasize about sleeping with said counterparts.  So why would women viewers (who are just looking for that right penis) applaud them? Who would go see the movie?  Who would agree to be in it?

What about Sex and the City movie?  You say.  Indignantly.  What about Sex and the City movie, Arden?  Well let me start off by saying FUCK SEX AND THE CITY MOVIE.  The show was brilliant for portraying a flawed and searching female protagonist but it was not rooted solely in this concept.  The show is rooted in the glorification and sanctification of female FRIENDSHIP not female ANGST.  That angst is peppered throughout the series along with the sexapades that ring of true life.  But both are treated like throwaway jokes.  As the show progressed and when the movie was written the nails of Consumerism and Materialism were all but slammed into the coffin.  By the time it rolled into theaters it was little more that US WEEKLY: THE MOVIE.  Porn for women.

Should you go see Funny People?  Sure.  Why the fuck not?  I love giving Judd Apatow my money.  I think he's rad.  It's a flawed movie but he loves flawed people and he's one of them so let's raise our beer-bongs and spend the $12.  Someday maybe a chick will be allowed to do what he's doing and if so I'll give her my $12 then.  But until then please get off his back about the chick stuff and stop being such haters.  I mean, John Hughes died and everyone was like "Curly Sue sucked!"  Sure it did but you can't deny what the man accomplished as a taste-maker and as a trend-setting storyteller.  And the same goes for Apatow.  You'll get wistful when you see that decades from now he's turned into even more of an adjective and you'll complain to the passenger of your electric car/army tank that you were there.  When it happened.

WATCHMEN (2009, dir. Zack Snyder)

Here's the thing. Watchmen is awesome. Read it. It'll take you a weekend at most. It might be the "Catcher in the Rye" of graphic novels. Hell, it might be the reason we have the term "graphic novel" to denote comic books that aspire to narrative coherence. I don't know. I don't really care either. All I know is that when I read it in the summer of 2002 I saw things I will never un-see. Like the moment I heard the opening notes of Radiohead's "Kid A" album, I would never forget where I was when I turned the page to begin that final issue. In a decimated lower Manhattan. On Fulton and Water. In bed. Hungover. Alone and miserable. And it was like I was seeing my life. A blood strewn New York City reduced to rubble. Only the smell of dead bodies with tourists on their graves. A world with no morality or compassion. Just a sick sense of humor.

So... Fast forward to seven years later. Zack "I'm a retard" Snyder is anointed as the "visionary" who will film the unfilmable and bring Alan Moore and Dave Gibbons seminal work to the screen. Ill say the nice stuff first. Parts of it are rather good. Opening montage credit sequence. Dr. Manhattan's flashback storyline almost all in slow motion with Billy Crudup narrating in his Mastercard voice. Jackie Earl Haley slaying it with his wicked voiceover in Rorschach's diary entries. It was very faithful to the structure of the original storyline. Some of the most iconic imagery is stunningly recreated. Sometimes even expounded upon given the film's lavish budget and very talented designers. And if you saw it in the theater then watched the 3-hour director's cut twice in a row like I did the script actually sort of makes sense. Plus the whole endeavor is shellacked with earnestness. A pathological need to express itself as honestly as possible. Mostly I'm impressed not with Snyder as a filmmaker but as a con artist. I mean, the guy made one movie and parlayed it into a gig directing a project that no one thought could be pulled off by anyone. Not even David Fincher. So congrats, retard! You did it!

Question is: why? I mean, the film's scope and production must have been astronomical in cost and the film ended up barely squeezing past the 100mil mark. Its not like we're in 300 Land where you can just throw everyone in front of a green screen and ask them to stand there for 12 hours (and when I say "everyone" I mean a bunch of B-list yawn-inducers who would stand on a baby for 12 hours if you paid them scale). Then come in under budget and meet your agent at the Ivy for a cosmo and calamari just in time to hear you made 70 million opening weekend with no competition on a shitty release date cuz you completely by accident tapped into an entire nation's warmongering bullshit. So your next trick will be to film the unfilmable? How'd you pitch that? "People will totally pay money to watch the unwatchable!"

Adapting Watchmen for the screen is kind of like adapting Dickens. You can't really do it. Because it was written as serial installments. It has a beginning middle and end. But dude was paid by the word so um he's gonna milk that shit for as long as possible with multiple storylines and shit. Plus you're doing this thing called "reading" where time is seriously relative. You can flip forward and back at any point to revisit scenes or review a passage you enjoy or meditate on its meaning. Serial writing is a medium that unless you actually are Charles Dickens doesn't really lend itself to streamlining a feature length narrative that's meant to be enjoyed while chomping popcorn and hoping to get fingerbanged afterward. And as good as Watchmen is. Its not Dickens. At best its a superior piece of science fiction and a slick meditation on the concept of superhero in a post-modern society. And its cinematic counterpart doesn't fall into any genre.


My big problem with comic book movies nowadays is they run into the same problem. They're so intent on staying true to some fan base that they turn out as tortured origin stories and short change me on my action sequences. So what are they? Not action movies despite the fact that they are almost always marketed as such. Dudes in tights can never muster up much drama. Even The Dark Knight didn't really know what it wanted to be. I voted for Western but it got stuck between Michael Mann knock-off and snuff film.

But back to Watchmen. How terrible was that sex scene? Yikes! And we wonder why guys suck in bed. Maybe its because the second Patrick Wilson starts pounding away at Malin Akerman she's gasping in ecstasy and Leonard Cohen is growling encouragement. The soundtrack in general was absurd. Cuing up an establishing cemetary shot with the strains of "Hello Darkness my old friend"? Dustin Hoffman just shot himself somewhere. And five seconds later several NYU film students followed suit.

Holy god in heaven Malin Akerman cannot act. Sheez! Like if the world was ending and the survival of all humanity hinged on a good line reading. Let's hope to the creator of all that Malin is not on deck. Carla Gugino you are fucking sexy and I would love to see your tits whenever and in whatever movie you'd like to let the girls out in. Patrick Wilson, you and I both know that if you started pounding away at me I would moan in ecstasy. I was just making that joke to point out that most chronic masturbators who saw this film couldn't seal the deal.

And that's really who this film was for. Right, retard? Most Snyder embellishments were of the flourish of gore variety so the fanboys could cheer and get their violence boners. Cuz in the immortal words of Eddie Izzard you can eat popcorn to that. If they wanted a thought-provoking, soul-scaring literary triumph they could just read the book. Although I guess at this point in American culture most of them can't read. Well, what do you expect from retards?

PUBLIC ENEMIES (2009, dir. Michael Mann)

There was a time when I loved film. I really loved going to see films. Reviewing them. Talking about them. Allowing them to permeate my life. Nowadays I don't enjoy them at all. I pretty much avoid seeing movies in the theater at all costs. They've lost all luster and mystery to me. Apparently, Michael Mann feels the same way.

Ah Michael Mann. Remember the last time we hung out? That was fun. Looking pretty good, man. You've switched out Colin Farrell's obscene facial hair for a clean-shaven ageless Johnny Depp. When was the last time he was clean-shaven? Cry Baby? Who can say for sure... because we have no way of knowing how old Johnny Depp actually is. He could be aging backwards as a result of drinking the blood of infants.

Once again your script is abysmal. Horrific. Like soap opera quality dialogue. Little differentiates your movies from the Spider-Man franchise. Except that your villians are usually the good guys. Or at least better looking than the good guys. Hey, dude. When are you gonna stop shooting on DV? I found myself thinking during this movie (which I had A LOT of free time during since it was 2.5 hours long) "Wow. Remember that movie Tadpole?" I never saw it. But it was such a big deal for about a week because it was the first feature length DV film to be distributed by a studio. Who knew that several years later we'd be watching Michael Mann's latest opus and it would look like a home movie shot by my dad with my brother doing production design.

A DV period piece? Have we just stopped caring? There was nothing transporting about the look of this movie. It was all very 21st century with nice Depression-era costumes. And a train. During some of those audacious Dillinger escape plans (zing!) I was wondering "What Best Western did they shoot this at?" "This looks like a movie I could've made with my friends if my friends were all enormously famous people." What is up with Christian Bale and his "I'm-the-most-serious-person-for-miles" Bale-ness? I actually started laughing when he shot BabyFace Nelson and the camera held on his "no facial movement whatsoever" face because all I could think was "DO I TRASH YOUR LIGHTS?! FUCK!!" I thought this meltdown on the Terminator: Salvation set was the most entertaining thing Christian Bale had done since American Psycho. I mean, can you name a movie in the last nine years when he got as emotional as he did when he was screaming "IT'S FUCKING DISTRACTING!"??

Again. While I enjoy your action sequences... since you started shooting on DV, Michael, I can't see anything. I don't know what I'm supposed to be looking at. Ever. Do audiences like this? Because if they do then it's the death of composition and mise en scene as we know it. Soon everything will be shot like an episode of "Rock of Love". And you know what? Marion Cotillard would probably still cry through her scene. You know why? Because she needs a job.

Speaking of which it's nice to see that with each film you do, you keep that trademark misogyny alive with your complete disregard for any of your characters who have vaginas. In this one, it's best summed up by the casting. While one-line-through-away male roles are filling by nobody actors, you've casted recognizable actresses like Emilie De Raven and LeeLee Sobieski in literal cameos. Why? Maybe because all women look the same to you. So there's no deliberation in casting. Your choices make it sincerely distracting during sequences. "Hey, this getaway would be awesome if I wasn't now thinking about LOST." "Should I care about Dillinger's death here? Or should I contemplate why LeeLee Sobeski looks 50. And always has."

Man-tastic. Billy Crudup? Stop it. Just fucking stop with your voices and your bullshit and your insistence on acting like you and Eric Bana are not the same person. Seriously. Has anyone ever seen them in the same place? You are a boring actor with no taste in roles and no discernible style. GET A REAL JOB! Christian Bale needs to eat something and stop acting like acting's an important task when his choice of roles in the last three years screams "PAYCHECK" (as he pushes his stunt double off the building). Johnny Depp phones this one in. And I say that confidently as a Depphile. With no malice either. I love him and you have to phone it in every once in awhile when you're a genius and when your kids are awesome and you just want to hang out with them.

Verdict: The entire rigamarole was done better and clearer and aesthetically more pleasant in The Assassination of Jesse James. Actually they are the same movie. Only... Jesse James tried.

Observe and Report (2009, dir. Jody Hill)

Whoa.  Spoilers.  Because that's how I roll.

WOW.  i just... okay.  I haven't blogged seriously in over a year.  I've been meaning to start it up again recently and this film really made me want to write an entry.  I found myself during the 90 minute run time imagining those old days at my desk job where I lived for this type of movie.  A movie I could go home and mercilessly rip apart for my own enjoyment.  Mostly I haven't been writing posts because I've actually been writing screenplays.  Which I will have you know is very difficult and so the acerbic critic in me temporarily died as my continual frustrations with structure/plot/whathaveyou nutured the commiserative and empathetic side of me.

But this movie... wow.

Let's get the date rape out of the way.  I have this thing about date rape.  Date rape jokes are like Jewish jokes.  You can safely make them if you've actually been date raped.  So my only real reason to piss on Jody Hill's parade is that it sucks that a guy got to make this joke in the multiplex arena before a chick writer or director did.  That's my issue with it.  And why?  Well, it could be that male writer/directors are seen as the only people capable of orchestrating gross out comedy which is a genre where fucking a passed out slut perhaps belongs.  OR... it could be that lady writers are too busy being friends with each other, getting skin treatments and owning dogs to concoct a scene as sensationally graphic as this one.

Whatever.  Moving the fuck on.  Why did Jody Hill (a pretty great director) WRITE this movie?  I think it was most likely to make money.  It could also have been to hang out with some cool people he knows.  Let's go out on a limb here and postulate that he wanted to say something about the human experience.  Because, to be honest, there are parts of this movie that would support that hypothesis.  Like juxtaposing mall culture with extremist gun enthusiasm.  I mean, what says America like a schlubby anti-hero shooting a naked guy a close range in the middle of the cosmetics aisle.  Oh yeah.  That's the climax of the movie.  Sorry.  Did it make me think about the state of our beloved union?  Yes.  Much like Borat.  It made me feel very glad that I don't and never have lived anywhere but the East or West Coast blue states.  It also made me sad for anyone who does.  One) because according to the recent movies I've seen there isn't much to do except shoot stuff, eat stuff and shop for shit.  And possibly dream of the day you can move to Hollywood and make a movie satirizing your experience.  And B) because everyone else in the country hates your fucking guts.

So apparently this is Taxi Driver for the LARPing generation.  Which is, in my humble opinion, a genius idea.  Problem is... Observe and Report bears little to no resemblance to Taxi Driver.  For starters, Robert DeNiro wasn't immediately established as a loser or a deranged lunatic.  You were initially rooting for him because you felt the indignancies he suffered at the hands of others were unwarranted.  As are, of course, all of your indignancies.  He gained your trust as a protagonist.  In Observe and Report, it's established right off the bat that Ronnie (Seth Rogen) is OBVIOUSLY a loser and deranged lunatic.  The Rogen persona and the imitative personas his fame has spawned are firmly ROOTED in the concept of loser as hero.  So... when he suffers the insults of others, he deserves it.  This is what we laugh at: his triumph in spite of the fact he deserves our derision.  Anyone who's seen a Will Ferrell movie knows that.

It's worth noting that the objects of DeNiro's obsessive romantic worship are both angels sacrificed to cruel systems: politics and prostitution.  While the conveniently-sweet Nell (well-acted by Collette Wolfe) falls into this category, she's an after thought to Ronnie's inciting attraction to Brandi (Anna Faris).  Brandi is so unbelievably disgusting that the sad part is: She actually does need saving.  But I suppose Mr. Hill found it too tempting to make her a punchline to be shat all over.  Which is exactly what everyone including Ronnie, her would-be savior, does to her. So let me get this straight, dude. If Anna Faris fucks whoever she wants, does copious amounts of drugs and doesnt really want to date a sociopathic fat-ass is a complete waste of space and not only deserves to be fucked like a piece of meat but she will actually ENJOY that. But Michael Pena can do it and it's funny cuz he's a "gangsta" or something.

Plus a guy who has absolutely no redeeming qualities, a fetish for guns, delusions of grandeur and a severe case of self-entitlement... he's the hero? I can hear the NCSA grads now... "that's not what he's saying you fucking lesbian feminist! He's saying that... like Seth Rogen is... like crazy... and our culture". No! FUCK YOU! You chronic masturbators! When everyone claps in slow motion for the hero to a Pixies cover that means you're rewarding him. That means you're saying everything he's done for the last 90 minutes is fantasy yes. But it's cool. You're not making an ironic statement about what this society rewards. THAT'S what Taxi Driver did. Because it was a good movie.

I could forgive the films blatantly brainless misogyny and neo-Scorsese posturing if it were funny.  But it really isn't.  I laughed at maybe three moments.  The rest of it?  Good actors and would-be comedic bits are drowned out by obese people, absurd nudity, randomness, minorities acting bizarre, second rate jokes about middle America, and a smug soundtrack that would make even Wes Anderson cringe with embarrassment. That naked guy who gets shot in the chest? He survives. Obviously. MPAA doesn't like executions but rape... A-okay. I can see why. When he was shot, the audience burst into giddy laughter and applause. As if E.T. just flew across the moon. Once again in mainstream comedy... anti-humanism trumps creativity every time.

Synonyms: Bad Santa, The Cable Guy
Antonyms: Taxi Driver, anything by Edgar Wright

BOTTOM LINE: Only for fans of Eastbound and Down. I know you're out there! People looking for another Apatow extravaganza... looks like this month's best bet is Adventureland.