Unlatch the loony bin! Here come Norton and Pitt acting up a storm in this splotch of psychotic puke. If you're an aspiring novelist or screenwriter, take a tip and avoid the lazy way out. Don't write trash about crazy people. Now, most people know that stories about schizos don't have to obey any rules for good writing. The characters can do any crazy thing, because...well, duh!
Don't write about abandoned tenements where maniac squatters sleep. It's been done. Don't include a drug ravaged sex hag who represents some imaginary other self from the eighth grade. Fight Club already did it. Avoid masochism as an interesting sidebar in an otherwise depraved story, because it just ain't interesting. Don't hire a couple of award winning actors so as to pump up the box office. Scarpacci has your number. Don't set Roger Ebert loose saying this is a "unique example of inner meaning, seen exclusively by the educated elite and in-crowd intelligentsia", because no one is gonna believe it if they sit through this sludge-pit of a film.
And, I gleaned all this from just seeing only 60% of the movie. What would I have reported if the DVD monitor hadn't crapped out?
Well, tonight I watched the last half of this skank. It's sick. It's schizophrenic. Not ratable. Go to your film library and take this one off the shelf. It could injure someone you love. In fact, it would be in the public service to erase this movie from history. Oh, my goodness, it's sick.
3 comments:
How do you think I got my name? Fight Club.
LETS GET SOMEBODY WHO LIKES MOVIES. LETS GET SOMEBODY WHO ACTUALLY SAW THE WHOLE DOLLAR TWO NINETY EIGHT AND LIKED IT.
Do not go see this one. This review is right on the money. Shame on those bird brains for making it.
Post a Comment