Thinking Fool

« The NBA Finals are Over: Celtics 131, Lakers 92 | Main | Adventures in Vegas - The 2008 Edition: Volume I »

June 24, 2008

Playing (Unfortunately) at a Theater Near You...

The Happening
The Gist: New Yorkers start committing suicide in droves for no apparent reason. Then people in Philadelphia start offing themselves too. All of a sudden, everyone’s thinking, “Lucy, you’ve got some ‘splaining to do!” And by “Lucy, you’ve got some ‘splaining to do,” I mean a lot of people think terrorists have released massive chemicals in the air causing people to go Hunter S. Thompson on themselves. Well, guess what, folks; survey says, “BUZZ!” No, it turns out, that once brilliant writer-director-producer-turned-awful-writer-director-producer M. Night Shyamalan explains these mysterious deaths as coming from, hold on to your nuts, vaginal lips, or whatever you hold on to when you’re gearing up for an idiotic surprise… TREES! Yes indeed, M. Night wrote his movie in a way that has the trees banding together and releasing a chemical in the air that results in people wanting to kill themselves. I’ll tell you what made me want to kill myself; watching this awful movie.
What Would Have Made this Movie Better: This is an R-rated movie; the trailers made a huge deal out of that fact because it’s M. Night’s first. Since we’ve already got the R rating, why not let Marky Mark screw someone on screen, preferably not his wife, who was as annoying as a rabbit on the subway hell-bent on sniffing your private parts, but someone nonetheless. I mean, seriously, women, am I right or wrong here? If you know you’re going to die from some mysterious natural disaster and Marky Mark happens to be loitering nearby, don’t you ask him to play Cowboys and Indians with you, with him assuming the role of a horse and you that of a cowgirl? Also, maybe it would have helped the movie if M. Night had tweaked the script a little. And by tweaking the script a little, I mean he should have picked it up, walked it over to a fireplace, and threw it on a burning starter log (and considered jumping on that log himself). Short of that, he should have created at least one character with whom the audience could connect. But, no, to the contrary, there was not a single soul in this movie whom I cared about. NOT ONE! John Leguizamo is a hell of an actor, and for some baffling reason, decided to accept a role in this film. Early on in the movie, he’s all distressed because he thinks his wife might be dead. He goes back to find her, and it becomes clear pretty quickly that he’s going to die in his attempt. (Oh sorry, for that spoiler, but if you see this film after reading this review, you’ve got more mental problems than Colin Ferguson, John Hinckley, Jr., and Roseanne Barr combined.) He leaves his single-digit-year-old daughter with Mark Wahlberg and Wahlberg’s C-note wife in case he doesn’t make it. Usually such a scene would cause some sort of somber reaction in you, right? Well, as someone who proudly admits to having shed a tear while watching The Notebook, I can assure you that I didn’t care if Leguizamo, his wife, his daughter, Wahlberg, Wahlberg’s wife, or anyone in this film, for that matter, died. There was NO emotional connection with ANYONE. You felt less for these characters than Terry Schiavo’s husband did for her.
Who Should See This: I saw The Sixth Sense very reluctantly and ended up LOVING it! Then I saw Unbreakable and didn’t love it, but definitely liked it. Then I watched Signs and walked away thinking I had been sodomized by an angry rhinoceros. (People often cite Signs as being some clever film. It was about as clever as trimming your pubic hair in the shape of the pope. Oh wait, that might actually be kind of clever, so scrap that. It was about as clever as most celebrity game show panelists these days.) Then I went to see The Village, and thought, “What the hell has happened to this writer-director-producer? His last two movies have sucked more than Helen Keller in the director’s cut of The Miracle Worker. (By the way, my ass that chick said “Wawa.” She made a couple goofy sounds that the so-called “Miracle Worker” interpreted in a way that made the “Miracle Worker” look great. Trust me, if the “Miracle Worker” had been a shady prosecutor instead of some teacher, she would have convinced the world that Helen Keller’s brother was touching her. In other words, Helen Keller said whatever the “Miracle Worker” said she said. Plus, I’m pretty sure the “Miracle Worker” was touching Keller’s cooch.) Then The Lady in the Water came out, and I thought, “Well, I guess I should give him another shot. His first two movies were at least super clever and he’s got to bounce back, right?” But then, after every critic seemed to indicate that having explosive diarrhea for eight days would be more fun than watching Lady in the Water, I decided to skip that one. Well, I should have decided to skip The Happening too because there wasn’t a single redeeming quality about it. Not one. It was an absolute abortion from start to finish.
The Verdict: Absolutely awful. M. Night, I’m done, buddy. F

Posted by fool on June 24, 2008 12:53 AM

Comments

Posted by: Ming the Merciless at June 24, 2008 02:32 AM

Posted by: Harmless Error at June 24, 2008 10:15 AM

Posted by: chuck at June 25, 2008 12:15 AM

Posted by: teahouseblossom at June 25, 2008 11:22 PM

Posted by: Fool at June 26, 2008 12:21 AM

Posted by: chuck at July 7, 2008 11:02 PM

Post a comment

Name:

Email Address:

URL:

Remember This Information? YesNo

Comments: (you may use HTML tags for style)