Why spend 10 dollars to go see a movie when you can hastily dismiss it based on its ridiculous trailer? We take a look at the absurd shit that Hollywood has in store for you this spring.
Sure, the idea of pitting the military against a monster menace was pretty smooth in Jim Cameron's Aliens, and it's held up decently enough in the many knock-off cash-ins since. But trained soldiers with heavy ordinance climbing down a hole in the ground to fight cave-mutant hicks? That's sort of retarded. It doesn't matter what the mutation did to them--one side of this battle has assault rifles and grenades, and the other has bib overalls, gills, and fucking banjos. It's called pulling a pin and yelling "Fire in the hole!", National Guard. Look into that.
Charlie Fineman (Adam Sandler) loses his entire family in 9/11 and is pretty bummed out about it. Luckily he meets Magical Black Man Don Cheadle, who devotes his Magical Black Life to helping Sandler at the cost of his own marriage and happiness. It's all good, though: The white guy turns out okay at the end.
Remember You, Me & Dupree, that shitty comedy nobody saw last year about bottom-feeder Owen Wilson crashing with a well-off couple until they lose it and want him to leave? You don't remember it? No, don't worry, it's cool. Seriously, no one saw it. We won't hold it against you or anything.
Anyway, Reign Over Me looks identical to You, Me & Dupree, except in Reign, the bottom-feeder character's experienced heartbreak and flips out occasionally about terrorism, so it's, you know, "really serious." Take Owen Wilson's character from Dupree, say "9/11" a lot in a solemn Morgan Freeman voice, and toss Sandler an Oscar scene where he gets to lose his shit and break a chair about the unfairness of God or whatever. Are you laughing yet? Great! See you at Reign Over Me!
Shooter has all the political intrigue and one-man-against-the-government plot contrivances of a Jason Bourne movie, with one key difference: rather than having the wooden Matt Damon run around rooftops, conduct car chases and kick people in the face in a deadly game of cat and mouse, it gets the wooden Mark Wahlberg instead.
As an off-brand Matt Damon, Wahlberg looks plausible if not probable as one of the most deadly marksmen alive. The cool thing about the Bourne movies, though, was that its hero could be counted on to turn anything he'd lay his hands on--a telephone, a steering wheel, dental floss--into an instrument of destruction. Wahlberg's at a bit of a loss here, since he's only got one skill, and it relies pretty heavily on having a high-powered rifle with night vision scope on him at all times. If the airport loses his luggage, he's about as deadly as the guy who sorts your mail.
I don't get it. When does Bruce Willis come into this?
He doesn't. Instead, we are pleased to bring you Michael Rapaport!
That loudmouthed jackass from The War at
Home? Why is he in the
new Die Hard sequel?
The new Die Hard sequel is Live Free or Die Hard. That comes out June 29. This is Live Free or Die .
What? They used a misleading title to trick me into seeing this
piece of crap?
Correct! But we hope that won't keep you from enjoying this and many other fine Michael Rapaport movies coming out this year, such as Michael Almighty, Alien vs. Michael Rapaport II, and The Bourne Idiocy.
And from there, aside from assorted scenes of the house falling apart comedically, such as some windows that fall out of their frame accompanied by a slide-whistle sound effect, the trailer turns into some sort of bizarre war between humans and the animal kingdom. A boy shoots a pigeon with a nail gun. A dog drags the boy across a lawn. The boy is pulled into a lake while fishing, prompting Ice Cube to dive in and wrestle an enormous fish. Ice Cube picks up an adorable (though poorly computer generated) chipmunk, only to have it snatched from his hand by a hawk. Ice Cube crawls onto his porch roof to brain a raccoon with a mop, only to fall through. What the hell is going on here?
Sure, Ice Cube was great as the drug dealer who avenged his half-brother's drive-by shooting in Boyz in the Hood, but you know who would have been perfect? A young Tom Hanks, back in his period when he just basically yelled all the time.
No, exactly, that would be awful. So what's Ice Cube doing in The Money Pit? Granted, both The Money Pit and Are We Done Yet? are remakes of the Cary Grant/Myrna Loy comedy Mr. Blandings Builds His Dream House. But that still doesn't excuse swiping gags directly from the Hanks film, such as the electrical wiring exploding across the wall in a fiery trail. Of course, The Money Pit didn't feature a bitter war of extermination against the local fauna.
But the real issue? You used to be cool, Ice Cube. Hell, you used to scare us, way back when you spent all your time looking angry and fucking tha police. Now you've neutered yourself and you keep foisting one terrible family comedy after another on us. Are We Done Yet? God, we hope so.
Spider-Man (Tobey Maguire) returns to multiplexes this spring to fight still more CG villains--this time around it's the dastardly Sandman (Thomas Haden Church), Hobgoblin (James Franco), and the unlikely Topher Grace as the decidedly not-Topher Grace-looking Venom.
Think there's enough plot to fill a movie yet? You're probably right, but we've apparently also got Spider-Man getting married!
Wow, that's a movie, right? But wait! Bryce Dallas Howard will also be appearing as Gwen Stacey for a sexsational love triangle between Spidey and Mary Jane Watson (Kirsten Dunst)! Hot damn!
Done with the plot yet? Not even! Spider-Man's also going slowly and violently crazy as a result of him wearing a living version of his costume!
Okay, but clearly that's enough, right? Of course it is! But we haven't even told you that in this one, J. Jonah Jameson (J.K. Simmons) shoots lightning out of his fucking dick and bench-presses Spider-Man's aunt (Rosemary Harris)! Holy shit!
Wow, you'd never guess this was the third film in a starting-to-look-a-bit-winded franchise and the producers were desperately packing as much shit as possible into this thing to keep audiences' interest from flagging.
Speaking of hulking idiots, though, Horatio Sanz bets a cool $10,000 that Bana can't hit three golf balls, doubling over in horror and revulsion when Bana easily does so. But what's this? Here comes Bana's estranged father (Robert Duvall), who's also a professional gambler. According to his father, Bana has things backwards on the issue of whether to live your life like you play cards. According to everyone else, the way Bana lives his life is in the shadow of his father. Suddenly, Bana turns into a mythical king of Thebes, slays his father, and marries his mother. Oh, sorry, wrong Oedipal drama.
Instead, Bana and Duvall both enter the World Series of Poker, beating tough customers such as Colonel Harland Sanders and a bald guy in a Hawaiian shirt until it's at last down to father and son facing off at the final table.
WARNING: CONTAINS HORATIO SANZ
From then on, it's a fiesta of cervezas, piñatas, and luchadores until the banditos come back with a horse-drawn tank (although it might just be a horse standing in front of a tank), and they're forced to defend the town with bazookas, dilapidated cannons left behind by Santa Anna, and good old-fashioned blue-collar American pluck.
What do you get if you multiply Three Kings by The Three Amigos? Nine friendly kings, obviously. But if you divide that by the number of working brain cells collectively owned by this movie's leads, you get an error, and that's exactly what Delta Farce is. Of course, one tired internet meme states "Chuck Norris can divide by zero," and it's surely no coincidence that this terrible-looking comedy bears a similar title to his 1986 action thriller Delta Force. The tantalizing possibility of a Chuck Norris cameo is in itself enough to get a legion of feeble-minded ironists up out of the cheap seats, hooting and hollering. But there's no sign of this happening. Chuck Norris seems content to keep on making his own movies, each of which is unintentionally funnier than this so-called comedy is liable to be on purpose.
That's not to say Delta Farce won't evoke some sort of reaction. Larry the Cable Guy's nasal bleating of his "Git-'er-done!" catchphrase in this trailer is enough to prompt an audible groan of angry disgust, followed by a walk around the block to cool down. But if you're looking to actually enjoy a movie about three friends shipping off to war, you'll probably find more laughs in The Deer Hunter.
Pirates of the Caribbean: At Worlds End is essentially little more than the final twenty minutes of the last Pirates sequel stretched out to feature film length, so clearly it'll make ten powzillion dollars and everyone at Disney will wrestle, laughing and naked, in the building-sized piles of money being delivered daily to the studio. On the plus side, At Worlds End does at least finally deliver on the long-rumored, never-before-seen cameo by Keith Richards as Captain Jack Sparrow's father. There's also an octopus, if that floats your boat, and Orlando Bloom's as delicious as ever. Keira Knightly's jutting, inhuman-looking chin also makes an appearance. The gang's all here, basically! Like you need our say-so to go watch this thing.
One of the factors that made the first Ocean's Eleven remake so much fun was director Steven Soderbergh, who understood that a movie about charismatic, fast-talking criminals planning capers requires a lighthearted, brightly lit, fast-paced tone. The first Ocean's was just damn fun. (It even looked like the actors were having a big ol' party making it.)
For reasons not publicized at the time--a shovel-blow to the skull, maybe?--Soderbergh forgot all this for the sequel, Ocean's Twelve, a darkly-lit, murky pile of unwatchableness, complete with arty-fart camera angles and a plot so unnecessarily complex as to require sketching out a flowchart on the back of your theater ticket. Seriously, what the hell was up with that movie? It was about as fun as a rectal exam.
Based on the trailer's funny bits (Clooney's eye roll at the end there gets us chuckling), we're optimistic that Ocean's Thirteen will be a successful return to the formula of Eleven, and remember how to be fun again. We've got such high hopes for this one, we're even willing to ignore the presence of scenery obliterator Al Pacino, whom we frankly haven't enjoyed in a film in decades and sort of half-jokingly wish will die of cancer or something so he'll stop dragging his anus all over his own legacy like a kennel dog with ringworm.