More Movie Reviews-MacGruber

admin — Wed, 26 May 2010 17:23:40 +0000

If you look closely, you can see the outline of Kristen Wiig's shaft. God she's grody.

Poor bastard's got a mouth like a sex doll's pussy. An ultra-lifelike model at that.

My last three articles have been movie reviews. Is watching movies all I do with my life lately? At least Roger Ebert has the excuse that half his jaw has been removed and he now eats through a tube and talks through a Speak & Spell. I’m 90% sure every one of Ebert’s reviews now ends with “This movie managed to take my mind off the fact that I’m halfway to Johnny Got His Gun-ville for 90 minutes. Thumbs up!” Well, I can eat solid food and my mouth in no way resembles a vagina (well, since I grew a beard, maybe that of some Italian broad in a 50s stag film), so here’s my unbiased review of MacGruber.

I’ve caught one or two MacGruber sketches on SNL, and don’t recall them being anything outstanding. In each one, the painfully unfunny Will Forte just yaps a lot to people far more amusing than him in that weird, affected voice of his instead of disarming a bomb and then everyone explodes. (As an aside, seriously, fuck Will Forte. There are very few people in this world I know I’m funnier than and thus should be enjoying the success of, but he’s one of them. He almost manages to ruin this masterpiece which depicts a falcon snorting blow and then double-teaming an octogenarian with Alec Baldwin. How? Animals doing drugs is always hilarious and Alec Baldwin is one of the funniest guys on the planet. Yet Forte almost manages to Sammy Hagar the situation.)

Bands like this are one of many, many reasons I didn't lose my virginity in high school.

The only reason I wanted to watch MacGruber was, up until the Thursday before its release, it was enjoying an astounding 92% approval rating over at Rotten Tomatoes, meaning it had to be doing something right. I went to bed confident that I’d take my mom and brother out to see it over the weekend and, once again, they’d lavish praise upon me for my choice in films (and overlook the fact that I make a paperboy’s salary at age 29 and it’d probably be my mom treating the three of us to the movie even though it was my idea to go see it). Come Friday morning, however. MacGruber‘s lofty 92% rating had plummeted to 51%, something I’d never seen happen to a movie before. If someone had replaced the film’s last reel with footage of baby seals being clubbed as Napalm Death blared in the background, it’d still have only gone down to 65%, tops. Now I had to go just to find out how bad this piece of shit was.

On Sunday, I decided the time had come. I rounded up m’lady (note: “M’lady” is a super-classy way to address a broad. You’d be amazed what you can get away with in bed if you simply request it in a fake British accent and and toss a “m’lady” on the end of things) and we shelled out the $18 for two matinee tickets to MacGruber. And, after all the buildup, how was the film? Meh. It had some solid (and surprisingly dirty) jokes, but any time I wasn’t laughing, I was actively despising the flick. Will Forte was as weak as I figured he’d be and Kristen Wiig’s recurring gimmick throughout the film was getting dressed up like a man, which only confirmed my suspicions that she’s hiding a schlong that would put John Holmes‘ to shame. Ryan Phillippe was serviceable as MacGruber’s young apprentice, but you know what? Spelling “Phillippe” is a real pain in the ass and I had to do it multiple times when writing this, so f him, too. At least Val Kilmer was great in his role as MacGruber’s arch-nemesis Dieter von Cunth (get it? Almost sounds like “cunt.” Ha.), but I’m pretty sure I’d have rooted for John Wayne Gacy had he been hell-bent on killing Will Forte, so maybe Kilmer wasn’t that amazing, after all.

Do yourself a favor and skip MacGruber, at least in the theaters. It’s the perfect movie to catch on HBO some Sunday afternoon when you’ve got a debilitating hangover and anything that would make you laugh too hard would only make your head feel even worse. And if anyone makes the obvious joke that this article is also so unfunny that it is safe for hangovers in the comments section, I promise to hunt them down and shove a Capri Sun straw up their prick.

Iron Man 2-It Doesn’t Suck

admin — Fri, 21 May 2010 16:29:20 +0000

The scowl of Iron Man. I'd be mad too if my work suit was an airtight Dutch oven just waiting to happen.

Handsome cast, that MacGruber film has.

Sure, this article is a touch late: Iron Man 2 was released two weeks ago. But what else are you going to watch this weekend? MacGruber? (Actually, I probably am. So help me God, it’s getting good reviews, and I’m over the fact that Val Kilmer now looks like the long-lost little brother of those two fat twins on motorcycles and Kristen Wiig’s smile creeps the living hell out of me. Have you ever seen a woman look more uncomfortable on screen? It’s like she’s perpetually in the middle of a colonic.) For those of you that haven’t seen Iron Man 2, though, I’m here to tell you that, while it’s no masterpiece…well, it doesn’t suck, either.

Let’s get this out of the way: While I enjoyed the first Iron Man well enough, I don’t think I got nearly as much out of it as most people did. If memory serves, Robert Downey, Jr., fucks Ricky Bobby’s wife, gets abducted by terrorists, escapes and then ends up fighting The Big Lebowski, who seems a lot more Walter than Dude in his old age. I literally recall nothing beyond that. Maybe it’s not the film’s fault, because I had to scream at a bunch of kids every five minutes to shut up during the damn thing in the theater (I’m actually really confrontational…when my opponents are under 12 years old and white) and (paging Dr. Freud) I only seem to enjoy super hero flicks when the protagonist’s father figure meets an untimely end. I just couldn’t feel too much pathos for a character that was a rich, brilliant, charismatic and fucking everything on two legs. Is it too much to ask that the same incident that required Iron Man to live with the aid of a robot heart also left him using colostomy bags? I’d feel a lot more empathy for a guy who had to save the world while pooping into a sack taped to his chest. Just sayin’.

Whips? What is this, Castlevania?

Iron Man 2 works because it manages to keep to a minimum the two problems that plague all super hero movie sequels: Multiple new villains and spending roughly seven hours of the film’s run time setting up a second sequel. IM2 does contain a few scenes with Samuel L. Jackson as Nick Fury to set the groundwork for a tie-in film (The Avengers), but come on: It’s godddamn Samuel L. Jackson. Had he told Iron Man to “strike down with great vengeance those who attempt to poison and destroy you,” I’d be nominating him for the Oscar. Mickey Rourke also does a very good job as Whiplash, the film’s (predominant) big bad. My only complaint there is, well…he built a suit with two electric whips to take on Iron Man. There should have been no Iron Man 2. Instead, there should have been an eight minute short where we see a montage of Whiplash building his suit, then Whiplash attacks Iron Man, Iron Man laughs and fires a missile into Whiplash’s unprotected, un-iron head and it explodes like in Scanners. The end.

The film’s most disappointing aspect isn’t even director Jon Favreau’s fault: It’s Scarlett Johansson’s. I don’t know if Van Wilder‘s semen has magical weight loss properties (…or do I?), but what the hell happened to this broad’s figure? She used to be awesome because she was the one chick with an ass the size of a dump truck that the average cracker-ass-cracker white guy would openly admit to wanting to bang. Not only that, but…look at those lungs! As I’m typing this, I’m trying to find out if there’s a state in this country that will allow me to marry a picture. Now she’s all bony and her rack is more atrophied and depressing than Detroit’s economy. I sure wish her tits and ass would grow back so I could remember what an interesting, intelligent person with a good heart she is.

So if you’re one of the three people left who hasn’t seen Iron Man 2 since it came out four years ago, give it a shot. You won’t be disappointed. Except by Scarlett Johansson’s decimated chest, which is a bigger national tragedy than that oil spill in the Gulf.

Papa's Basement » Kristen Wiig

More Movie Reviews-MacGruber

Iron Man 2-It Doesn’t Suck