Waste of a soul

Swift shot: I don’t care.  It was boring, full of cliches and hack writing.  Jeff Bridges can act, and clearly taking on a terrible script and making it “shine” is what passes for Academy gold these days.  Based on that caveat alone, Bridges should get the Oscar, but to quote Metallica, “So Fucking What?”  Yes, Metallica is more my speed, but I can appreciate a good film regardless of genre.  Crazy Heart is one of those movies that everyone is telling you that you are supposed to like, so, if you don’t what the hell is your problem?

It’s about a loser, a sell-out, a drunk and an overall boring washed up country music singer (and I use that term loosely).  It starts off with little promise and only gets worse from there.  Tepid, like the piss he transports with him in his Silverado, or was it a Suburban, yea, who cares?  Nothing remotely interesting happens in this film!  And, if you think it does, god-damned, you are an incredibly boring person, go live a little.

No one is really ever challenged in any significant (believable) way, and when there are challenges, all the characters conveniently solve them within one montage – if only life were so damned simple.  Hey, I have fucked my my whole life, guess I just need to fish with Robert Duvall and join the happy tree friends for an AA meeting and voila, no more problems – AWESOME!

This character has the soul of a sociopath sans the whimsy and cutting up of coeds.  Yes, again, I wanted a lot more out of this script.  It was like being God and randomly flipping through your rollodex to check on one of your creations, and instead of having mercy on him and dropping a stage-light on his head, you keep him alive for some sick amusement – which even you don’t understand.  In fact, it was very much like watching bad Mexican TV in a dilapidated hotel room, so damned uninteresting it becomes like a laxative for your mind.  So, you are God, and just sitting there watching this loser’s life and thinking, man I should turn this off, but then I would have to get up and readjust my nads.

I get this a lot, but, Rick, you didn’t tell me what the movie was about . . .  so, go read a synopsis!  Fine, it was about a washed up has been, who sells out his integrity and is so selfish he can’t do one thing without regard to his immediate gratification.  He meets a young philly who happens to be smitten with him for some reason that I will never understand.  He has some cliche lines about being on the road, living the life of a traveler, regrets not seeing his son for twenty-four years (sound familiar, The Wrestler) returns home, fishes, and does the one thing his love-interest (Maggie Gyllenhaal) asks him not to do.

Let’s talk about “demographic” here, shall we?  My detractors will say, “well, that just wasn’t Rick Swift’s scene daddy-o” (because that is how I imagine my detractors talk, like hepcats).  Bullshit, I find myself watching all manner of film in my life, and appreciating a vast variety of the cornucopia of the industry.  In Norway I taught myself how to leser Norsk (read Norwegian) by watching Swedish movies with Norwegian subtitles, after several hours of Major Dad marathons with Norwegian subtitles, whilst hearing  English.  I love Swedish films, Danish films, German, French, you name it, I like films about angst, drama, passion, deceit, conflict, you know INTERESTING themes.

But, dear reader, Crazy Heart was vapidly exhausting and mind-numbing rubbish, void of anything worthwhile, except that Bridges really does (dry heave) BECOME Bad Blake – and . . . who cares?

I am starting to sound like H-Man when he rips into a Bin Bilger here, but, my level of detestation for this film knows no bounds.  See, that was kind of a cliche, you could make a whiskey shot drinking game out of every cliche in Crazy Heart – in fact, DO IT, maybe something REMOTELY interesting will happen to you during the game.! You know that Navy commercial, “If someone wrote a story about your life . . . would anybody read it?”   Life is short, please don’t waste 112 minutes watching this crap.

Read Iratefilms.com’s interview with Writer/Director Greg Mottola here.

It’s the summer of 1987, and James Brennan (Jesse Eisenberg) is looking forward to spending it touring Europe. His dreams are quickly dashed when he finds out his parents (Wendie Malick and Jack Gilpin) can no longer help him afford his trip or assist him in his future plans for grad school at Columbia. Sadly, this translates into James getting the only job he’s qualified for…at Adventureland.

I really expected more from this film. The credit for that goes to the guy editing the trailer. From the trailer, the film looks like it’s full of the funny, however, Adventureland does not deliver. All the hilarity is already represented in the two minute clip.

This is director Greg Mottola’s next effort after Superbad, except he decided to write it as well. Maybe he hoped Seth Rogen and Evan Goldberg left some humor in the tank for him. Unfortunately, the tank was empty. All that was left inside was a contrived love triangle and boring characters – and he ran with it. The acting in Adventureland wasn’t bad, but the chemistry between all the actors were horrible except for Bill Hader (Manager Bobby) and Kristen Wiig (Paulette). They worked very well on screen together.

Do yourself a favor, if you’ve watched the trailer, leave it at that. Spend your money on better flicks, like Fast and Furious or Monsters vs. Aliens.

Hässlich.

Terrible, I never played the game, didn’t know it was even out – God only knows why I rented this one, it was a direct play title from Netflix, so it felt free.  If anyone paid so much as a nickel to see this film, I truly feel sorry for them – especially in these tough economic times.  

The film has tons of shock value, and I am sure it has a loyal cult following, but unlike Idiocracy, Postal was not funny.  Where wit and satire should meet, only disgusting slum humor exists.  Most of the roles were for character actors, and I wonder what other incredibly fat women were turned down for the role of trailer-park ho – can you imagine being told you weren’t good enough for that part?  

The film was directed by game-to-gag stand-by Uwe Boll, not to be confused with the Miami Dolphins former place-kicker, Uwe von Schamann.  The German angle was borderline retarded and uninspired, for a German director – I would expect more.  Again, I have never played the game, but I understand the film is accurate.  I have no desire to play such a game, since my testicles dropped years ago, and if this crap floats your boat, please make sure you are nowhere near me on I-95 – as I am sure you are one of those text-while-driving a-holes.   

I mean, Scut Farcus was the lead, that should have told me all I needed to know.  I have seen him in other things, and short of a war movie, he should stick to his day job (I sure hope it isn’t acting).  If you want to be teased by scantily-clad, terribly bad actresses, go rent some porn – I guarantee you will find yourself feeling less guilty than paying a pfennig to watch this tripe!