September 08, 2006

God's Final Test

aIn the course of my unemployed trawling on the internet over the course of the last few years I have come across some intensely passionate and profound writing. For some strange reason a good amount of it seems to revolve around bad movies. It’s hard to match the vitriol and sheer visual breadth exuded by such masters of movie hating as Mr. Cranky or the people over at SomethingAwful. However, I for the most part have a relatively high pain threshold when it comes to watching movies. This has enabled me to withstand even the likes of such cinematic greats as Mortal Kombat: Annihilation.
Everyone faces their nemesis at some point or the other. I met mine yesterday, in the form of a hasty decision to watch “My Super Ex Girlfriend” at PVR Saket, for a hundred and fifty a seat, at 11:30 in the night. I did feel this strange premonition before I was walking through those fateful theatre doors. I had a feeling I’d made a big mistake somewhere. It may have been Uma Thurman’s drawn emaciated death’s head face attempting to look peppy, or her costume which made her look like a tricked out undead dominatrix who’d flunked S&M school for looking too cute, or the constant urge to punch Luke Wilson’s life-sized poster in the crotch, but I just had a feeling.
I’m not going to bother explaining the plot to you. I feel “explaining” anything in this movie may insult your intelligence. Barebones: Thurman play blonde bombshell superhero G-Girl (wtf does G mean? One of the many unsolved mysteries in the course of this complex and subtle movie) who fights crime when she isn’t a mild-mannered bespectacled brunette art curator in a New York Museum. Luke Wilson is the average Joe project manager who doesn’t get much luck with girls and decides that since he is so overwhelmingly desperate, the emaciated body of Uma Thurman will have to do. It is therefore, in the traditional manner that he sets off the resulting bizarre chain of events. He is ably assisted in his endeavours by *, who plays his relationship-guru-from-hell best friend. Unfortunately, what he assumes will be a simple one or two night stand turns into a boiling passionate romance (at least as far as G-Girl is concerned) with the skeleton revealing her secret identity. Wilson, who becomes a little perturbed about Uma’s increasing tendency to smash his car windows and her attempts to tear off his manhood in her lovemaking frenzy decides to break it off. This is where the movie is supposed to flap its soiled, bedraggled wings and fly a bit. Unfortunately it doesn’t. It hops about, spreads its wings and flops facedown in the proverbial box office trashcan it was dragged out of. Uma, in her Shakti-esque fury, boils Luke’s goldfish, almost destroys his apartment, turns his car into a celestial object and lasers the word “Dick” onto his forehead. The sad, pathetic attempt at upping the pace is spoiled by a boring and utterly chemistryless relationship blooming between Luke and * (who, by the way, seems to have gotten into the habit of playing the pathetic waif with inner strength since Scary Movie). The only cheery bit in the movie was the part where the enraged G-Girl tosses a great white shark onto the recently consummated starry-eyed colleagues. I was hoping the shark would remove the offending Wilson brother’s head (or at least his manhood, since that’s what started this whole sorry mess of a movie off anyway). Alas, this was not to be. The conniving two-timer survives and the noble great white (who really has done nothing wrong, really) ends up a sorry mess on the pavement. After this, the movie continues to crawl on to its inevitable finale, where the director (in what he must have considered an attempt to add some class to the show) introduces a full-on super powered cat-fight between the skeleton and the waif. However, the pathetic loser saves the day by introducing the skeleton to the man who truly loves her, her long-time arch-nemesis, supervillian and high-school sweetheart, Professor Bedlam. It was at this point that my subconscious began hurling insults at the movie screen of its own volition, and began screaming “Please make it stop! Please make it stop!” at my eyes. It is important to point out here that somewhere during the intermission I realised that I was fighting a strong impulse to kill the people who had come to the movie with me. And the people in the seats behind me who must have been hired by the theatre administration as live canned laughter.
This is supposed to be a smart New York movie with snappy lines filled with wit and cynical insight. Instead, * the character installed in the movie specifically for the purpose of funny one-liners gives us “I hear you have invaded the female nation and are spreading your democracy”. Of course, he was not the only person responsible for bad one-liners. Our hero the great thinking penis also gets in a few good ones. When faced with skeleton girls almost naked form the obviously dedicated architect goes “Wow! Now that’s what I call structural integrity”. I cannot think of a single intelligent thing said in the course of the entire movie, except for “Maybe we should all kill ourselves”. Oh wait, that wasn’t in the movie. It may have been wishful thinking.
In conclusion, I do not believe that this is merely some bad movie. I believe that this movie is a warning from God. God sent this movie here as a test to us all. It is important that we realise this and heed his message. If enough people go see this movie and it becomes any sort of success, God will kill us all in waves of fire and great white sharks, and the characters in this movie will all come back as the four horsemen of the apocalypse. So do your part to save the world. Stand outside the theatres in picket lines and beg and implore all around you to not watch this movie. If required, use your live bodies as barriers to prevent people from entering the theatre. You may lose a limb or the life of a dear one, but trust me, in the final analysis, it’s worth it and you would have done your part to save humanity.