Friday, March 17, 2006

Movie Reviews: One Year Too Late

A still from "War of the Worlds". That's so strange -- the girl next to Dakota Fanning... wearing the same expression I had on throughout the entirety of the film. And the same hat.

When Steven Spielberg's "War of the Worlds" came out last year, I had little to no motivation to see it. Tom Cruise, Dakota Fanning... I'd much rather spend the night watching old Smothers Brothers Betamax tapes.

Memo to Tom-kota: Here's real on-screen chemistry for ya.

But yesterday, thanks to the alluring convenience of M.O.D. ("Movies on Demand", not to be confused with rap group M.O.P., which means "Mash Out Posse"), I ordered "War of the Worlds" with some friends, as I was in the mood for something action-y and dumb, in the lines of, say, "Independence Day." Well who knew "Independence Day" would be Shakespeare compared to this shit?

OK, first of all, Tom Cruise is supposed to be this rugged ass construction worker guy, who lives in a shanty in Jersey somewhere. He is poor. He's a real... you know, "guy". He doesn't even know what hummus is... Then how is it, Mr. Spielberg, that this so-called poor "man" is wearing Paper Denim & Cloth jeans? Forget that I happen to be a devoted PD&C fan. (Those inseams go on for miles!) THIS IS SUPPOSED TO BE A STRAIGHT, POOR, BLUE COLLAR GUY who knows SHIT about MIDDLE EASTERN DIPS! Yet you expect me to believe that he shops at fucking Barneys? (Or Filene's Basement, where I tend to purchase me own pairs?) Scoff x infinity.

One of roughly 435,000 screenshots incorporating the verb "to clutch".

OK, fine. I'll let the whole designer wardrobe thing go because, as I'll learn later, it will turn out to be the least aggravating thing about this movie.

Hey, here's an idea! OK, when you're standing on asphalt and the ground begins to split open, and giant mechanical monsters with laserbeam hands seem to spring to life from the sewers, you might want to GET THE FUCK OUT OF THERE instead of just standing around to see what happens next.

The only time the following two words will ever, ever make sense when used together: "Poor Spielberg."

And another thing: When a crazy child molester in a dirty, shit-stained wife beater (Tim Robbins, natch), beckons you into his damp cellar by waving a rifle at you? Best idea not to go in.
The more I think about this movie, the more infuriated I am... these aliens had no heart! No life! And guess what (SPOILER ALERT)... do you know how the movie ends? These humongous monsters just drop. dead. There is no all out war, no clever alien-hack that leads to their demise. Tom Cruise says to a soldier on the road "What's happening?" and the man literally says "I don't know, sir! They began acting erratically! They were walking around in circles!"

The aliens simply fall over and die. WHAT KIND OF A MOVIE IS THIS!!! Seriously, anyone have a latte they need made... cause there's steam coming OUT of my EARS. (My humor has been sufficiently dumbed down... you can thank "War of the Worlds" for that.) The movie ends with Morgan Freeman explaining that they weren't immune to the bacteria in our water. Dude (meaning Spielberg) seriously? If they're going to die from a bacterial disease, let it be something fun, like a yeast infection. I don't think it's completely impossible for an alien to stockpile a couple of BRITTA water filters.

Oh, this movie. I'm still fuming. In fact, the only saving grace in this film... and God, I can't believe I'm about to say this... was DAKOTA FANNING.

"Heyuhhhhhh, guys? I-uhhh... I dun't feel so good... yeah, I tink I'ma gonna go lie down for, you know... ETERNITY."

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