All I can say is WOW! And the Eagle was not harmed … or so the morons that released him inside claim.
All I can say is WOW! And the Eagle was not harmed … or so the morons that released him inside claim.
Okay, I haven’t “not” seen a movie recently that really inspired me to write a review … until this gem. From what I’ve been able to figure out from the trailers — and terrible reviews that I kinda have not read — superstar Will Smith dies pretty early in this bomb … leaving us stuck watching the movie star version of Justin Bieber — Jaden Pinket-Smith. Add M. Night Shamalama-dingdong, and this movie screams … run away!!!
I’m guessing this movie really really sucked – guessing, because I have no actual idea what actually happens in this movie, having wisely decided to instead spend the $15 ticket price on a bottle of mass-produced California Chardonnay sold at Ralphs. The alternative was to give Will Smith my $15, which he will spend on a $1200 bottle of Bordeaux he is drinking at this moment in the South of France, laughing at all of the morons who saw the latest screen credit he bought for his son.
Now, for a plot summary … based on pure speculation, and 3 minutes of trailer footage. Will Smith and his son are a Father-Son spaceship team, out on a really political correct mission for humanity — maybe looking for a planet that has an organic drug to cure narcissism. We learn that humanity now lives on a planet called “Terra” or “New Earth” or “Bel Aire” in the Andromeda Galaxy. The reason for this is “old Earth,” went to hell following Sony’s decision in 2019 to stop funding more MEN IN BLACK movies. Things are going great on Will and Jaden’s ship, which probably involves one scene where they both do an ancient art-form called “rap”, cause they’re the coolest space Dad-Son combo ever – until Jaden does something stupid … like trying to think.
If I had to bet it all on what makes the ship crash, I’d go with WIll goes to bed, and gives his “irresponsible” son a job. Will (in spacesuit): “Don’t hit the button that says ‘auto-destruct.’” Jaden, being a sneeze above a vapid moron, promptly hits the button, and next thing you know, the flying partybus is burning through “old earth’s” atmosphere.
With seconds to spare — and a real movie to star in, filming in St. Tropez – Will tells his son he “loves” him … then shoots out an airlock and dies. That I kinda saw in the trailer. Sorry for the SPOILER, but I’m pretty sure Will dies. And if you were stupid enough to see the movie, pretty sure you just got it up the wazoo with the old “bait and switch.” Have fun watching Jaden try to run from CGI animals and “monsters” for the next 70 minutes.
The movie ends of course when Jaden, after a forgettable adventure staring blankly at green screen monsters, finds “something” that nobody cares about … probably an “ancient” communications station, so he can contact his massive agent team at CAA to rescue him. He flies off on the agency supership, literally spilling “crocodile tears” over his dead Dad — literally as the entire Pinket-Smith family lubricates their eyes with imported Ugandan Crocodile saliva — and the movie thankfully ends, leaving a stunned audience with a “WTF” bubble over their heads.
Having picked on poor, or rich, Jaden, I should point out there is another villain in this movie scam. M. Night Shamalama-dingdong. After UNBREAKABLE, which I really really liked, M. Night has been phoning it in. I like random supernatural shit, but M. Night’s not even trying anymore. That said, I didn’t focus on him in this “hater” review, as my guess is that Jaden locked M. Night in the post-production team’s Porta Pottie, and told the DP to just film this “bitch,” and make me look “good.”
And that is AFTER EARTH. In theory, my review could be wrong, given I did not see the movie. But I’m pretty sure I’m not wrong. Actually, I am completely sure I’m not wrong. AFTER EARTH is horrible. My alternate movie recommendation … MEN IN BLACK.
Rock on, Will Smith. You are a talent. Not sure about the rest of the clan …
Sorry about the silence. I was summoned to save U.S. television, and I think I did it. That said, I won’t tell you what show I made more awesome. The only hint being … your wife probably watches it. And it’s on Lifetime. And it involves a dead model living inside the body of a lawyer. And you don’t know what I’m talking about …
Now, to the point. Great things are coming on Ramblings in the next few weeks, and here are the previews! Assuming anyone still cares. I know that Howard Feldman cares. He’s my cousin’s friend, and is very supportive. Now for a PREVIEW of the articles that you can expect to love in the next few weeks!
Game of Thrones Mid-Season Report Card: Who knew Jon Snow could eat “P” like a champ?
Deadliest Catch. At what point don’t’ we give a shit about how much crab they catch? Never.
Bravo Real Housewives of El Paso/Suarez. Prostitution Cartel Whore.
Ramblings’ Politics: Elections mean nothing. We live in an alien dictatorship. I’m serious. The TimeLords are returning (see Dr. Who preview).
Ramblings’ Not at the Movies: Hangover III Total Shit.
Dr. Who Greatest Show Ever. Better than universal peace. And Timelords returning.
Rex Ryan eats himself.
Bigfoot Finders, Inc. founder, Wyeth Crestlow, announced that in the next episode of Channel 67′s breakout hit, Where the Fuck is Bigfoot?, viewers will be treated to a special two-hour episode which ends with no sighting of Bigfoot. This is a major change in format from all of the other episodes of the show, which end after one hour – without anything even close to a Bigfoot sighting.
Speaking in hushed whispers from the teacher’s lounge at Womack Elementary School, Creslow declared that “What I feel distinguishes this super special, two-hour episode of Where the Fuck is Bigfoot? from all of the other 154 one-hour episodes where we also found no evidence of a 800 pound, ten foot tall primate – that survives undetected in our grossly overpopulated country, and we now know is immortal given that no bones have ever been found – is the great cliffhanger ending. Did we find Bigfoot? Fuck no. But we’re getting close!”
Nope, even though I live a mile away … for some reason lost to me and involving a ridiculous legal document called a Restraining Order, I will not attend this year. But I can still share my immense knowledge and wisdom to make some predictions which I guarantee will come true. So let’s get this bitch rollin.
First, the HOST. Seth MacFarlane. Funny, sarcastic, a perpetual self-satisfied smirk on his face — he will be really really funny, and really really hated by the Monday Morning pundits as they “grade” the host. One reason for this is that everybody over the age of 45 will have no idea who he is — while everyone under the age of 45 will be confused as to how the Family Guy guy got the gig. But not as confused as the Anne Hathaway and James Franco dynamic duo. Poor Anne. Franco set her up. Because that’s what stoner’s do.
Lincoln. Daniel Day Lewis takes out his putter and knocks the ball in … the distance of the putt being two inches. Although there is a chance that Denzel — staying in character from Flight — gets so drunk that he knocks Lewis to the ground, grabbing the Oscar, and drops his pants, soiling the coveted award. I wouldn’t mind seeing the Pi kid win, since I heard his screaming as the Tiger eats his liver was loud and really realistic.
Katniss Everdeen. The scene where she climbs the tree and shoots arrows at Woody Harrelson had me glued to my chair. And the scene where she’s in another tree shooting arrows. Or the scene where she’s running, shooting arrows, like a female Legolas, but with more testosterone … Jen Lawrence earned this one, big time. Upset pick. The little kid from the New Orleans movie. Her speech consisting of thanking her CAA team, her publicity team, her management team, her puppy, CHOMPY, oh, and her legal team …
BEST SUPPORTING ACTRESS.
“I dreamed a dream … I’m French and starving … and a whore … la la la.” Anne Hathaway nailed that song, which is why she nails a guy named Oscar tonight. Good job Annie … Tiny chance that Sally Field steals it, basically because she was amazing in NORMA RAY, but hopefully we don’t see that.
BEST SUPPORTING ACTOR.
Christopher Waltz. At least based on merit, skill and a brilliant character. The reality is that who wins the award need not meet any of those criteria, which is why Deniro could win … for playing … Robert Deniro in Silver Lining Playbook — also called, my crazy son is really nuts and annoying.
Let’s see. Oh yeah, Tarantino for Dhango. But wait, he wasn’t nominated? Odd. So … ah, Affleck. What’s that you say? He’s not nominated either? Hmmm. Okay, the movie where the stupid guy from Parks and Recreation shoots Bin Laden. Bigelow’s not in the theater either? Which makes this award total crap. Spielberg obviously opened some very good bottles of wine in a lot of Hollywood Rest Homes when the Oscar Nominations were being voted on … which is why he wins for the rather boring biopic that is Lincoln. But how amazing would it be if the old French guy — who directed the old French movie that nobody saw, not even in France, because it’s about really old people — won? Spielberg may actually stand up and shout at the President of the Academy, “This is bullshit! I paid for this Henry! You’re a dead man! A fucking dead man! Your kids too!” While the French Director, whose name nobody cares about, babbles in French like he’s the Emperor of the Universe, the orchestra music trying to drown the pretentious asshole out. Might happen. But doubtful.
Argo will win, because everyone is perpetually amazed that Ben Affleck’s not the dumb fratboy that we want him to be. And Argo is good. I can live with it winning. But I’m not happy. Because …Dhango Unchained’s the best movie of the year. Period. Once again, Tarantino goes for it, giving us an amazing, edgy, and brutally hilarious movie that shocks and entertains. Unfortunately, the ancient academy voters won’t have the balls to vote for this masterpiece, or will vote for Life of Pi, because of the awesome scene where the Tiger eats the kid … about five minutes into the movie. Blood and guts everywhere, as the kid yells “Holy shit, there’s a Tiger on this boat!” Yes, that’s what actually happens. I dare you to watch Life of Pi and prove me wrong! I dare you! Knowing you won’t.
The logical post today was to rant about the SUPERBOWL, but it was so boring. I mean, when I passed out drunk just as the third quarter was starting, the score was 28-6, and one of those obnoxious Harbaugh parents had just pulled the power in the Superdome to even things out for little Jimmy. And one thing we know about New Orleans … once the lights go out, the party starts. Game over.
So, now to more important things. The movie that I know none of you saw, and I most certainly did not, as I’m still under a 100 years old — at least based on age — STAND UP GUYS.
Now don’t get me wrong. I’m not against seeing movies with old people. I love movies with old people. COCOON, STAR TREK 3: SEARCH FOR SPOCK, SEX AND THE CITY 2 – saw and loved all of them! I could watch a Walter Matthau movie any day, any time of the week. And as we all know, Walter Matthau was old in every one of his movies … even the ones back in the 1950s when he supposedly was really young … as in 57 years old.
My problem with seeing STAND UP GUYS is … you can just tell by the trailer that it really sucks. And this is why.
First. It seems that Pacino is this old crook, I think, that gets out of jail, or prison, and is picked up by old buddy, fellow bad guy and co-scenery chewer Christopher Walken. Only another old guy, I think some British codger not on DOWNTON ABBEY,, tells Walken to kill Pacino, presumably for over-acting in his last 11 movies, but Walken decides to spend one last big day with the multi-Oscar/facelift recipient, so they can keep telling the audience over and over again what a good time they are having. At least that’s what I keep seeing in the trailer. Though not the actual movie … which I have no plans of ever viewing.
So, what does this tell me? First, were I to waste my money and time watching STAND UP GUYS, I guess I’d be forced to endure them spending an “amazing” day together … while worrying about when Walken’s gonna put a bullet into one of Pacino’s fake cheekbones. But I’m pretty sure their day’s not that amazing. Or fun. Or anyone really gives a shit about any of their crap. This is why.
The comedy appears to be entirely based on old jokes/references, and false forced camaraderie. The scene where they are in a car with Alan Arkin, and one of them doesn’t know how to start it, cause you have to “hit the button” says it all. I don’t know much, but I do know that old people fucking know how to start cars. They don’t understand DVR’s, or the interweave … but they certainly get Cadillac ignition systems. And driving buzzed … though they don’t fully get brakes. Terrible scene. Terrible movie. I think.
Then there’s the “bro-mance” that they’re pushing. The commercials I saw promoting this – commercials being the only way you market movies to 90 year olds — compared it to THE BUCKET LIST. While I never saw The Bucket List, as I’m saving it for my actual bucket list five years from now when the gout finally takes me, I’m fairly confident that Stand Up Guys wouldn’t be a movie that Nicholson and Freeman would put on the list. That’s because it seems so … fake. That’s the only word for it. As fake as Pacino’s eyebrows.
For example, there’s another scene in the trailer — I studied the trailer by the way — where Pacino tells Walken that they’re having a “better” time now than when they were young. Young being in the 1970s. Really? You don’t know how to turn on a car, and your creepy best friend is about to shoot you — but everything is still more fun than when you were doing Coke and three way-ing with Cheryl Tiegs and Mick Jagger in the basement of Studio 54? I don’t buy it, and neither would you. Were you moronic enough to buy a ticket.
Plotwise, it seems pretty obvious. Walken has a dilemma about killing Pacino. Finally he decides to off the obnoxious loudmouth, but my guess is Pacino gets him first. Because that’s in Pacino’s contract. Nobody gets to take him out, even when he so deserves it. Just watch HEAT. Deniro should have won that battle … yet annoying, camera mugging Pacino puts a bullet in Deniro’s blessed head. Annoying. Only word for it … and Pacino. Oh yeah, fake too.
And so is STAND UP GUYS. Not because it’s about old people. But because it sucks. At least I think it does, but then again … I didn’t see it. And I’m kinda old.
Sorry that Ramblings has not been too active in 2013 … but the New Year hasn’t been that active either. As in … a lot of nonsense going on. Non-stories, recycled stories, or just plain dumb-ass stories. Let’s take a look.
We had an inauguration! Granted it was a second term inauguration which isn’t as big a deal but … still should have been a fun event. Only, the giant story out of it is Beyoncé lip synching. Wolf Blitzer reporting this outrage with his typical deadpan, soul-less delivery, trying to convince us that we should be interested/concerned/upset/ecstatic over such mundane crap. Who gives a shit if she did her own singing? We’re a sneeze away from a Depression, and the Middle East is invading Africa. Not to mention that China is going green. Crazy, right? Wrong. Beyoncé deciding to rest her beautiful pipes in the cold is far more important … at least according to 2013.
We had a BCS National Championship game … and I honestly don’t know who won, because the only thing being reported is that some dude, Manti Te’o, on Notre Dame, who wasn’t the QB, had a fake Samoan girlfriend, who supposedly was dying, but didn’t die, but didn’t actually exist, because it was all a prank about cancer done up by another Samoan guy, King Tiki Tiki … blah blah blah. This story belongs on News of the Weird, or on Hawaiian local access. Stop reporting it! Once again, the moron wasn’t even the QB, so who cares! And his team lost. I really did know who won, by the way. That said, Te’o Dumbo would make a nice addition to the Jets defense. Rex Ryan loves morons. They speak his language.
What else has 2013 brought us? Let’s see … 49ers in Superbowl playing … Ravens? Ravens are old. Moses old! Unless Ray Lewis shows up wearing his murder suit, I think it’ll be a one sided, 49ers affair.
I think that’s about it. No, wait. Lance Armstrong confesses … about something he did years ago, that we all know he did, even when he claimed he didn’t do it. What a jerk. Stop putting the guy on the screen. Unless he does something awful, and new. But that ain’t happening in 2013.
Oscars is a story. Some big Best Director snubs. Tarantino, Bigelow, Ben Affleck. I was very worked up about the inexcusable omissions when I first heard … then I remembered that all of the Directors are pampered, narcissistic millionaires. Boo hoo you big babies. Next story.
But there really isn’t an interesting tale in 2013.
Hold it. Got one. Gerard Depardieu becomes Russian citizen to avoid French taxes. So obese actor, who hasn’t had a hit since Greencard — I don’t count Frenchie films — wants to leave socialist country for … socialist country? Okay, that’s a pretty hilarious tale … that belongs on page 14 of a local rag. Let’s keep moving.
Come on 2013! Gimme something to work with … a sex scandal at least.
Or a big celebrity affair! But so far … no. Though the pool boy has been coming on Tuesdays … and I don’t own a pool. Where’s my wife?!
Break out the tea and crumpets, because Laura Linney’s favorite rich, lazy white people are back in action — or inaction — in what promises to be a tension filled season of missing shirts, bad investments, and gallons of hair grease. Having watched the two hour season premiere, I thought I’d share some observations before me and my falcon, Heroditus, tour my estate on our morning constitutional.
Oh, and SPOILER ALERT … I’m about to spoil the premiere, so if you are a Downton fan, yet haven’t watched it yet (highly unlikely), there’s an excellent Dutch porn site just a click away from here with your name on it. Now to the fun!
Mr. Bates is nobody’s bitch. I’ve watched some OZ in my time, so I’m an expert on prison rape. It always happens, and not as romantic as you’d think. But nobody’s putting any objects in Mr. Bates’ pantry, who let us know big time in a rare Downtown “action” scene that he is the Daddy of cellblock ancient. Oh, and he’s also interested in work gossip, and Can-can dancing … vicariously of course, through his wife, detective Miss Marple.
Lord Grantham is a financial idiot. Putting all of your heiress wife’s fortune in a Canadian train company? Really? Canada? Because you thought Canadian train stock would rise, thanks to a European world war? Canada? Have you been to Canada, Lord Grantham? There’s only like 100,000 Canadians, and they don’t move around. The whole place is just open space, with giant wolves on the prowl, and a few fortified cities (to protect them from the wolves) … one of which is filled with fake French. Canadian trains? And I’m not alone in believing that Lord Grantham is mentally challenged. Lady Grantham in at least three scenes rips him to various do-nothing members of the family … and this judgment coming from a very medicated moron.
Shirley MacLaine loves the sun. I mean, she’s like the psycho tanning Mom. Or at least that’s what the Dowager Countess thinks, as Maggie Smith drops at least ten bad bombs about Mrs. Levison’s tanning habits. Okay, I get it … except that Shirley MacLaine looks like a corpse. Literally. Pale, bloated white skin. And pretty sure I saw a maggot peeking out of that wig.
Tuxedos are the jean shorts of 1920. Holy shit, I had no idea that wearing a tuxedo was so trashy. If I wear a tuxedo, I feel like the Lord of the Castle, but apparently real Lords with castles won’t be caught dead in them, cause then other aristocrats, properly dressed, will order drinks from them. That makes me so … indignant! Wait a second! The Dowager Countess was part of the whole waiter bit. She’s such a trouble maker. But I love the old bird.
Cancer existed in 1920. I had no idea. Really. Thought the Pox was the big thing. That and the plague of course. Oh yeah, TB took out a lot of staunch white people as well. But cancer … wow. Thought it was invented in like 1950. Wonder if they had lasers in 1920? They might have. Can you imagine the Dowager Countess with a laser? Look out America!
If you roofie an Irish guy, it doesn’t knock him out, but just makes him really drunk and belligerent. No shit Sherlock. You’d think the British would have figured that out by now … though the incident took place in 1920. But pretty sure Irish and alcohol predates 1920 … by a few thousand years. And by the way … what type of British Lord carries around roofies? Lord Grey’s son for one! That was so fucking random. Winston, please pack my snuff box, and fill it with roofies in case I want to play a “prank” at Lord Grantham’s party by drugging his peasant son-in-law. Boo! I’m so done with the Greys.
Tall people were discriminated against. Couldn’t believe how much shit the new footman Alfred took for being over 6’2″. And he was white! Today, he’d be a starter on Duke. But in the Downton Abbey universe, he’s treated like a … guy in a tuxedo. Though he did get some from the American servant … and mouse girl definitely has her rat whiskers twitching over the tall mess. Could we see a Downton threeway this season? Yeow!
Rich people love leaving Matthew Crawley money. Lots of money. Despite the fact that the dead people are barely related to him … or had their daughter’s dumped by him. Followed by their daughters killing themselves. Yet Matthew Crawley hates being left money. So much, that he gives it back, even though his wife loves free money. Hey, Lady Mary, you money grubbing bitch … leave Matthew Crawley alone. You have to respect his rejection of free, undeserved wealth. Because you know that some other old fucker’s gonna leave him even more money tomorrow. How do I know this? Matthew Crawley has a secret. He blows rich sick people. It’s his thing. It is.
You knew it was coming. There is no basement this blog will not dig through. Now enjoy the Christmas Cats! And hopefully non-confrontational family and high proof Holiday cheer!
Because all of us have an annoying Cousin Edgar. He may not be named Edgar, or even be a woman, but the type exists. You never liked them as kids, yet somehow, like clockwork, until the day you escape to the grave, Edgar will be there — exchanging presents with you in the month of December. But of course only spending a fraction of what you spend on him, because he’s fucking cheap Edgar. And annoying. And competitive with you, even though he went to an online college, has been divorced twice, and is missing the tip of a finger.
But rest assured. There is an escape from the ever present, stalker Edgar, as he follows you from room to room Christmas Eve, announcing to the crowd what number drink you’re on. The solution — grab a bottle of vodka, camp out in the Den, and put on a movie that will freak the shit out of lame Edgar! And here are some real winners:
One of the creepiest, unsettling pieces of cinema from the twisted mind of David Lynch. Can you say floating Fetus scene? Edgar’s primitive brain will be unable to process this cinematic art — resulting in his 83 year old Mother having to take him home early. Hurray!
BREAKFAST AT TIFFANY’S.
Putting this one on will really throw simple Edgar for a loop. His first instinct will be to tell everyone that you really are gay. Then, when he realizes that all of attractive women at the party are flocking around you, complimenting you on your taste in film, and crowing how gorgeous Audrey Hepburn’s dress is — he’ll realize the full extent of his defeat. Because Edgar is a fucking loser. And Audrey Hepburn is hot. Even for a dead chick.
I know you’re thinking — Waterworld sucks. But it doesn’t. It grows on you. Like a fungus. And best of all, Edgar doesn’t have the capacity to separate critical reviews from actual underlying merit. So he’ll flee from it, afraid of it’s perceived taint, leaving you alone … watching this glorious movie that never ends … which means you can isolate yourself from Edgar and the rest of your cretinous clan for about 4 hours — enjoying web-toed Kevin Costner as he splashes around on his catamaran with a bunch of rejects from the Mad Max movies. And don’t even start me on one-eyed Dennis Hopper making speeches about land, and pulling butts on a giant rusted oil tanker. Holla.
Any movie with THE STARTREK NEXT GENERATION cast.
Yes, there are Star Trek movies without Shatner, and without J.J. Abrams. Led by Patrick Stewart’s brilliant Captain Jean Luc Picard, these t.v. quality movies with painful plotting, and even worse acting, are pure kryptonite for any but the most hard-core of sci fi nerds. And as we’ve learned in the 21st century, there’s a certain coolness to nerd-dom, that pathetic Edgar can never understand. Which is why he’ll leave you the fuck alone while you endure Commander Data’s annoying questions about what makes us human. The answer Mr. Data — don’t wear so much fucking white makeup.
Considered perhaps the best terrible movie ever — this train wreck of a disaster is guaranteed to make Edgar’s tiny mind turn to glue. Five year old kids make better movies than Troll 2 — but they can’t make anything as bad. Which is the brilliance of Troll 2. It is so horrible to actually be genius. And the more you tell this to Edgar, the more he’ll shove sugar cookies in his mouth — his defensive mechanism from utter cluelessness. Resulting in him suffering a minor stroke — guaranteed to bring you years of mirth laughing at his dead arm.
This movie is so damn weird even I can barely watch it. Want to see an animated hottie in a bikini ride around on a dying bird, picking fights … all against a landscape that a YES album would envy? Heavy Metal is your flick. And not Edgar’s — who thinks cartoons are for children. But not video games. Because Edgar loves video games. And he’s 52.
THE HILLS HAVE EYES (the original)
Not the remake, but the original. One of the scariest movies ever made, when Wes Craven talent was at it’s goriest peak. There’s a scene where a mutant is just ripping flesh out of the side of a woman, and chewing. Ewww! Fat Edgar will never eat again after that piece of horror porn.
LORD OF THE RINGS: THE TWO TOWERS
Not the first movie, and not the third movie, but the second movie — special extended version — which is AWESOME. The one which opens with Gandalf being snared by a Balrog’s fire whip, and falling into the black abyss of Moria, The movie where Theoden, King of Rohan, leads his people — 500 New Zealand extras — into a claustrophobic keep, to protect them from a horde of Sarumen’s super orcs. Oh yeah, and do you recall an elf army showing up — all stoic, in their cool silver armor, complete with a care package for Orlando Bloom from his elf Mommy? I do — and hopefully you do — but Edgar won’t. He’ll be confused, disoriented and probably pee himself — forcing a quick exit. Leaving you in peace to soak in this Middle Earth masterpiece.
ADVISE & CONSENT.
This 1962, sophisticated, black and white political drama about the nomination process of a Secretary of State will have the same effect on Edgar as shooting a mouse with an elephant tranquilizer. His cow-like eyes will roll into his head, and he’ll just drop to the ground. But first you’ll have some fun as Edgar tells everyone to watch it, confusing it for IT’S A WONDERFUL LIFE, because that is the only movie Edgar’s ever seen that’s not in color. Because Edgar is a fucking cave man. And Advise & Consent is a sharp, intelligent piece of film-making — utterly beyond the comprehension of your imbecillic cousin.
WHOSE LIFE IS IT ANYWAY.
WARNING. This movie should only be watched as a last resort. If Edgar has somehow survived the prior nine movies, break out this indulgent 1980s flop. Richard Dreyfuss, 1981, at the height of his powers as an over-the-top, loud, obnoxious actor … playing a … over-the-top, loud, obnoxious quadriplegic. I have few memories worse than watching this movie — and that includes funerals, anxiety attacks and food poisoning on a plane — yet, Dreyfuss has his uses. This movie is guaranteed to destroy the will of almost any human being.
And that is my anti-asshole list. You’ll notice that there are not a lot of comedies on this list — though Dreyfuss has a couple of good snarky zingers as they’re changing his bedpan –and that is for a reason. Morons like Edgar like comedies, any comedy. And his favorite is … FLETCH. FLETCH must be avoided at all costs. Edgar will happily drool over it, trying to impress you by quoting Chevy Chase in every scene. ”And I’ll have the steak sandwich. And the steak sandwich.” If you see a copy of Fletch anywhere in your holiday venue — toss it into the fire. Then toss in a container of gasoline for good measure.