Sunday, November 2, 2008

Ebs Just Gave Me the Heebs

No matter how dreadful a movie seems at the outset, I usually try to tough it out to the end. Best case scenario, it picks up a bit and I’m pleasantly surprised. Worst case scenario, at least I’ll be able to cogently state my case when I tell everyone it blows. For example, earlier tonight I was watching The Abandoned, and had I been watching alone I would have shut it off after eight minutes because the opening was slow like honey and poorly filmed. But I wasn’t alone, and I was pleasantly surprised when it turned out to be a pretty good movie once it got rolling. And on the flipside, because I sat through all one hundred and five excruciating minutes of Doomsday, I feel comfortable saying it’s the worst movie I’ve seen in 2008.

This seems like a solid method to movie reviewing, which is why there was a minor shitstorm when Roger Ebert recently posted a negative review of the indie movie Tru Loved after having seen only the first eight minutes. That he disclaimed this fact at the end of his review did not stop said shit from storming.

So Ebert did the old mea culpa schpiel acknowledging his error. Then he watched the rest of the movie and issued forth a longer and even more brutal review of the movie. And the filmmakers can’t be the only ones now wishing he’d stopped after those eight minutes, because the new, extended review (available here, along with the original missive) contains the following, disturbing view into Roger Ebert’s libido:

I've kissed a fair number of girls and you could never hear us smacking. I've seen a fair number of kisses in the movies, and can't remember anyone smacking. After 15 seconds, Tru pulls away: "I'm thrilled you're hetero, but you don't need to prove it on your first date." Said in real life? Not often. He presses his case: "Can I please just feel you up?" This is a question that is usually asked in body language, not words. Your ol' dad here has copped a fair number of feels in his lifetime, and he never asked first. Sometimes he sure shoulda, but you live and learn.

Yup, I’m not gonna sleep well again until I drink enough to erode those words from my memory.


Sex Mahoney for President said...

I can't even imagine that it's fun to be Roger Ebert. If I had to watch every single movie that comes out, I think my heart would collapse in on itself and take the rest of the universe with it.

Always ask before you cop a feel; however, once permission has been granted, it's fair game until it's revoked. Sometimes, I run into ex-girlfriends that I haven't seen in years and I grab their breasts just to remind them that they never told me I couldn't anymore.

Sex Mahoney for President

smd said...

True, there's something to be said about keeping separate the things you love to do and the things you have to do. Which is why I'll never try to become a professional absinthe drinker.

And I can only imagine at least one of those ex-girlfriends has or will remind you that you never revoked their permission to knee you in the groin.

Sex Mahoney for President said...

Are you kidding, that's in a standard breakup contract? What do you do when you split up with someone, just tell them you never want to see them again and sleep with their friends? What about pet and favorite hangout visitation privileges? Or nude picture distribution rights?

smd said...

Favorite hangout rights always go to the one who got dumped, always. Nude picture distribution rights go to whoever has the largest family or most public job, or whoever is least attractive, so they can control the information flow and minimize or maximize damage as they see fit.