Last year, Netflix murdered the Friends portion of their website. This was a dick move. How was I to know what other like-minded people were enjoying? How were my buddies supposed to see my hilarious* mini-reviews? They credited the couldn’t-possibly-be-true statistic that only 2% of subscribers used the Friends page as the reason for its untimely demise. Being a member of that minute group, I decided to treat their website like a gallon of spoiled 2% milk — using it sparingly, hating myself the entire time. I update my queue and call it a day. There’s nothing for me there. I’d switch to Blockbuster, if they weren’t already sitting in a trash can, causing a stink.
So instead of stewing over this shocking lack of respect from a billion dollar company, I’ll just treat this space as my new Friends page. I’ve watched a veritable assload of films over the last few years, so this may be a multi-parter.
* not true
It’s Kind of a Funny Story: It’s kind of One Flew Over the Cuckoo’s Nest, but made for tweens that cut themselves because Miley got high that one time. Nahthankya.
Cyrus: If the filmmakers’ goal was to make me hate actors I normally love, well then congratulations, I turned off your movie after 45 minutes. You can pick up your award when I see you in Hell.
Faster: If you look at the poster too fast (irony?), it looks like Farter. So, that’s something.
Winter’s Bone: Jennifer Lawrence makes meth and mountain folk look hot. The hills have eyes, and they’re staring at your boobies.
Flakes: Oh, you’ve never heard of this Zooey Deschanel-starred indie movie about a cafe that only serves cereal? I guess you were too busy adhering to the status quo. *sips gazpacho, trims bangs*
Public Enemies: Sure, it looks great, but so do I when I wear tank tops. It’s all surface with no substance underneath (I need to start working out more than just my glamour muscles).
Persepolis: I was disappointed to discover that this wasn’t about Frankie Persepolis, father of the modern gyro food truck. Why is his story left untold?
Clash of the Titans: I was disappointed to discover that I had confused this with the original Clash of the Champions where Sting fought Ric Flair to a draw. Why is this classic left unappreciated?
Cop Out: The nicest thing I can say about this is it didn’t make me suffocate a small animal. The goodwill that Bruce, Tracy, and Kevin built up over the years probably saved your life, Cat That Lives Next Door.
Twilight: Here’s the thing: this is genuinely terrible. Like, unbelievably terrible. But when the credits started to roll, I thought to myself, “Well, time to watch the next one.” I need to know how this bullshit ends, kind of like witnessing a hanging. Is he going to poo himself? I don’t want to see that, but I kind of do.
Twilight: New Moon: No poo-filled pants yet, but there’s still two more to go. Fingers crossed.
Repo Men: I have no recollection of this movie, other than Jude Law slicin’ throats and finally embracing his receding hairline. I’m sure those were the director’s exact intentions.
Greenberg: You know what you’re getting into when you watch a Noah Baumbach film: dudes that hate themselves, elitism, awkward sex, i.e., everything relatable to me. 5 thumbs up!
Crazy Heart: Just like The Wrestler, but minus the spandex and spray tans, i.e., everything relatable to me. 5 thumbs down!
The Blind Side: Sandra Bullock changed that boy’s life. These methods are totally universal. Just be a rich, hot white lady, basically kidnap a poor black kid, and then make him a millionaire. It’s. That. Simple. If some tarted-up broad on The Wire had asked Wallace to come stay with her, maybe he would have ended up playing for Coach Taylor and East Dillon. OH WAIT, HE DID. Also, this movie is terrible.