10 June, 2011

It's Friday: Let's Say Some Things We're Going to Regret!

So, this past Wednesday, I had the pleasure of watching a slasher flick called Sick Girl. Not my usual sport, the slasher genre. The only one I like is The Texas Chainsaw Massacre. I laughed all the way through the first twenty minutes of Nightmare on Elm Street and then turned it off. I fell asleep in Angie Doom's lap halfway through The Hills Have Eyes. And Evil Dead doesn't count as a slasher flick; it counts as an Oscar snub.

Pictured: Best Actor, Best Picture, Best Director, Best Fucking Everything
So, I'm probably unqualified to say anything about the movie or the genre.
But I'm going to anyway.
The only segment of the movie you need is from 1:03:47 to 1:08:20. It will seriously be worth the cost of rental or the legal penalties resulting from illegal downloading to witness that four minutes, thirty three seconds of movie magic.
Everything else though? It'd be way too mean if I said they could've shoved it in the garbage disposal. I really don't like to be mean to people I don't know. I like to be mean to people when I'm face to face with them because I get a tiny thrill and a total hate-on when I tell someone to their face how shitty they are. Beside that, Sick Girl had some promising points. The trouble was that the acting, the screenplay, the sound mixing, and sundry other elements of the film could not be counted.
So, even though it's Friday and our professed goal on Fridays is to piss people off, let's try to offer up some constructive criticism. It was the writer/director/producer's first outing... in 2007. According to IMDb, he's put a few more titles under his belt. He's probably taken his licks regarding Sick Girl, learned a few dos and don'ts of his craft that I know nothing about, and has put together a string of products of generally increasing quality.
Because after Sick Girl, he had nowhere to go but up.

Pictured: Beating a joke into the ground.
So, I guess that I can't really offer any constructive criticism when he's moved on in the four years since his first flick. How could I? I've never made a movie in my fucking life.
So, I guess we're back to pissing people off. I was going to try to fold a movie review into our Friday Piss Off which, admittedly, would've been a cop out but, hey, one of you free loadin' sons o' bitches try coming up with something every day for free. Jesus, at least click some ads while you're here.
And who can I piss off? I suppose I could take on the entitled prick asshole who tried to check out and then ask for the new pass code for the door so he could come back to collect his things out of the room. That he was supposed to vacate. And the milquetoast guy behind him trying desperately to get his room. And that somehow these two guys turned my morning into such a clusterfuck that, I shit you not, it's taken me an hour and a half to get this far.
For real. An hour and a half. And I still haven't made a jack-off joke yet.
But I always bitch about work and how would this be different, mon petit illiterati, from the other six days of the week? After all, this is supposed to be Friday.

You knew it was coming.
So, who can I piss off? Hmm...
How about the titular (huh-huh, "titular") Sick Girl, Leslie Andrews?
See, I know that what I'm about to do defies all logic but fuck it. I'm a grown goddamned man, I'm honest with myself when I look in the mirror. I know that I haven't even a snowball's shot in hell of ever, ever, I mean fucking ever bedding this bird.

Le sigh.
I will never meet her in person. I will never fumble over my words in front of her. I will never get to use any of my patented moves on her (hey, they work). I will never engage in any level of conversation with her. There will never be a window of opportunity for me to get into before I'm put in the friend zone. I'll never have to have that awkward silent moment when I find out she's banging some other dude... or if she's a lesbian - hey, I don't know, maybe she's a lesbian. I've seen her in one fucking movie. Like I'm supposed to know everything about her?
But working from the angle that she's into guys, I will never, ever, ever, ever have a shot with her. And while I want one, oh, fuck, how I want one, let me break it down for you, cousin: I understand how reality works. So I know that what I'm about to do will not exactly kill any chances. Even if she Googles herself and finds herself in the hallowed halls of SD&A, gets offended, and wants to start a comment war, I will not have actually shot myself in the foot.
I can't believe I'm actually about to do this.
This is one of those things I need a double shot of whiskey to pull off.
Where the fuck do I get the gall to do this?
This is right up there with the time I turned down sex.
Deep breath.
Here we go.
It's Friday: Let's Piss Off a Woman I RRReeeaaalllyyy Want to Sleep With!
An Open Letter to Leslie Andrews
Dear Leslie -
Nope. I can't do it. Can we start over?
Shit. OK.
It's Friday: Let's Piss Off a Woman to Whom I RRReeeaaalllyyy Want to Give the Business!
Hey, Leslie,
How are you? I'm just writing because -
Fuck. No. If the screen were a sheet of paper, I'd be crumpling it up and tossing it in the bin, right now.
It's Friday: Let's Piss Off a Woman With Whom I RRReeeaaalllyyy Want to Listen to Black Flag Records!
Leslie. You can't -
Say it! Just say it, you ponce!
Damn it!
It's Friday: Fuck It! It was Never Going to Happen Anyway!
Leslie, that was some shitty acting.
There. I said it.
I'm sure you're cool and all. I'm sure we might have some things in common. Acting skills probably being one of them.

And self-deprecating at the same time!
Now, yeah, I know 'shitty' is going too far but you have to understand I give no quarter. The guy who was into fuck-bots? Yeah. Me and him agree that the world could probably use some more fuck-bottery than what is already present. But I still took him to task. So fair is fair. And believe me, my guts are turning a little right now. Granted that's probably the coffee but there's no way to soften the word 'shitty'.
Maybe with a stool softener.
So what has me saying 'shitty'?
First, understand that this is only in reference to your work in Sick Girl.
OK. Your physical movements? Plus. I totally believed you being a completely bonkers psychopath.
When you get all worked up and scream? That? That totally had me. I believed that you were on the brink of going off the deep end.
When you had to pull out the occasional crazy eyes? Nneemenerrmeehhaahhhhh, not so much. If you want, I have an ex who is desperate to meet celebrities and does a pretty bad-assed crazy eye. But that's because she's crazy. I can hook you up but I gotta warn you, she can get a little Rebecca De Mornay. Nobody wants that but, if you get desperate for some crazy eye training, look me up. I'm not hard to find. In fact, I'm sure you're ticking off a list of things to say about me right now because I said 'shitty'.
The biggest problem? Subtlety. Your subtlety needs a little work. You did a lot better in Actors. (Yes, I'm watching your stuff. Because I think you're hot and I'm a lonely man with an unfulfilling and boring desk job.) But your subtlety in the role of Izzy? It was a bit forced. OK, so, honestly, too forced. Those moments, where your character had the floor and could do a bit of a monologue of sorts, were when I totally wasn't buying that you were a raving lunatic. The first twenty, thirty minutes or so of the movie? I thought that was part of the aesthetic of the character, like the back and forth with Barney, I thought OK, maybe Izzy's persona is supposed to be a little wooden and forced to illustrate just how much of a break with reality she's undergoing. That would probably help to reinforce the clinical diagnosis of a psychopath, particularly the part that insists that a psychopath has trouble sympathizing or relating to others around her. But then it just kept going like that and I couldn't believe that the portrayal was an aesthetic choice.
What can I tell you?
I'm a desk jockey.
I sit around all day and do virtually nothing.
You? You're acting. That's cool. You're doing something with your life that's more than likely going to take you further than I'll ever get. Hell, you did a Dollhouse. I'll never do a Dollhouse. Granted, your episode of Dollhouse will probably be the only episode of Dollhouse I'll ever watch. (Yes, we've been over this, because I think you're wicked hot. OK? You happy? Do I have to come out and say, 'Damn, boo, I like that little love handle thing you got going on'? Because I'll say that if it means we can put to rest the subject of me thinking you're hot.)
So, take comfort in that. Don't let one guy who says you did some shitty acting in one movie you did four years ago get you down. Rub it in his face - oh, fuck, the directions my mind just went - that you're infinitely more successful than he is.
In fact, fine. Fuck it. I'm a tit for tat - just keeps going downhill - guy. I said you did some shitty acting. Here, you can tell me I did some shitty everything. If you click this link, you will find my band's entire recorded output. Ten fucking records of varying length. I worked as hard on those as you work on your craft. I insult you, you insult me. It's cool. I'm a big boy. I can take my licks.
And in the gutter my mind goes again.
IMDb says you have a birthday coming up in about two months. We'll be the same age (and you, perhaps, will be far less of an overgrown child than I am). So happy birthday. I found turning thirty to be quite pleasant, I hope you will as well.

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