A Traitor to my Brain Cells and Eye Balls

In the last year, there have been a stunning number of films with extremely political themes, attacking the United States role in Iraq and in fighting terrorism. While I tend to agree with the political ideology of these movies, it doesn’t change the fact that each one of them brings my spleen one step closer to rupturing. Because movies that take strong stances on the US international agenda tend to be atrocious, director Jeffrey Nachmanoff came up with the brilliant idea of making a politically motivated film that takes absolutely no stance. In fact, it is difficult to tell if anything at all happens in Traitor, or what the film was about, or, more importantly, why anyone could possibly care. Honestly, during this movie I couldn’t tell if I was more confused by what the hell this movie was trying to say about anything or jealous of terror suspects in Guantanamo Bay getting waterboarded.

They agree to read the script first before they sign on to make a movie from now on.

Is it a criticism of the Bush administration? Is it promoting the idea that ignoring the constitution and taking away our personal freedoms is the only way to catch terrorists? Does this movie have any point whatsoever? Who is this black guy and is he good or bad? The only way to distract yourself from these migraine-inducing questions is to rip out your own fingernails. Don Cheadle’s performance in the film gives the impression that he was trying to take a nap all through filming and was distracted by the camera crew following him around making ludicrous demands of him to say his lines and emote. As for Guy Pearce, who gargles through an embarrassing southern accent, tries to pull off intense and intimidating, but is only able to pull off bashful and befuddled. Frankly, the awful performances of these two stars is more than this piece of garbage deserves. Whoever decided to make this movie needs to have their testicles strapped to a battery and electrocuted to make sure that they are never allowed to breed.

Vicky Christina Barcelona Shows that the Spanish Inquisition was a Good Thing

The only reason why Woody Allen makes a movie every year is to remind everyone that he is still alive. Frankly, looking at the dreadful products he’s put out this millennium, we could do without the reminder. Better yet, we could do to aim a machine gun at Woody’s head and unload a few rounds. Unfortunately, Allen’s latest sets out to prove not only that his heart is still beating, but that his penis is similarly in working condition. While this is far more information than anybody other than his daughter wife needs to know, Vicky Christina Barcelona boils down to Woody Allen convincing Scarlet Johansson to prance around in skimpy outfits and make out with Javier Bardem, Penelope Cruz, and, at times, both. While all straight men owe a debt of gratitude to Allen for the chance to see Cruz and Johansson go at it, it is not worth sitting through this awful, pointless film just to experience the momentary glory.

"Do you think Woody will realize that I don't speak English?"

Are we, honestly, supposed to care about the love problems of young, beautiful, wealthy women spending their summer in Barcelona? Does anyone think this could make for a gripping, moving, or, at the very least, watchable film? Packed with dumb and useless narration, Woody Allen has stopped trying to be clever, witty, or relevant, and Vicky Christina Barcelona is proof of that. Worse, he has centered his last crumbs of creativity around Scarlet Johansson, who has in her acting repertoire one facial expression and one tone of voice to accompany one fantastic rack. When you have terrible dialogue, I guess the best strategy is to only hire actors without a modicum of talent who are only known for their looks, but all it means is that Woody Allen, still searching for a place where people don’t think he’s a gross pedophile, has found a new location to make his shitty movies.

Can’t Even See This Shit: College

Everyone who sawthis movie reacted the same way.

Ah, college. The good old days. Everyone remembers the torturous agony, the unbearable pain, the constant desire to shove your head in a guillotine to end it all. Oh, wait, that’s not college, that’s the movie College. The latest flick about fat, ugly, stupid teenagers who have wacky adventures that result in growing emotionally, getting laid, and killing billions of my brain cells, College seems to have reached a new low in the genre, making the American Pie straight-to-DVD sequels look like high art. Never, under any circumstances, would I sit through College, but fortunately, that’s what the C.E.S.S. Pool is for. College tried to hide from the critics, hoping to avoid the thrashings it knew it would get, but a few brave people hunted it down and gave it the beating it deserved,

P.S. You might be wondering why Disaster Movie is not featured this week. I am so disgusted by the glut of spoof movies and their Satan-spawned creators that I refuse to give Disaster Movie the credit of being allowed into the C.E.S.S. Pool. Instead, I will give it a Dishonorable Mention.

Like a fraternity hazing, the film is sexist, gross, and simultaneously homophobic and homoerotic; like a freshman dying of alcohol poisoning, it’s not funny in the slightest. From Alonso Duralde of MSNBC

Andrew Caldwell is the definitive offender here… screaming his lines and furiously trying to “outfunny” his co-stars with his noxious variety of comedic larceny.. Caldwell is an inexcusable, exasperatingly vile screen presence in a film with considerable competition for such a title. From Brian Orndorf of This is Briandom

It’s difficult to laugh when you’re choking back vomit. From Geoff Berkshire of Metromix Los Angeles

Transsiberian Doesn’t Deserve a Clever Title About How Terrible it Is

Do you have a pulse? How about brain function? Can you differentiate between basic shapes? Congratulations! If you answered yes to the above questions, you are smarter than director Brad Anderson gives you credit for. Brad Anderson made his new film, Transsiberian, under the assumption that the only people who would go see it are coma victims, dead caterpillars, and the writers of the upcoming Beverly Hills Chihuahua. Considering that he took the most generic plot possible, and did absolutely nothing new or interesting with it, for some reason Anderson still felt the need to treat the audience like the retarded kindergarten class that isn’t allowed to have a pet hamster. Of course, the result is a movie that is not just terrible, not just dreadfully boring, but that makes you wonder: is it possible to rip out my esophagus and then eat it?

Is she scared? Is she masturbating? Nobody knows.

Please, don’t give in to these thoughts just because of Transsiberian. A movie this terrible just isn’t worth it. The story of a married American couple who get into crazy misadventures on a train from China to Russia could have been, at least, funny, but by treating this story with the importance of the second coming of Jesus, any gasp of life has been sucked out of it, and a predictable, melodramatic mess is all that remains. Woody Harrelson’s slack jawed and guffaw-filled imitation of a naïve American is the very definition of grating, and is the perfect example of a character you desperately want to be killed, hopefully in as painful a way as possible. Emily Mortimer’s embarrassing attempt at an American accent does nothing to help her dreadful performance, which consists of a quivering lip and wide eyes as a way of attempting to represent human emotion. Two terrible lead performances set the tone for a movie that fails at everything it attempts to do, except lead me to alcoholism as a way of escaping the pain.

Visiting Abu Gharib Would Be More Pleasant than Brideshead Revisited

To fully understand the overwhelming putrescence of Brideshead Revisited, it is easiest to compare it to the corpse of Anna Nicole Smith. Sure she’s pretty to look at, but after about thirty seconds you realize how useless and dull she is, and fucking her is extremely unfulfilling and just makes you feel dirty. Watching Brideshead Revisited requires a shower, a decontamination treatment, and a large amount of lye poured into my eyeballs so I don’t have to ever watch something this terrible again. People often complain about how generic Hollywood films are, but it seems that the most cookie-cutter genre is the costume drama, as directors clearly believe that they can just shove some tits into a corset, push a camera down a hallway, and call it art. Julian Jarrold proves himself to be an utterly incompetent director, taking a story that spans a decade and distilling it into an unfathomably boring film with terrible characters and an entirely undeveloped story that never goes anywhere, merely dragging on interminably.

Can they please be returned to the Ralph Lauren catalogue?

Other than a meaningless exploration of why Catholicism sucks, that couldn’t have been relevant when the book was written, much less now, Brideshead Revisited is, to put it nicely, extremely generic. Lovers separated? Poor people and rich people in love? These are things I’ve never heard of before. Never has elicit sex and heavy boozing been more lifeless, with more blank stares than actual drama or conflict. Mathew Goode clearly has no idea what the heck was going on during filming, and has no place in a community theater play, much less an actual movie. Fortunately, his non-performance is overshadowed by the terrible performances of every other actor. Watching Ben Whishaw moan and whimper, and Hayley Atwell stare pathetically, blending in with the walls, made me wonder why more of these characters weren’t dying of consumption. Coughing up blood doesn’t constitute emoting, but it would have been more exciting than anything else that happened in this comatose drama. Someone needs to strangle Merchant-Ivory wannabe Julian Jarrold with a corset so that he will never unleash another terrible costume drama on the world again.

Poll Closes Tomorrow!

So I’ve had this poll up since I started the site, and I’ve decided that I’ve given everyone enough time to decide which of the so called “greatest movies of all time” you want me to tear into, revealing that it is, in fact, garbage. If you haven’t voted yet, make sure you do so by tomorrow, Friday, at 9:00 AM, which is when I’m taking down the poll.

I’ll put up a new poll when I take down the old one. I won’t tell you what movies will be in it, but I’ll let you know what it’s about. There have been twelve movies that have been nominated for at least ten Oscars, and won at least eight. Of course, the worst movies every year tend to be the Oscar winners (No Country for Old Men, anyone?) so I’ll have fun reviewing one of those.

Barring any stunning upsets, last minute votes will decide between my reviewing Schindler’s List and Citizen Kane, so make sure to throw in your two cents before it’s too late. I’ll put up that review sometime next week (I saw the truly awful French film Tell No One, which I’ll review this weekend). Over the next week I’m dreading seeing Brideshead Revisited, Vicky Christina Barcelona, Man on Wire, and, if I can get to it, Hamlet 2. So look for reviews of all those in the coming weeks.

Can’t Even See this Shit: The Rocker

We all want to burn Rainn Wilson to death.

Have you ever wanted to shove a pair of drumsticks so far down your throat that you vomit up a combination of splinters and intestines, which you then use as shampoo? If not, then I would advise against going to see The Rocker, which will inspire more or less the same feeling. Of course, I can only assume that this is the case based on the commercials, because The Rocker, starring the ugly moron from The Office, looks to atrocious for me to risk seeing in theaters, lest I choke on my own tongue. Fortunately, that’s what the C.E.S.S. Pool is for. There are people braver than I who have risked their sanity in going to see The Rocker, and have come out to tell the tale of what they saw. Let’s find out what they have to say…

A pox I say, on the house of the individual who first told Rainn Wilson he was a funny man. For the inconsiderate moose that decided to open their trap and inspire this actor, I wish them the same discomfort I suffered while watching Wilson’s first starring effort, The Rocker. By Brian Orndorf of This is Briandom

Audiences would be better served staying home and playing Rock Band than wasting their time on something as leaden and unfunny as The Rocker. By Claudia Puig of USA Today

No charm, no ingenuity, and about as much comic verve as an internment camp. By Chris Cabin of FilmCritic.com

I’d Rather get Struck by Lightning than Watch Tropic Thunder

Recently, I wrote a review of The Pineapple Express, in which I expressed the opinion that no person on Earth is as intensely stupid, unfunny, and offensive to humanity as Judd Apatow. I must apologize for my hyperbole, and thank Ben Stiller for proving me wrong. Tropic Thunder is so detestable on every level that I wouldn’t be surprised if it was revealed to be the cause of Sudden Infant Death Syndrome. Featuring the most disgusting, atrocious characters ever put on screen, you will spend much of Tropic Thunder hoping that one or more of the people on screen chokes to death on their own idiocy. I get it, it’s supposed to be satire, but does anybody really care about the emotional problems of fake celebrities? This movie has the emotional depth of an issue of The National Enquirer, but instead of glancing at it for two seconds in the grocery store, you are being forced to watch every mind numbing minute of the excruciating two hours.

Never has a movie found the idea of black people more hilarious.

Ben Stiller has never been funny, his particular brand of humor making Rob Schneider look like Aristophanes, so it is astonishing that he is still allowed to breathe, let alone make movies. The various characters in his latest opus manage to be offensive black people, white people, Asian people, war veterans, and the mentally handicapped, proving that it takes almost no brain capacity to realize how terrible this movie is. Stiller whines and shouts, Jack Black screeches and runs around naked, and Mathew McConaughey fills me with the urge to carve all of the skin off his face to remove his smarmy grin. Essentially, it’s just them doing what they always do, which nobody wants to see anymore. Add that to a nonsensical plot and series of irritating supporting characters, and you get a movie that makes me think longingly of days when I’ve vomited all over myself. No amount of vomit could stink as badly as Tropic Thunder does.

Can’t Even See this Shit: The Clone Wars

They're on their way to disembowel George Lucas.

I see many movies in theaters, on video, and on television, hoping someday to find one that is tolerable to watch. So far the results have been, to put it lightly, lackluster. However, as much of an idealist as I am, there are some movies that I am unwilling to see, as I’m afraid I will be overcome with the urge to carve open my stomach and drop a rabid ferret among my internal organs as a way of distracting myself from what is on the screen. However, there are people who do see these movies who are willing to give them the thrashing they deserve.

So I have decided to start a new weekly program titled Can’t Even See this Shit, which features a new movie every week that looks so abominable that I can’t bring myself to go see it. To satiate those of you looking for a few words on how atrocious it is, I’ll provide some links to a few reviews that do the movie justice. I feel that it is fitting to inaugurate the C.E.S.S. Pool with the newest horseman of the apocalypse, Star Wars: The Clone Wars. Enjoy.

Review of the Week: It’s awful in a way that makes the Prequel Trilogy seem sort of good, that makes you almost yearn for the return of Jar Jar Binks (mysteriously absent here, replaced by other, equally annoying and offensive characters). By Devin Faraci of CHUD.com

1^st Runner Up: This one shucks off all pretense that “Star Wars” has a wonderfully universal appeal and instead unfolds with all the entertainment value of watching somebody else play a video game. By Hank Stuever of The Washington Post

2^nd Runner Up: You never knew how much you’d miss all that lousy, wooden human acting. By Owen Gleiberman of Entertainment Weekly

Bludgeon Me with a Pineapple Express

Throughout history there have been plenty of terrible action movies and plenty of terrible stoner comedies. These two genres share similarities in that they are both loaded with unrealistic characters, undeveloped stories, and idiotic dialogue. Leave it up then, to Seth Rogen, to combine these two awful genres to create The Pineapple Express. To describe this film, which Rogen co-wrote and stars in, as “super bad” would be a gross understatement; The Pinapple Express is why people get brain tumors. Featuring possibly the most infantile humor ever put on screen, which is unsurprising considering that Rogen has the intelligence of a deformed baby mole rat, The Pineapple Express consistently devolves into nonsensical conversations, irrelevant dance breaks, and the worst action scene in history. It would take a lot of drugs to make this movie bearable, although a shot of cyanide would be easier and less painful.

They're driving off a cliff so they don't have to watch this movie.

Consisting of puerile comedy that elicits zero laughs, moronic characters, and a plethora of offensive Asian stereotypes, there is absolutely nothing good about The Pineapple Express. None of the characters are remotely sympathetic, as they are all so intensely stupid that you want to carve their heads open with a chainsaw to see if there is anything inside. James Franco’s “acting” is more like twitching, squeaking, and screaming, but fortunately, his disgusting teeth are able to distract from his terrible performance. Judd Apatow has reached a new level of unoriginality in the film’s he produces, to go along with his ever expanding ubiquity. Obviously Seth Rogen got so stoned that he threw up onto a piece of paper, gave it to Apatow, and another shitty stoner comedy was born. Simply put, I would rather be sodomized by a pineapple than ever have to watch this movie again.