Ever since we left the hospital with our daughter, my wife and I have lived in a permanent state of unyielding chaos. But through it all, there has been a singular constant: movie night (oh, and our insatiable love for one another, I guess). Our movie night tradition, though steadily decreasing in frequency, has been without surprise for over a decade. Formulaic, almost. After settling in, it goes something like this:
Her: Do we have anything funny or romantic to watch?
Me: I was thinking something with subtitles. Or a thriller. Maybe even a subtitled thriller.
Her: (pretending to consider this) Nah. Are there any good romantic comedies out?
She says that last line as if yes is a possible answer. I start to half-heartedly flip through the collection or scroll through On-Demand or Netflix. Then it happens. The words that are about to be uttered will surely doom both of us.
Her: Oh, what's that one with Jennifer Aniston? Is that supposed to be any good?
Now we both know how this is going to end. She'll hang in for about twenty minutes, maybe more because of Aniston's presence. She will then slip in to a mild coma, leaving me to finish the movie I never wanted to see alone and irritated. She will wake up the exact moment I hastily click off the television.
Her: How was it? Was it any good?
In a word, no. The Swtich, starring Jennifer Aniston and Jason Bateman is not good. But even worse, it, like many a movie night at the Brown house, lacks anything remotely surprising. If you've seen the trailer, you know how this movie is going to end. Hell, if you can see that poster to the left, you know how this movie is going to end. You also know that this movie is incredibly stupid, insultingly bland, and not worth the 101 minutes required to finish it.
But if for some reason you missed the trailer, or somehow can't see that poster to the left, let me break it down for you (or the person reading this aloud to you, in Hell).
Jennifer Aniston, seriously flexing her acting muscles, plays an attractive and likable thirty-something New Yorker named Kassie, who may or may not have a job. Despite being hot as f--k and living in a city with four million dudes, she can't find a guy to bang her out and make a baby. Across the table from this fictional person, is Jason Bateman as Wally. Wally is a whiny, neurotic jerk-off, who has somehow managed to have the sexiest friend in the history of time. Surprising no one, they once had a short-lived fling back in the day (which they are bound to reference in the least-natural way possible), but now are happy just being friends.
Aniston's Kassie, in her infinite wisdom, opts against simply wringing out Joey Tribiani's sheets, and decides to place an ad in the paper or something looking for a sperm donor. I guess. I honestly watched the entire movie, but not only do I not remember how she finds I donor, I really don't give a f--k either way. Some shit happens, and the handsome (and happily married?) Roland (Patrick Wilson) shows up to be the donor. And in typical Quirky Movie! fashion, they have an insemination party. Because, you know, people do that.
Slightly more believable, though equally annoying and cliche, ol' BFF Wally is not a happy camper at this party. His solution? Get drunk off his ass and jerk-off all over this shindig. No, seriously. He does this. Instead of going home, doing some pushups, and f--king the sleeve of his favorite jacket, he stumbles into the second bathroom and finds the cup. Yes. Left out in a presumably room-temperature bathroom, is a cup full of Roland's seed. Wally, in his drunken stupor, does exactly what you'd think he does. He drinks it in one gulp and calls it a night. Just kidding. He dumps it out, and fills it up with his own brand.
Seven years later, Kassie moves back to New York. Oh, she apparently moved away moments after the insemination (seriously). Anyway, she has this kid, and let me be frank...he's kind of an a-hole. And while a lady on the boss instantly nails Wally as the real father, no one else in the entire film can figure it out. From here, everything you expect to happen, does.
You know that moment in (bad) movies where someone has something really important to say, but keeps hesitating, or worse, keeps being repeatedly interrupted? The Switch loves this moment. If Bateman could stop diddling his man-gina and just fess the f--k up, we might've been left with thirty minute flick. Instead we're jerked around for triple that, without even a nipslip or a cooter shot to keep us interested.
You know what? Enough of this bullshit. I have something I extremely important to tell you. In fact, you might want to sit down. This is hard to say, but I - oh, shit. The Yays and Boos just showed up.
Her: Do we have anything funny or romantic to watch?
Me: I was thinking something with subtitles. Or a thriller. Maybe even a subtitled thriller.
Her: (pretending to consider this) Nah. Are there any good romantic comedies out?
She says that last line as if yes is a possible answer. I start to half-heartedly flip through the collection or scroll through On-Demand or Netflix. Then it happens. The words that are about to be uttered will surely doom both of us.
Her: Oh, what's that one with Jennifer Aniston? Is that supposed to be any good?
Now we both know how this is going to end. She'll hang in for about twenty minutes, maybe more because of Aniston's presence. She will then slip in to a mild coma, leaving me to finish the movie I never wanted to see alone and irritated. She will wake up the exact moment I hastily click off the television.
Her: How was it? Was it any good?
But if for some reason you missed the trailer, or somehow can't see that poster to the left, let me break it down for you (or the person reading this aloud to you, in Hell).
Jennifer Aniston, seriously flexing her acting muscles, plays an attractive and likable thirty-something New Yorker named Kassie, who may or may not have a job. Despite being hot as f--k and living in a city with four million dudes, she can't find a guy to bang her out and make a baby. Across the table from this fictional person, is Jason Bateman as Wally. Wally is a whiny, neurotic jerk-off, who has somehow managed to have the sexiest friend in the history of time. Surprising no one, they once had a short-lived fling back in the day (which they are bound to reference in the least-natural way possible), but now are happy just being friends.
Aniston's Kassie, in her infinite wisdom, opts against simply wringing out Joey Tribiani's sheets, and decides to place an ad in the paper or something looking for a sperm donor. I guess. I honestly watched the entire movie, but not only do I not remember how she finds I donor, I really don't give a f--k either way. Some shit happens, and the handsome (and happily married?) Roland (Patrick Wilson) shows up to be the donor. And in typical Quirky Movie! fashion, they have an insemination party. Because, you know, people do that.
Slightly more believable, though equally annoying and cliche, ol' BFF Wally is not a happy camper at this party. His solution? Get drunk off his ass and jerk-off all over this shindig. No, seriously. He does this. Instead of going home, doing some pushups, and f--king the sleeve of his favorite jacket, he stumbles into the second bathroom and finds the cup. Yes. Left out in a presumably room-temperature bathroom, is a cup full of Roland's seed. Wally, in his drunken stupor, does exactly what you'd think he does. He drinks it in one gulp and calls it a night. Just kidding. He dumps it out, and fills it up with his own brand.
Seven years later, Kassie moves back to New York. Oh, she apparently moved away moments after the insemination (seriously). Anyway, she has this kid, and let me be frank...he's kind of an a-hole. And while a lady on the boss instantly nails Wally as the real father, no one else in the entire film can figure it out. From here, everything you expect to happen, does.
You know that moment in (bad) movies where someone has something really important to say, but keeps hesitating, or worse, keeps being repeatedly interrupted? The Switch loves this moment. If Bateman could stop diddling his man-gina and just fess the f--k up, we might've been left with thirty minute flick. Instead we're jerked around for triple that, without even a nipslip or a cooter shot to keep us interested.
You know what? Enough of this bullshit. I have something I extremely important to tell you. In fact, you might want to sit down. This is hard to say, but I - oh, shit. The Yays and Boos just showed up.
Yaaaay!
- Desperate times call for desperate measures. Wally, needing to produce, uses a picture of Diane Sawyer as jerking fodder.
- Funyun, the tasty chip I'll never eat again, is used to replace the word f--k. For whatever reason, I can respect that.
- Jeff Goldblum. Even if he's playing the rich, womanizing, dickhead boss Guy for like the 27th time, I'm still in. He's just too damn charming.
- And finally, Jennifer Aniston. As little as the roles help her career, she continues to get more and more attractive in them. It's incredible, really.
 |
| I see Mallory. Now if only Mickey would show up. Then it'd be a party. |
Booooooooooo!
- That weird bum guy from the beginning of the movie? I guess he was supposed to be funny, but I hated him. Kind of set the tone, I guess.
- Stupid, quirky habits are annoying enough. But when they are used to obviously show the audience THE KID DOES THAT TOO it makes me want to destroy something beautiful.
- Sperm confetti. The only thing more offensive and stupid than an invitation filled with tiny paper sperm cells, would likely be an invitation filled with actual sperm cells.
- Have you ever noticed the way Aniston hugs people? Her arms are like seventeen feet long, and she sort of wraps them up in this odd fashion. It's almost as annoying as her constant holding of her own face.
- Sebastian, aka The (bastard) Kid. I'm sure this little kid is a good person in real life, but in this movie he's completely f--king awful. All his quirks and charms are so forced and outrageous, it's ridiculous and infuriating. For example, he actually says this: Mom! I think I want to herd cattle.
- Don't even get me started on the kid's collection of picture frames. I may actually combust spontaneously.
- Speaking of...Aniston and the kid have zero chemistry. Seriously. I have socks I love more than she digs her son.
- Sorry to ruin it for you, but the big touchy-feely this is my son bonding moment is when Wally rids young Sebastian of head lice. I shit you not.
- You know it, you hate it: the we're sadly going about our lives montage. So lame...
- I know I'm all kinds of down on Rachel Green, but serious time, though brief, ain't really her thing.
- And finally, as I touched on nine-thousand words ago, the litany of similarities between the father and son is simply ridiculous. Moaning while eating, standing like douches, obsessed with the dumbest of shit, the list goes on and on. Yes, we are like our fathers....but this shit is absurd. Well, I hope so anyway. If my son starts a crappy blog....
The Switch, oddly enough, didn't change anything. It was yet another crappy rom-com that my wife snored through, loudly, and I suffered through, quietly. Fortunately, there was a pretty sweet surprise that lie ahead for both of us that night, as we snuggled into bed together. Something that hasn't happened in weeks, if not months. Something that neither of us saw coming.
Our daughter slept through the night.
That's what you were thinking, right?
That's what you were thinking, right?