This is going to be my selesai post.
See, I have this idea for a movie, you guys, that's so good, I'm probably done working for free. Shit, I may even contact HBO and see if they want to make it into an eight-part mini-series. It's all pretty exciting.
The story takes place years ago, deep in the dirty, sweaty south. Two guys are investigating a murder that most people could give a f--k about. Allegedly behind the crime, is a real f--king psychopath. A truly demented piece of shit. Further complicating things, it seems, is the fact that each of the guys digging up the past are batting demons of their own. This makes the case secondary at best. Every turn leads to more and more sexual depravity, with someone getting tied up and screwed senseless. One half of this duo will be played by the extremely inquisitive and impossibly handsome Matthew McConaughey. The other half? I was thinking we should cast an actor who made his mark in television, but has since blossomed into a full-on movie star. He's a real badass motherf--ker, too.
Obviously, I'm talking about Zac Efron.
Bullshit aside, what the f--k is The Paperboy? No really. Tell me how this film even exists. Tell me how Matthew McConaughey is this film. No, f--k that. That almost makes sense. Tell me how in the world Nicole Kidman is in this? Did she read the script? Does she have an agent? Or is item 9,000 on her bucket list to piss on the face of Zac Efron? Because after spending 107 minutes drenched in the stank of Lee Daniel's 2012 flick, I need some answers. Or at the very least, a shower.
Also in need of some soap and extremely hot water, is every single aspect of this film. Set in a seedy Floridian town in the tumultuous 1960's, The Paperboy tells the story of two-would be journalists attempting to free a wrongly-convicted murdered just prior to his impending execution. Complicating matters is Charlotte (a bewildering Kidman), a trainwreck of a woman seemingly in love with Hillary (John Cusack, in the midst of an epic bender), the psycho f--k fingered for the murder. This crazy slut has never met Hillary, but due to her penchant for writing to locked-up scumbags, claims she has found her true love. Chasing this giant ball of shit as rolls straight to Hell is Jack (Efron, enjoying himself) a retired swimmer ('cause that matters) and younger brother of Ward (McConaughey), one of the reporters.
While the story, on paper (er, as a novel) anyway, may have been a real page-turner, seeing it brought to life on film is a different story altogether. Under Daniel's direction, the film successfully captures the grimy nuances of the schlock/exploitation flicks from the seventies, but that may be the only victory worth mentioning. Everything else feels like slumming, as the A-list cast seems content with merely out-sleazing one another. The script is the likely culprit, as many things said and done feel hollow and important in only their ability to shock. And between you and me, the only thing truly shocking is the fact that this f--ker was ever made in the first place.
Speaking of things that shouldn't exist but sadly do, here are the Yays and Boos. They've always wanted to see a dirty Kidman. Or did they mean dirty kid, man? Hopefully the former...yeesh.
See, I have this idea for a movie, you guys, that's so good, I'm probably done working for free. Shit, I may even contact HBO and see if they want to make it into an eight-part mini-series. It's all pretty exciting.
The story takes place years ago, deep in the dirty, sweaty south. Two guys are investigating a murder that most people could give a f--k about. Allegedly behind the crime, is a real f--king psychopath. A truly demented piece of shit. Further complicating things, it seems, is the fact that each of the guys digging up the past are batting demons of their own. This makes the case secondary at best. Every turn leads to more and more sexual depravity, with someone getting tied up and screwed senseless. One half of this duo will be played by the extremely inquisitive and impossibly handsome Matthew McConaughey. The other half? I was thinking we should cast an actor who made his mark in television, but has since blossomed into a full-on movie star. He's a real badass motherf--ker, too.
Obviously, I'm talking about Zac Efron.
Also in need of some soap and extremely hot water, is every single aspect of this film. Set in a seedy Floridian town in the tumultuous 1960's, The Paperboy tells the story of two-would be journalists attempting to free a wrongly-convicted murdered just prior to his impending execution. Complicating matters is Charlotte (a bewildering Kidman), a trainwreck of a woman seemingly in love with Hillary (John Cusack, in the midst of an epic bender), the psycho f--k fingered for the murder. This crazy slut has never met Hillary, but due to her penchant for writing to locked-up scumbags, claims she has found her true love. Chasing this giant ball of shit as rolls straight to Hell is Jack (Efron, enjoying himself) a retired swimmer ('cause that matters) and younger brother of Ward (McConaughey), one of the reporters.
While the story, on paper (er, as a novel) anyway, may have been a real page-turner, seeing it brought to life on film is a different story altogether. Under Daniel's direction, the film successfully captures the grimy nuances of the schlock/exploitation flicks from the seventies, but that may be the only victory worth mentioning. Everything else feels like slumming, as the A-list cast seems content with merely out-sleazing one another. The script is the likely culprit, as many things said and done feel hollow and important in only their ability to shock. And between you and me, the only thing truly shocking is the fact that this f--ker was ever made in the first place.
Speaking of things that shouldn't exist but sadly do, here are the Yays and Boos. They've always wanted to see a dirty Kidman. Or did they mean dirty kid, man? Hopefully the former...yeesh.
Yaaaaaaaaaay!
- It's also a Boo, but I have to give some credit to the lurid style of the film. Minus the famous faces, this flick could easily be a double feature with Foxy Brown [review] or something.
- Man, if I ever get locked up? Fingers crossed some crazy bitch parks outside of my prison and sends me some good vibrations.
- He's weird as Hell, and perhaps the ugliest man in a movie ever, but put your hands together for John Cusack. He really, um, banged this character out.
- Everyone is always sweaty. Hysterical.
- My thumbs. I mean, according to this movie, you need those. You know, for holding your wife's titties. Oh, and texting.
- Speaking of, I loves me some psychotic ramblings. Note to self: When visiting my psycho ass boyfriend in jail? DO NOT WEAR PANTS. And, DO NOT BRING CASSIUS CLAY ALONG.
- That Charlotte, well, she's a real giver. Even if she doesn't want to have sex with you, hang around long enough, and you're in. All right. Just this once.
- Yardly! This guy is one hardcore mofo. Wait, that should read hardcore brofo.
- If you like sleaze, this is probably going to be your favorite movie of all time. Maybe even your second favorite, too.
- And finally, as much as I enjoy a lovingly tender sex scene, I also really enjoy the exact opposite, as long as it's insanely ridiculous. Here, I'm pretty sure one of the principals was a stunt person, as one wrong move likely could have jettisoned someone through a concrete wall. I sincerely hope that was Cusack's last day of filming, because I doubt he could look anyone, and I mean anyone, in the eye after that one. I imagine he just zipped up his pants and stumbled into the nearby woods never to be heard from again.
Boooooooooooo!
- Damn that beginning was abrupt. Felt like I walked in five minutes late.
- Routinely I looked over to my wife to exchange the f--k is this? looks, only to see her totally asleep. Lucky.
- Whoa. That was one Helluva show at the prison. But let's be honest, Hillary. Jizzing in your pants is like having a food-fight. Sure it's fun for a minute, but that mess ain't gonna clean itself up.
- Speaking of Hillary, and this is actually important to the film, why would anyone, anyone, want to help this guy. The second he strolls into the visting room, I'd a been f--k this noise.
- Oh my goodness, the beach scene. First we get the all too subtle line, You want me to blow you, don't you? Which leads to Efron's Jack going for an angry swim. Clearly, we're at rock bottom, as it is. But then....oh shit....then, we get jellyfish attack. Then we get piss. Lots and lots of piss.
- Jeez, that hillybilly compound is frightening. Pretty sure that was a real gator being disembowled, huh? Damn. We were two missing kids (and a heap of drugs) away from that scary ass place in True Detective.
- I actually like Zac Efron. And I like underwear. I don't really like them together. Often.
- McConaughey's Ward. First, this dude doesn't really get enough screentime. Not only does the audience get screwed, but so does Ward. Um, in every way imaginable, too.
- Trying to help. You and your family go out of your way to make sure a crazy ass hillbilly doesn't get the chair, and guess how he repays you? Here's a hint: It's not good.
- Swimming. Why do they keep mentioning that Jack used to be a swimmer? Why? Well, when you find out, you're likely going to want to drown Michael Phelps, as the reason is so f--king stupid.
- And finally, Lee Daniels. He might be a good dude, but what's up with him putting his name in front of The Butler and not this? And if you know the answer to this, and think it's something you should tell me, the next bullet is for you. Please use a Sharpie.
- _____________________ for being an asshole.
You know, on second thought, I think I'm going to scrap that idea and just stick to blogging. I'd hate to go all the way through with something and have it turn out to be stupid and a waste of time.
Shit. It's too late, isn't it?
Shit. It's too late, isn't it?