Did you ever read The Monkey's Paw? It's an old story about a guy that acquires a mystical relic (the paw, naturally), allowing its owner three wishes. Allegedly the paw is cursed, but the guy in the story, Mr.White, simply can't help himself. He's curious, and even with the best intentions, things don't end very well.
Now, I've never come across the severed hand of a...monkey, per se, but I routinely access something far more powerful, and far more nefarious. You have, too - I'd bet my life on it. See, I've been burned badly by this invisible monster, and on more than one occasion, too. But I can't resist the untold possibilities, just waiting to be tapped into.
It's called the Netflix search feature. And it's right behind you!
Look, last time it was worse, way worse [don't click here], but the hairy undead hand of Netlix's website has led me down an awful path, yet again. Yes, once again I made the desperate mistake of typing Daddario into the search bar, and once again I got screwed.
But not in the way I'd hoped.
Burying the Ex, shocking no one, is a terrible film. To its credit, it lets you know this (rather clearly) thirty-seconds in, but my irrational Alexandra Daddario-related lusting is boundless. While my wife tapped out ten minutes later (likely the longest ten minutes of our relationship), I told old friend Better Judgement to f--k off, and made it all the way to the craptastic end of the film.
The bitterly unfunny, insanely uninspired, Joe-Dante-made this?, titty-free end of the film.
In case you've recently suffered major cranial trauma, and actually care what this f--king flick is about, here goes: Max (the likable Anton Yelchin) has a whiny, tree-hugging girlfriend named Evelyn, who is, for lack of a better word, a total bitch. She's hot, sure, and loves to f--k (seriously?), but still manages to be just about the worst person on the planet. Well, person is a stretch, as she gets hit by a bus and, proving Movie God may actually exist, dies (and assuming heaven is only for decent actors/characters, plummets into a lake of fire) only to return as a, wait for it...Zombeaver [review].
If only we could be so lucky.
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| Aw, man that's awful. Tube socks? |
Anyway, real quick, it's at this point that Ms. Daddario shows up, and the blood (regrettably) flowing to my brain and allowing me to fully understand how bad this movie is, gets diverted to the more useful parts of my body. Daddario plays The Perfect Girl, who not only owns her own ice cream shop, but also enjoys every single thing that Max does. Like, everything. Oh, and she totally wants to get laid, as it's been awhile since she's gotten any. a'lbjn aj'lbQ4H2V
Sorry. I just punched my laptop.
In the face.
Yes, in a (really bad) movie about a woman returning from her grave, that last detail was the one that made me throw my hands up and yell, RIDICULOUS! Well, I couldn't exactly yell, I mean...wifey was asleep, but trust me, it was a pretty stern whisper.
Also in need of a stern something, are the Yays and Boos. How can you cheer a movie that is without question f--king terrible? But how can you jeer a movie that, well, features you-know-who? The simple answer: you can't.
Yaaaaay!
- I've never heard of Fruit Brute until now, but...yeah, it's my new favorite cereal. Well, after Honey Bunches of Oats. And Grape Nuts.
- So, Anton Yelchin, right? I like this dude. Even in a shitshow like this, he comes out unscathed. Bonus points are awarded because he looks like Ethan Hawke had a baby with Doogie Howser.
- I never thought I'd actually want to take a date to a cemetery, but their little romp at the Hollywood Cemetery looked pretty rad. Though, who am I kidding? I will never ever go to Hollywood again. Or, for that matter,...on a date. *tear*
- Evelyn vomits 900 gallons of embalming fluid directly into Max's face. Yes, this movie sucks so hard, the vomit scene makes the Yays.
- And finally, yes it's that time, put your sweaty hands together for Alexandra Daddario. This movie is a flaming bag of poo (Don't put it out with your boots, Ted!), no doubt, but she at least seems to give it an honest go. While it's not all that hard to be likable, considering the other female character made me wish I was the one run over by a bus, her Olivia at least made the film somewhat enjoyable.
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| I always wondered what became of Ross Geller. |
Boooooooo!
- We open with a fat guy getting something out of the fridge. That's a Boo. But even worse? He's naked. And the women he just had sex with? They're not.
- Seriously, this fat guy, you know, Bad Movie Fat Guy, he gets laid all the time. Dadarrio can't find a bone and this dog can't stop burying them.
- No shit, this movie has the worst made-for-TV vibe of any 'film' I've seen in some time. I've never wanted a commercial break so badly.
- Remember how I said I hated Evelyn and that she's the worst person alive? Well, guess what? She's a professional blogger. Jeez, lady. I've only got so much hate in me. Stop being so selfish.
- Oh, the soundtrack - I almost forgot! It f--king sucks.
- Zombie Evelyn? The first thing she wants when she returns from being dead is to blow Max. No, really. I know guys think with their dicks, but I'm pretty sure you're going to have to aim a little higher for brainsssss.
- The one 'sex' scene we get is spliced together with zombie-related violence. Kill everything, fine...but please. Please! Spare my boner.
- And finally, this horror movie month bullshit has got to end. Look, I realize this is entirely my fault. But unless I sneak something good in before Halloween, this October (outside of some Duplass-related awesomeness) is going to be my worst one ever. Feel free to go back and look, but trust me, that's saying something.
At the end of The Monkey's Paw, Mr. White has wished his son back from the dead. And when that wish seemingly comes true, and there's an ominous knocking at his door in the middle of the night? Instead of going downstairs and opening the door, White makes one final, desperate wish. It's not stated directly...but...
I'm pretty sure it was for Netflix to have better movies...
...featuring Alexandra Daddario, of course.