I get it. I do. It may sound strange to you...but I'm cool with it. It's just how some of us deal with things, I suppose.
See, in a way, I also write letters to the universe. But I write mine because I have kids, you know? This dumpster fire you're currently standing in is a gift for them when I'm gone (Dad, you shouldn't have. Like, for real. Stop.), whatever the circumstances may ultimately be.
Yet, even though no one owes me a response, I'm not gonna lie: I certainly welcome it.
Collateral Beauty is the 2016 bullet point on Will Smith's resume of annual holiday-season/feel-bad movies. Released this past Christmas, the once freshest of princes plays Howard, a father still mourning the loss of his young daughter to cancer. Howard hasn't moved on, and we find him quietly drifting through his life at the film's outset.
Personal tragedies are typically just that - personal - until three top execs at Howard's company have finally had enough of his downward spiral. Turns out, it isn't exactly top form that their former fearless leader spends days in his picturesque office setting up and knocking down dominoes. Oh, it's totally rad, sure, but cost-effective it ain't, and they decide to walk the dangerous path of proving he's mentally unfit to steer the ship.
Knowing their boss has actually written letters to the universal concepts of Life, Death and Time (the former benchmarks of their advertising firm), these three kooks cook up a wickedly deceptive, three-step plan: 1) hire three actors to play Life, Death and Time 2) film their interactions with Howard on the streets of NYC and 3) digitally remove the actors making Howard look like a f--king psycho.
Wait, what?
Yeah, I kinda rolled my eyes too, but with a cast this fantastic and ninety-four minutes to spare, I basically went all in on Collateral Beauty. Sure, it may be sappier than a Lifetime movie about disabled puppies at Christmas, but I found it thought-provoking enough to be enjoyable, even if I was left utterly bewildered at the end.
Oh, and that end? Well, I might be the only person on the planet who didn't see it coming, but it wouldn't be the first time that something impossibly obvious flew directly over my thick head. Still, you can go ahead and f--k off with those Really?-shaped eyebrows jutting off your lovely face, okay? Some of us aren't that smart, and instead have to settle for being impossibly handsome. Or liars.
Look, I might be a moron passively staring at the flickering light box mounted to my living room wall, but sometimes my heart gets in the way of my head. Shitty movie or not, get me thinking about losing either one of my little kids to a mystery disease that no one saw coming and whether you deserve it or not, you've got my attention.
Speaking of bittersweet endings, here are the Yays and Boos. Ultimately, we're not that mad that Smith keeps pursuing that little statue every December. Honestly. But we're stoked as Hell that in 2017 he's chasing something very different this time around [holy shit!].
Writing this blog for (the adult versions of) my kids (and you, dear reader), isn't the easiest thing to do. You're all essentially these unseen forces I feel in my heart, but never see with my eyes or touch with my hands. So, if you don't necessarily exist...does it make sense to keep writing to you? I don't want to end up the crazy guy that people film in the subway.
Shit. *deep breath*
It seems like I'm a bit of a crossroads here, doesn't it?
Screw it. I'm gonna keep writing. I mean...
...I don't really have the counter space for all those f--king dominoes.
See, in a way, I also write letters to the universe. But I write mine because I have kids, you know? This dumpster fire you're currently standing in is a gift for them when I'm gone (Dad, you shouldn't have. Like, for real. Stop.), whatever the circumstances may ultimately be.
Yet, even though no one owes me a response, I'm not gonna lie: I certainly welcome it.
Personal tragedies are typically just that - personal - until three top execs at Howard's company have finally had enough of his downward spiral. Turns out, it isn't exactly top form that their former fearless leader spends days in his picturesque office setting up and knocking down dominoes. Oh, it's totally rad, sure, but cost-effective it ain't, and they decide to walk the dangerous path of proving he's mentally unfit to steer the ship.
Knowing their boss has actually written letters to the universal concepts of Life, Death and Time (the former benchmarks of their advertising firm), these three kooks cook up a wickedly deceptive, three-step plan: 1) hire three actors to play Life, Death and Time 2) film their interactions with Howard on the streets of NYC and 3) digitally remove the actors making Howard look like a f--king psycho.
Wait, what?
Yeah, I kinda rolled my eyes too, but with a cast this fantastic and ninety-four minutes to spare, I basically went all in on Collateral Beauty. Sure, it may be sappier than a Lifetime movie about disabled puppies at Christmas, but I found it thought-provoking enough to be enjoyable, even if I was left utterly bewildered at the end.
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| Oh, shit! They made a Hancock sequel? |
Look, I might be a moron passively staring at the flickering light box mounted to my living room wall, but sometimes my heart gets in the way of my head. Shitty movie or not, get me thinking about losing either one of my little kids to a mystery disease that no one saw coming and whether you deserve it or not, you've got my attention.
Speaking of bittersweet endings, here are the Yays and Boos. Ultimately, we're not that mad that Smith keeps pursuing that little statue every December. Honestly. But we're stoked as Hell that in 2017 he's chasing something very different this time around [holy shit!].
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| In the 90s, I think I owned all of these outfits. |
Yaaaaaaaaaaay!
- Maybe I'm not watching the right movies (um, obviously), but holy shit is it good to see Edward Norton in something, even if he appears moderately half the time.
- You know how real badasses walk away from explosions without looking back? Well, Howard's twice the bamf those dudes are, as he walks away from exploding, er, tumbling dominoes without admiring his handiwork. That shit's hardcore!
- Wait, you can get a key that opens every mailbox in the world? Really?
- No lie, this film is f--king astounding to look at.
- Helen Mirren is a bit annoying here as Death/Old Hippie Lady, but I still very much enjoy her. In everything.
- Which also sums up my feelings about Keiraa Knightley, who here, looks fuller then I remember (this is not a bad thing in the least). Love the little time I got to spend with...well, Love...even if her role unnecessarily complicates everything I thought I knew about these damn 'people'.
- So, that grief counselor lady is kinda hot, right? Kinda helps ease the pain, if you know what I'm saying...
- Dude. Howard basically f--ks up Time, and I couldn't have been happier. Time's a real a-hole, you know?
- But that little battle can't really hold a candle to the brouhaha that Howard gets into with Death on the subway. Oh, she's a nice enough lady, but when you're talking about a six-year old girl, Death can go straight to Hell. I don't care who's watching.
- Um, did Claire (Kate Winslet, trying to be relevant in this film) eye-hump brother Time? I don't know about you, but it looked like those two were about to get it on, uh, for the greater good.
- And finally, even if this movie is silly, and even if my wife instantly fell asleep and watched it on her own the following day, let me put my hands together for a very spirited post-movie discussion between Mr. and Mrs. . Yes, she had that adorable look on her face knowing that I didn't see the twist coming (she did, of course), but I fought a good fight for awhile. I think I had found some shit that she hadn't considered, and she almost, almost conceded to one of my theories about the end. My wife eventually (almost) agreeing with me on something? Talk about movie magic.
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| I am Jack's wicked daughter. |
Booooooooo!
- According to movies, the only memory I can have of my daughter involves me twirling her around in a sunny park. I have failed you, Violet.
- I'm not super familiar with the grieving process, but apparently sitting alone in the dark all night and ignoring Kate Winslet bringing you tasty take-out is part of it. Sounds terrible.
- As does riding a bike down a one-way street in New York City. At night. Uh...no?
- Okay, you know how every movie has the coolest office ever? Welp, the one that Howard works at may win the f--king gold medal of bullshit workspaces. Seriously, all they need is a fire pole and Topless Tuesdays and this place is where I hope to wake up in after I die.
- Hey, look! A scene where a bunch of parents are talking about their dead children! Great. If the disc ejected itself from my PS4 and bisected my wiener...it would only be marginally worse.
- Uh, is did this film take place during the warmest, brightest NYC Christmas ever? No? Oh, then it's just a glimpse of what winter will look like after four years of the Trump administration.
- Kate Winslet's character is having problems getting pregnant. For some reason, this matters (trust me, this is handled rather poorly). A Pop-up Video thought bubble indicating this would have been more graceful.
- Look, I'm not exactly good with, well, pretty much anything, but can you really digitally remove someone from any video?
- And finally, that f--king ending. Not only the thing with that person, which I begrudgingly accept (but somehow didn't see coming), but more pressing is that other epic dick-punch they hit us with. I don't think there's any logic behind that insanity, but my wife totally accepted it as reasonable. But again, exhibit A to her overwhelming lack of credibility? She married me.
Writing this blog for (the adult versions of) my kids (and you, dear reader), isn't the easiest thing to do. You're all essentially these unseen forces I feel in my heart, but never see with my eyes or touch with my hands. So, if you don't necessarily exist...does it make sense to keep writing to you? I don't want to end up the crazy guy that people film in the subway.
Shit. *deep breath*
It seems like I'm a bit of a crossroads here, doesn't it?
Screw it. I'm gonna keep writing. I mean...
...I don't really have the counter space for all those f--king dominoes.