Bad movies I have loved
My daughter dared me to write about the movie we saw last night (Hi, sweetie) because she thinks my fans imagine me as hanging around the art-movie house (And you’d better believe Santa Cruz has one, or three) instead of guffawing helplessly over a piece of gore-soaked inanity like Tropic Thunder, and that I should hesitate to admit such lowbrow taste for fear of offending my readers’ delicate and intellectual sensibilities.
You have to understand, I don’t see a lot of movies at the moment, it being tough to get a replacement set of legs-and-ears in the evening, so I have to choose my films carefully. Nothing dark and emotional, don’t have room in my life for that. No cartoons, too much of a risk that they’ll be candy-floss. Something with a lot of explosions and either an interesting story line or humor, and both is a bonus. Hancock, Batman, and now Tropic Thunder: I’ll save my emotional intensity for the dvd, thanks.
(This is not to say I recommend any of those three movies to most normal human beings. This latest one particularly is gruesome and foul, and it you’re nauseated by a high and unending jet of red coming from a shot soldier’s helmet on a film set, you really don’t want to see what they do when the hero saves his buddies by picking up a grenade. And: not for kids. Not.)
Raunchy and offensive (not just against “retards”, which is the focus of current criticism, but against everyone) and clever and ridiculous and, if you’re in the right mood, and have a strong stomach, just the thing.
Afterwards, we ate sushi.