I am opinionated as f**k.
There. It’s out in the open. If this was a support group, we’d all be sitting around in our little circle of chairs and I would stand up and say, “Hello. My name is Scott and I am opinionated as f**k”, and you all would say, “Hello, Scott.” I have come to accept this not so much as a personality flaw than as a nervous tick that kicks in when people say things I don’t agree with. It’s tourettes, basically. Uncontrollable explosions of verbiage that immediately make me feel like I just popped someone’s balloon with chainsaw. It has sometimes led me to make overly bold statements that usually end in the word “ever.” Such as “Something something is the best(or worst) band/movie/book/meal/job/person/song/comic book/religious tract ever.” Now that we have that out of the way, can we get on to my least favorite movies EVER?! Okay:
Fight Club (1999)
Longest movie about a little boy just needing a hug ever. I may be off here (I doubt it,though), but I every time I see some douchebag in Tapout gear or an Ed Hardy shirt, I know they love Fight Club. The plot of the movie is basically the same as any wrestling program (or gay porn): bits of dialog before some sweaty men began rubbing up on each other. It is uber-masculinity played to such an absurd level that I should be convinced that it’s a parody of “manly manly men” syndrome. Even if it is, the following it has gathered of meatheads who actually buy into Tyler Durden’s way of thinking makes it scary. It’s a technically well made movie, with some pretty good acting by the pair of Brad Pitt (as psycho prophet Tyler Durden) and Edward Norton(as shmuck), and it’s got some good bits to it. As impressively shot/directed/acted as this movie is, it is philosophically offensive. Once you wipe the stylized man goo off and see what’s underneath, it’s a disturbing celebration of barbarism and misogyny.
There is only one real female character in the movie and she just seems to be around for the boys to screw. Women (as a gender in general), however, are everywhere in this movie. It could even be said that women are the entire point of the movie. In her book Dames in the Driver’s Seat: Rereading Film Noir, Jans B. Wager says:
“Rich women arouse only ridicule and contempt and seem to stand in for the capitalist venture— ironically, a venture dominated by white males. The same displaced contempt infuses Tyler’s version of the problem with his generation: ‘‘We’re a generation of men raised by women. I’m wondering if another woman is really what we need.’’ Women, wholly and physically absent from the narrative except for Marla and Chloe, nevertheless carry the blame for society’s masculine malaise. Not only is each individual woman guilty, women in general constitute the problem against which the male characters of the film must do battle.”
Being a man raised by a woman, I can unequivocally say that it made me a better person than having my father around ever could have. Being a man raised by a Latina, I also see another disturbing facet to Fight Club: the movie has garnered a solid cult following over the years and I wonder if there would have been nearly as much critical and audience attention in favor of it if the main protagonist hadn’t been an upper-middle class white boy. It has also been commented that Fight Club could be viewed as an allegory on fascism, with the use of human fat to make soap being a reference to the holocaust. I had never really given that much thought before, but if that’s how you want to see it, go for it. Just don’t tell me that this movie is about men reclaiming their masculinity from the clutches of corporate culture and feminism.
The Boondock Saints (1999)
Christ, punch me in the balls if I have to hear one more person talk about how great this movie is. This was a marginally entertaining film about two brothers who go to war with the mob, but the non-stop “Oh my God, this is the best movie ever!” from co-workers and customers at the record store I worked at was enough to drive me straight from a rational critic of the movie to unflinching hatred for the movie. This flick has actually made me bigoted against the Irish. Okay, that’s a lie, but seriously,dude, it’s not that good. It’s all posturing and stylization without any depth. Although, the same can be said for The Usual Suspects, which is a movie that I actually like. So maybe I do hate the Irish. No, I don’t. Stop saying that.
It’s been maybe a good 10 years since I’ve seen this movie (were they good because I hadn’t seen this movie? Hmmmm…), and I can only recall bits and pieces. Like the ridiculous ending where the cop joins up with the killers to exact justice on criminals, the two avenging brothers now reunited with their hitman father who was previously sent to kill them but realized that they were his kids after they recited some family prayer or something. So, their dad had a change of heart and didn’t kill them despite being a cold blooded killer who abandoned them for a life of Irish Mob-itry. And the cop, who was a cross dresser for some reason (if I remember correctly) realizes at the very end of the movie that “whoops, these are the bad guys, what did I do by joining up with them?” Did I get that all right? Is that what it is? ‘Cause it’s pissing me off just thinking about it. Stupid movie.
Star Wars: Episode I: The Phantom Menace (1999)
I’ll keep this short, since I’ve already rambled on about Star Wars before and I more than likely will again. Shut up, I’m not a nerd, you’re a nerd.
Nerd.
This was after having watched George Lucas try to re-invent history (*nerdvoice* “Han shot first.”) and after he had done away with the “nyub nyub” song at the end of Jedi. It wasn’t Jar Jar, it wasn’t the midi-chlorians, it wasn’t the pod race scene, it wasn’t the racist depiction of alien species, it wasn’t “Yippee”, it wasn’t Lil’ Darthy accidentally blowing up the space station and saving the day (Okay, it was that a little), it was just how boring Lucas made the back story of the biggest badass in the galaxy. It was disappointing. Sure, it took 12 times viewing it before the adrenaline of “Oh my God, there’s a new Star Wars movie” wore off and I began to look at it for what it was. Which, honestly, was another thing that turned me against this movie – that feeling of getting duped. It’s not a horrible movie and Lucas shows off a skillful eye in parts. The costume design was pretty good, the Sith hiding in the shadows could have made for some great future drama if Darth Maul hadn’t been killed off, the Senate chamber, the Jedi Council, and (my favorite) the climatic lightsaber duel were all elements that I can still appreciate. But the rest is a mess.
So, now we got the tough ones out of the way. Favorite movie? Check. Least favorite movie(s)? Check. Clear sailing from here on out? Big Check. Right?
It just dawned on me that all three of these movies came out in 1999.
1999: The year cinema went fart.
