Jermaine Linton of the MTV Radio Network
The One is "incredible! The best
fight sequences I've seen since Crouching Tiger, Hidden Dragon."
PUNKS is "funny from beginning
to end!"
Will my friend
at MTV whose first name starts with R please go beat the crap
out of Mr. Linton?
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©2001 by
Randy Shandis Enterprises. All rights fucking reserved.
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This week:
Shallow Hal
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Filthy says:
"Fat chicks are in!" |
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I feel like a million dollars, like a freshly-fucked teen
boy who still has a boner and another girl waiting. This week,
those grassfuckers in Hollywood finally did what I've been waiting
for all along, their approval. Forget the approval of my mother,
society or any organized religion. All I ever wanted was those
oh-so-sincere arbiters of value in Hollywood to tell me that
I was okay.
It's nice to see a movie about fat people, even if it's just
Hollywood starlets in phony fat suits. But, that's all we can
ever expect from those grassfuckers. They're actually afraid
of real fat girls. They might eat all their edamame, or show
them that being skin and bones ain't the most important thing
in the world. Anyway, the folks in Hollywood have decided that
for the next few weeks it's okay to love a full-figured gal.
Not only is it okay, it's encouraged, at $8 a pop. Of course,
I've been loving my fat chick for a long time. I guess you could
say I was ahead of the curve because I've been married to my
Fashion Bug and Ladies Plus shopper for many years
now. This movie won't start a trend; the pricks won't re-examine
their own practices; they won't hire more fat women, and they'll
still be obsessed with skinny, shitty actresses like Charlize
Theron. In fact, I bet they made this movie to try to talk the
rest of the men into dating fat women so they can have all the
disgustingly thin ones for themselves. I wouldn't put it past
them.
And fuck 'em. Yeah, I have no problem looking at pretty women,
and I love to see them naked, but at the same time I don't go
around telling the world that all pretty women are hideous bitches
inside and all fat and ugly girls have hearts of gold. One trip
to the Arvada Tavern will confirm that there are tons of ugly
ladies who are also entirely unpleasant, selfish hogs. Likewise,
I'm sure there are beautiful ladies who are very sweet and intelligent,
but they don't hang around Arvada. The world is more complex
than those insulated little butterwhackers in L.A. will ever
want to know.
The overrated Jack Black is Hal, a man who focuses entirely
on the superficial in women more than even, say, your typical
Sigma Chi member at a Polly Ester's nightclub. After an encounter
with motivational-bullshit-guru Tony Robbins, Hal is hypnotized
to see only the inner beauty in people. So, fat chicks look like
supermodels and supermodels look like the Arvada Tavern Harelip.
He falls in love with Gwyneth Paltrow, who to him looks like
her skinny, translucent self, but to the rest of the world is
a 300-pound broad who breaks two restaurant chairs (this third
grade gag was so fucking funny the first time that they had to
do it twice). Hal's friend, the useless Jason Alexander, is equally
shallow and afraid that his friend will end up with an ugly girl.
So, he reverses the hypnotic spell, and Hal must decide whether
he loves the personality he fell in love with, or the physical
appearance. I'm sure you'll be shocked to learn that Hal chooses
the fat, nice girl. Of course, Hollywood never does in real life.
But for us unwashed masses, they go ahead and pretend they're
all about depth and warmth. How dare I even suggest that Hollywood
would choose superficial beauty over substance.
But, that's the not the problem with Shallow Hal. The
problem is that the fucking Farrelly Brothers are so intent on
making sure we understand the very important message that
they dip the damn movie is schmaltz. There are few jokes, and
those aren't very funny. Ha ha, the fat girl broke another chair.
Tee hee, Hal kisses a fat old lady. Ho ho, that fat girl sure
eats a lot of food. Oh my sides, that fat girl sure displaces
a lot of water. And every fat joke is ended with something meant
to make us feel sorry for the fat girl. What the fuck? First
the Farrelly Brothers think they need to teach us about inner
beauty, then they need to scold us about laughing about the jokes
they just told?
The plot is as sloppy and loose as a late-night beer shit.
Black's character is a good guy, apparently, because some periphery
characters tell us so. The story relies on coincidences such
as Paltrow being Black's boss's daughter. Paltrow runs into her
ex-boyfriend at just the right moment. And everyone always runs
into or find exactly who they need to at precisely the right
moment. Fuck, if I wrote this script, I would be pretty ashamed
of the hoary devices used to power it. Maybe they'd work in a
flat-out comedy, but this isn't a comedy: it's a lecture. It's
as static as a lecture, too. The movie might as well have been
directed by eight-year olds for all the scenes of people just
standing there talking.
Paltrow is supposed to be gorgeous, but she doesn't make me
want to jerk off. She looks like someone just poked her in the
eyes or she just got done crying. And she's a bony twig that
fell off some hardwood tree. She's probably hoping to get a God
damn Oscar for donning a fat suit and mucking up her good looks.
But if those pretentious fucks in the Academy give her one for
acting fat, my wife and all the chubbies at Hancock Fabric better
get some too, because they do the obese thing better.
Jack Black is supposed to be some comedy hot shit, but I have
yet to see him be funny in a movie. He was painfully over-the-top
in High Fidelity, and he doesn't do shit here. He is just
a short, heavy black hole into which other actors lines disappear.
Maybe it's the material, but he sure as hell isn't generating
any additional laughs with his performance. Alexander is just
whiny and annoying. He made his fortune and should not get any
more work. And what the fuck is Tony Robbins doing here? Leave
it to Hollywood to try to validate a fucking con artist that
sells motivational horseshit to the unsuspecting. Yet, this movie
tries to make him a genuine expert on matters of the heart. If
he weren't so fucking superficial, why does he always sell himself
by associating with celebrities? What nonsense.
It's a God damn shame that the Farrelly Brothers, employers
of Cameron Diaz, Rene Zellwegger and Gwyneth Paltrow, feel that
they should be the ones to teach us about inner beauty. Two
Fingers for the shallow Shallow Hal.
Want
to tell Filthy something?
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