When Hollywood
grassfuckers make movies trying to say something nasty about Hollywood,
they end up chickening out, like a horny guy telling a hot Born-again
Christian chick that he wants to go down on her. He wants to get
into the nitty-gritty, dirty details of how he'd like to mow her
crotch lawn, or taste her crunch berries. But the fear of rejection
makes it come out watered down and tame; something about doing unto
others and Jesus and raising her little Lazarus. Simone is
that sort of failure, afraid to be nasty.
Actually, some
dimwitted trend-follower in studio marketing titled the movie S1m0ne,
but fuck that shit. This numbers for letters crap is as tired and
sore as a broke dick dog in a kennel full of poodle bitches. I seriously
doubt that there is one person in America who says "Oh, this
movie has a one for the 'I', let's go see it."
Simone
is a pretty good example of an idea that got sold without a story
to back it up. The idea is that a failed movie director (Al Pacino)
who specializes in pretentious, lugubrious Ingmar Bergman ripoffs
inherits a computer program that can place a digital woman into
the lead of his movies. No more divas, no more trying to get actors
to do exactly what he wants. Now he has the perfect actress, and
as it turns out, she's incredibly popular. Director/writer Andrew
Niccol doesn't really know how to make that convincing, or what
to do after he sets up the premise. Well, maybe he did and the studio
took their big rusty scissors and sliced his balls off. The result's
as neutered and listless as the fat pervert at my cousin Larry's
assisted living home who get a shock every time he touches his dick.
At the start
of the movie, Pacino has been fired from his studio by his ex-wife
(Catherine Keener) who now runs it. He is approached by a software
developer who soon dies and leaves him a hard drive with Simone
on it. She's a digital creation that can be plugged into films,
and who can mimic and amalgamate the best of Hollywood's greatest
actors, from Audrey Hepburn to Todd Bridges. Without telling anyone
she doesn't really exist, and with the help of the world's stupidest
and naïve media, he launches his latest film with her replacing
the primadonna that ruined it.
The movie is
the same old crap he has always made, but in some way that I didn't
understand, the world falls in love with Simone. Pacino's success
becomes tied to Simone. He is still a hack director, but as long
as he has Simone he gets to keep making bad movies. Pacino suffers
from a sense of inadequacy, he can't tell the world that Simone
is a fraud without being considered a fraud himself. Yet, as long
as she continues, he will never be considered anything more than
the only man with access to her. He first tries to ruin her career
by letting her "direct" I am Pig, a movie in which
she wallows around with pigs in a trough. This is easily the movie's
funniest part. Then he tries to overexpose her by turning her into
a pop star, line of cologne and a guest on talk shows where she
espouses her belief in arming children and smoking more.
Niccol fills
out the story with a lot of "who cares" bullshit like
a will-they-or-won't-they reuniting of Pacino and Keener, a pair
of bumbling journalists who add nothing to the story, and a climax
that's botched as badly as a Tijuana nose job and as obvious and
execrable as the result of feeding a dog fifty greasy tacos. Pacino
attempts to kill off Simone and is arrested for murder. Will he
be saved by the timely return of Simone? Will he get back together
with Keener? Will his movie career continue? The answer is... don't
read any farther if you honestly are too stupid to know the answer.
The answer is... yes!
Simone, the
creation, is supposed to fool people with how real she looks. But
Simone the movie is faker from beginning to end than Candy
Bottom's 44DDDs. The horseshit gets piled on pretty heavy, with
Niccol expecting us to buy increasingly preposterous plot points
and conceits in order to make a point that gets lost 20 minutes
in. Pacino, a director with no computer knowledge is able to paste
a woman into virtually every scene in a movie all by himself. He
is able to get entire casts to act around someone who isn't even
there and that never even ask why she isn't. Masses of media swarm
to get a glimpse of Simone, yet nobody ever bothers to notice she
never enters or leaves the studio. And Pacino's computer set up
must have been created by the same people who made the Batcave:
very talented crafstman who never ever mention that, "Oh, yeah,
I remember building that system. I guess I just never bothered to
ask why I built it right smack dab in the center of a huge empty
studio, the same one the whole world has its eyes on because it's
where Simone works."
The movies Pacino's
character makes are shit, and we as an audience are supposed to
amusingly acknowledge them as shit, but also believe that Simone
is so fucking great that we'd fall all over ourselves to see them.
That's the most improbable thing. In the movie, Simone is more popular
than Jesus, bigger than Elvis and more bankable than Traci Lords.
She has no problem with nudity (not that we see any. Shit, this
movie was so boring I would have been happy with even pixelated
titties). From where I sat (in a 99% empty theater), she's just
a pretty girl with no special talents. Why should I buy that the
world's in love with her when I'm not? The movie just keeps telling
us about Simone-mania, but it never explains it.
I'm sure at
one point Niccol had something he wanted to say about Hollywood.
It's a terrible place, I guess, where you have just as a good a
chance of succeeding by being fake as being real. The best proof
sure as hell ain't the thesis of his movie, it's the movie itself.
He get millions of bucks, Al Pacino and Catherine Keener and he
made the point that Hollywood works on one-sentence story descriptions,
not on actual stories. I guess whole stories just take too much
damn time to read.
It's a God damn
shame, and I would have rather seen I am Pig. Two Fingers
for Simone.
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