Monday, June 20, 2011

first things first

A year ago yesterday, I married my wife. It's been a fantastic year. Bottom line: Thank you so much for not divorcing me.

With that said, we had kind of a tame anniversary weekend, as the in-laws were in town for business. Don't worry, we'll be getting rowdy one of the upcoming weekends.

I think the main thing I want to talk about today is the movie we viewed Saturday Night: True Grit.

Note that I haven't seen the original, and the following is under the assumption that the original was better.

Alternate, more appropriate titles for True Grit:

True Shit
Disney Presents: True Grit
Truly Not Gritty
Pixar's True Grit
True Grit, as performed by the cast from The Vagina Monologues

Stay with me here. If you've seen it, you should be easily able to smell what I'm cooking here; there was absolutely nothing gritty about this movie. In fact, even if you stripped away the candy-coated sheen from the film, you'd still have a watered down shitfest.

I like westerns, yes Dad, you were right - I did grow to appreciate the western movies you always enjoyed. I was wrong; you were right. You were also right that I would grow out of that "crybaby liberal somebody hold my hand cause I'm a pussy" phase I went through in college. *My words, not yours.

OK, so the premise of the movie is a 14 year old girl seeking justice for the man that gunned down her pappy. Fair enough, sounds like a strong plot. Well, when you take 45 minutes to get into any action, and the only attention grabber is the quick-witted girl outsmarting a couple old cowboys, that's not a good sign.

We rented a movie called TRUE GRIT, not TRUE DRAMA. That some Sean Penn bullshit right there, and he wasn't even in the movie.

So the girl was good, though by the third scene she was in, her wit was wearing a little thin, cause - and I'm not sure if you know this cause you probably weren't there - but in the wild west, the fastest way to silence a smart mouth was either with a good backhand or a .357 mag to the dome.

Neither happened. How unGRITTY.

Jeff Bridges nailed his role, but I wonder if that was less a character role, and more him playing him in real life. Only with guns, horses, and Josh Brolin & Matt Damon.

Oh Matt Damon, I almost forgot about you! Here's the thing, in a western movie, the men should be men. And not sure what happened here, but there isn't a whole lot that's manly about Matt Damon. Yeah, the Bourne movies were pretty bad ass, but that's choreographed martial arts shit, not manly cowboy shit. Matt Damon, you wrote and starred in Good Will Hunting with Ben Affleck, get the fuck OUTTA HERE.

Love the scene where the little girl uses her daddy's revolver to shoot the villain, Josh Brolin. Very cool, this could have been awesome. She blasts him in the arm or something. After realizing the lack of sweet fatality, she shoots him again. Only the gun jams.

That's why YOU USE A FUCKING REVOLVER BECAUSE THEY DON'T JAM.

Usually gratuitous violence is a good thing, right? But at the end of the movie Jeff Bridges is stabbing the poor, innocent horse with a knife to make it run faster. Then when it collapses, to add insult to injury, he fucking shoots it. I didn't watch this movie to see assholes torture and murder a horse, I watched it to see cowboys get DESTROYED.

This isn't all negative as there were two pretty sweet moments, and they happened within seconds of each other, so they weren't even spaced out far enough to have any actual redeeming value: dude gets multiple fingers cut off with one single knife-slashing, then he gets stabbed in the chest. Very cool. Then the dude doing the cutting gets a revolver load to THE FACE. And they showed the bullet wound too. But I think in reality, his head would have EXPLODED from being show at such POINT BLANK RANGE.

That was about the extent of the violence, as the the entire movie seemed to have the Disney, kid-friendly sheen over it. I don't remember much cursing, or anything too offensive, no grit. Seriously, if it was cartoonified, this could have been a Pixar movie.

Whatever, I drank whiskey straight and wore my holstered .357 magnum the entire time while watching it*. Cause that's what truly gritty men do: When things get too Disney, they sit down, shut up, drink whiskey, and wait for an excuse to shoot their gun.



*I also had my double barrel 12 gauge laying across my lap, loaded, just in case.

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