If box-office numbers and imdb message boards are to be believed, no one likes a poor little PC pussy coming in to rain on the parade. Well, sorry to break up the high-fiving, ass-slapping, “get over it, dude, it’s only a comedy” raunch-party taking this country by “surprise” storm called The Hangover, but it can only be some sort of sick joke on Warner Bros’ part that it got released, and has become the hot-ticket item, during Gay Pride month. Only four weeks till Brüno, but we have enough questionably homophobic comedy here to tide us over.
So how does this “sleeper hit” (that this market-tested studio comedy that plays into all possible stereotypes is considered a “sleeper” is funnier than anything actually in the movie) choose to begin? First laff line: Overheard voicemail of one of the four bachelor-party-in-Vegas-bound protagonists says, “Leave me a message. But don’t text me, it’s gay.” Especially funny since I believe that is the recorded message of Doug [edit: Phil] (douche king Bradley Cooper), a schoolteacher to young children (later revealed to be a sweethearted family man who covers his precious child’s ears when the word “fuck” is uttered at a wedding by a screeching harridan). Second joke: Zach “who?” Gallifiniakknniakkis is getting measured for his groomsman tux. The elderly tailor’s hands get too high when checking the inseam, so he snaps at the tailor, calling him a “pervert.” Then to make it a sweet number three, and to irrevocably taint the rest of the film before it’s barely begun, three of the guys pull up to the house of the most emasculated of the friends—Stu (a very unfunny Ed “who?” Helms), who’s much less of a man than the rest because he has a shrew girlfriend and he ties dainty sweaters over his shoulders—and squawk from the street: “Paging Dr. Faggot! Paging Dr. Faggot!”
And we’re off and running. Of course the most I’ve read any critic mention this is Slant’s Nick Schager, who mentioned in passing the “predictable homophobic barbs marring the early mood . . .” He’s right, they are predictable, but for me, they weren’t something to just get over and move on from. They’re especially galling in light of the insane racism the rest of the film happily deals in (the only significant black character is a drug dealer, and of course there’s a cray-zee villainous Chinese posse—led by a limp-wristed, at one point naked, Ken Jeong). It’s all so unimaginative. Is there really no other way the writers could come up with jokes other than by intentional offensiveness? Of course, The Hangover isn’t particularly funny, trading in the kind of humor that, rather than relies on intricate gags or laughter based on recognition, simply aims to elicit a “oh, shit, that’s nuts!” response scene after scene. It’s more a circus than a comedy: Look! A baby knocked in the head by a car door! Look! A gross guy in a jockstrap! Look! A little naked Asian guy with a tiny penis! Look! Mike Tyson! It’s the definition of easy comedy. If it can get a laugh, then just do it, don’t worry about that small percentage of your audience who become the butt of your jokes.
But, please, hush my gay mouth. I just don’t get it, I guess. These movies—though they have the same types of homophobic jokes as any proudly tasteless comedy made in the past thirty years, from Bachelor Party to Moving Violations (!)—are now commenting on bad male behavior, right? Well, of course! These films in no way reaffirm how males should act…my stars, no: they’re simply reflecting a state of affairs. Men certainly don’t glean behavior on what men are supposed to be like from watching blockbuster hit films. Not at all. Just ask the chuckling dude sitting a few rows ahead of me who, immediately following the “text messaging is gay” joke, quietly stuffed his cell phone back in his pocket, where it stayed for the rest of the movie.
Hey, home skillet, it’s Morgan Freeman here (the one from The Bone Collector, or was it Training Day...or was it Antwone Fisher....?). Wait’ll ya get a load of this doodle that can’t be undid…the new Diablo Cody screenplay, “leaked,” courtesy of the kool kats at Somethiing Awful.
Ever read something on Reverse Shot that made your blood boil? Well, next time that happens, exorcise your rage: head here, type in our URL and select your weapon of choice…
To: Mayor’s Office of Film, Theatre & Broadcasting
Cc: City Council Committee on Culture, Libraries, and International Intergroup Relations
We, the undersigned, believe that the new rules currently under consideration for Film Permits (Chapter 9, Title 43 of the City Rules of New York) will have an irrevocable impact on independent filmmakers and photographers and their ability to engage in creative work in New York.
The proposed regulations would not only jeopardize the activities of artists, but of hobbyists and tourists, as well as commercial practitioners. Furthermore, we believe these new restrictions will have far reaching impact on the tourism industry and cultural economy of New York. With limitations placed on the kind of work that can be made, the commercial galleries, museums, and theaters that present the work, as well the film processing labs and rental companies that service the production of such work would lose considerable business.
The right to photograph in public space is established by the First Amendment, which states that, “Congress shall make no law abridging the freedom of speech, or of the press; or the right of the people peaceably to assemble.” These rights are not the City’s possession to take away, or to restrict to the point where such free expression is rendered impossible. The impact on public space of the types of activities you propose to regulate are so minimal that requiring permits is an undue burden towards exercising First Amendment rights. Furthermore, one cannot regulate an art form or activity by negating its very premise. The proposed rules, in refusing to recognize the spontaneity that is at the core of street-based filmmaking and photography, are untenable for that reason alone.
Because there was virtually no public notice about the proposals, many advocacy groups, photographers, and filmmakers did not know about the rules or the opportunity to file objections. We therefore call upon the city to dismiss these regulations altogether, and hold a new public hearing so that the communities that will be most impacted have an opportunitiy to meaningfully input into the shaping of new and constructive policies.
“The glue-sniffer’s Jean-Luc Godard returns: enfant no more but terrible still” —J. Hoberman, Village Voice, September 1999
Since 1999, Korine has grown even [physically] older it seems. We can’t say we’re exactly looking forward to the boy’s new film, Mister Lonely, which concerns “a Michael Jackson impersonator who lives alone in Paris and performs on the streets to make ends meet. At a performance in a retirement home, Michael falls for a beautiful Marilyn Monroe look-alike who suggests he move to a commune of impersonators in the Scottish Highlands.” But we are rather thrilled to welcome the one-time Kids scribe (who then unleashed Gummo on a frighteningly impressionable cinephilic youth culture) back into our circle of disregard.
So, for a Thursday treat, here’s a sampling of the erstwhile wunderkind’s ruminations direct from the press kit of his new film.
-“I wanted to create an atmosphere where watching a Buckwheat impersonator ride a large pig would seem like a normal and everyday thing.”
-“I always liked the trick David Blaine did with pulling off the head of a live chicken then reattaching it. I thought it would be great to see a priest in the jungle rip off the head of a live chicken in front of a bunch of children then throw it back on and watch it run away.”
-“I had this other story with the nuns in the jungle. How is that connected to the story of Michael and the impersonator commune? The two stories don’t really intersect in a formal way, it’s more in service of allegory and poetic punctuation.”
-“We actually searched a quarter of the globe to find two real nuns to do that skydive. But then, once I found them, they didn’t want to be in the movie saying they were busy saving souls. So I actually ended up casting actresses that skydive. All the nuns in the movie, except for the two brought in to skydive, were part of my mom’s circle of friends that live in the outskirts of the jungle, Panamanians or ex-pats who moved there.”
-“I specifically wrote Paris into the script because I lived in Paris for a while. During that time, I only left my apartment four times. My teeth started falling out. One day I had six croque-monsieurs (French style grilled cheese sandwiches). Shooting in Paris just made sense to me.”
-“I guess all my movies have certain things in common. I know there’s an emotional core, maybe my sense of humor and the esthetic connection to the film.”
-“I just wasn’t interested anymore in making movies and writing. I went to a place where I didn’t know anyone and basically became a ghost. Somehow I started to slowly build myself back up. I started to reattach myself and started to laugh again, started to understand things and feel again. One day I saw a small woman walking her invisible dog down the road. I asked her what she was doing. She told me it was time to make the movie. I took her word for it and now I am here.”
Syndicate this site