Lemme start by giving a great big middle finger thank you to Marco for finally finding the time in his scary busy blogging schedule for anotha one of my movie reviews. When he got around to calling me the other day, the cocksucker said it had just slipped his mind, can you imagine that? Slipped his mind . . . fucking guy!
Anyway, so he calls ta ask if I wanted to do a movie review and I was all excited because he’s been on a Jason Statham kick lately so I figured cool, I can watch that crazy fucking Brit kick the shit out of da bad guys for a couple hours. Oh wait, sorry. . I forgot I’m living in an age when people are offended by that kinda language. Shit, who am I kidding . . he’s a crazy fucking Brit!
Spoiler Alert: A certain asshole blogger who shall remain nameless told me I should include dis in my movie reviews, so as not to spoil tha movie for anyone who ain’t seen it. Whateva . . .
Well there ain’t no Jason Statham in the movie I watched. There ain’t a crazy Brit, or a crazy accent or even a crazy story line to get excited about in this predictable as fuck movie that felt as if da writers were kidnapped from that Lifetime channel. Yanno the one, where all the movies feel like commercials that Nicholas Sparks wrote? Fuck!
Basically, the story is about this chick who’s waiting tables until some guy decides to rob the joint. I had a big problem with this because I mean . . who da fuck robs a restaurant? Shake down the owner? Sure. Torch the place when he stops paying up? Absolutely. But like, rob da place? For what? Eighty bucks and a bacon cheeseburger ta go? Amateur . . .
After this, the movie gets dumber than a bag of dicks. This chick is friends with some old guy who ends up leaving her everything in his will and get this . . da guy ain’t even banging her! And it’s a good thing he croaks, because ha boyfriend is majoring in “How to shit your pants in a job interview”. Turns out, he’s much better at spending the old guy’s money than he is at making his own. This chick has worse luck than my Aunt Rosemary, who once married a fashion designer because she wanted to get pregnant and well . . you probably know where I’m going with this . . .
So the chick and her degenerate boyfriend move right into the old guy’s house. It’s a big old house outside Chicago that hasn’t been updated since Richard Daley’s father was Mayor. I did a quick inventory and I figured I coulda fenced the contents of this particular abode for a cool million . . if I was in a hurry. So yanno . . these two stupid ass kids are loaded!
None of it matters because they can’t stay outta trouble. And get this . . they ain’t starting any of the trouble! After the old guy dies, they find a shitload of cash in the attic and they freak out . . as if that doesn’t happen all the time! Then they find diamonds in the old guy’s safe deposit box and they freak out . . as if THAT doesn’t happen all the time! Then they find a dead body in the garage . . as if THAT . . aww shit, you get da picture!
Thing of it is, they coulda been free and clear if they knew how ta read a hairstyle. Lemme explain. There’s this imbecile who shows up at their door early on pretending ta be a real estate salesman named Hayden even though his hair is obviously East New York hoodlum. It’s obvious this guy wants what they lucked into but instead of digging a ditch in the desert and getting rid of the pain in the ass, they become the suspects! I guess what they say is true, about youth being wasted on the dumbasses.
Anyway, in the end the imbecile dies, and so does the asshole boyfriend. Oh, and the lawyer for the old guy . . she dies too, after they find out she was part of the plot to kill him off . . . as if THAT doesn’t happen all the time! So everybody dies except for the chick. In da last scene, the detective comes by to say hello and the chick is very pregnant. She’s gonna raise the kid in the big house . . the one not named prison. So they spend a few minutes wondering where da fuck the diamonds went and as the scene fades to black, the water sprinkler shows us they’re buried in the garden.
Lemme tell you, that shit doesn’t happen all the time.