29 August 2006

A Warning, In Which I Confuse the Crap Out of Myself

Whatever you do, no matter how much you love Julianne Moore, no matter how much your dad might have tried to ruin your life forever by getting you hooked on The X-Files when you were twelve, do not see Trust the Man. I don't care how hip you think Maggie Gyllenhaal is, or that you can see past Billy Crudup's disgusting facial hair. Do not see this movie. (And not only because you're wrong, and the facial hair actually works some evil alchemy on Billy Crudup's transcendentally beautiful face and makes him completely unatractive and gross.) This movie is really, really bad.

I don't see many movies. When I do go, I usually know what I'm getting myself into. It's either going to be damn good (Little Miss Sunshine) or delightfully awful (Constantine, The Chronicles of Riddick, Step Up). (Okay, Constantine wasn't entirely crap. The last half hour kicks ass.) So it's rare that I go into a movie expecting something good and end up with a headache because I've been furrowing my brow in such pain.

So Billy Crudup was doing some weird bad things, and I think I might not really love Maggie Gyllenhaal outside of Secretary, but Julianne Moore and David Duchovny were fantastic. (Everyone knows Julianne Moore is always great, and I like to think my love for David Duchovny is objective and separate from any years I may or may not have spent hooked on The X-Files. And by the way, if you do a google image search for "David Duchovny," you will come up with some weird-ass shit.) But how painful to have these two really wonderful performances tied up in this bad bad movie, with its bad writing and bad story, and some of the worst fake snow I've ever seen. Really, as promising as the cast might be, and as nice as the previews look, don't do it.

On the up-side, we did get many nice previews before the movie. I got to once again freak out watching Hugh Jackman drown in the preview for The Prestige, which I think I have almost memorized by now, and I got to wonder again in what strange country The Science of Sleep is set, where everyone speaks English with a different foreign accent. And hey, look (I said last night) - Mr. Tumnus is in The Last King of Scotland. Sweet. (So's Gillian Anderson. Doing British. Again.)

And I mentally spit coffee onto the computer now as I see that he was also in Children of Dune. Ouch. I'm sorry, man. That's like when the little mutant James has a crush on from X-Men was in the awful Sci-Fi Channel Earthsea movie. Wait, what? Mr. Tumnus was in Bright Young Things?? How did I miss that? Now I'm just getting confused. I should see that movie again. Have you seen it? You should. Do that rather than paying ten bucks for Trust the Man.

This is all hurting my brain.

(As I sit here, I am wearing black patent leather platform shoes that look roughly like the shoe pictured to the left, except mine were not $300 and are not made by Kate Spade. I'm breaking them in for Tara's wedding, which is this weekend, but I can't help feeling a little silly. One, because I'm here wearing my "work attire" of jeans and an H&M t-shirt with black patent leather platform shoes, and two, because "black patent leather platform shoes" sounds vaguely pornographic.)

Oh, and in case, for some reason, you weren't clicking on those weird-ass David Duchovny picture links above, I can't let you miss out on this:


Have a nice day.

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