......
I watched Crash again last night. I guess I was feeling sinful, like I needed to punish myself or something. It was either watch the film again or pull out my pituitary glands with a pair of rusted tongs.
The boyfriend hadn't seen it yet and is trying to see as many of the nominated films as possible. I should've snuck into the bedroom and watched Jake fuck Gwyneth til she cried, but I told myself to give Crash another chance. That maybe I'd been brainwashed by my gay cowboy infatuation, that it couldn't possibly be as bad as it had seemed to be in retrospect.
Oh, folly mine.
The film plays even worse on a repeat viewing. There is one solid scene in the entire film - the scene where Matt Dillon accosts Thandie Newton at the beginning. Plus, Sandra Bullock is still entertaining playing HERSELF. Otherwise, it's like an hour and a half of being fisted by a Klansman. A Klansman who just graduated the Amatuer Film School of Hammy Obviousness.
God. Damn.
Ebert's rampage defending this film has lost him so much respect in my book. What is wrong with him? How can he be blind to this film's bone-crushing terribleness? This film's all but got a lock on the Original Screenplay Oscar, and that's enough to make one toss a baby into traffic. Toss all babies into traffic, because no one should be raised in a world where a screenplay this truly awful can be celebrated.
This film was produced by Don Cheadle so he could lay naked on naked Jennifer Esposito, and call her a Mexican. Cheadle and his wacky fetishes, I dunno.
Seriously. Goddamn.
And the word that this... THIS!!! ... could win Best Picture over Brokeback? It makes me want to fish out my intestines through my bellybutton with my pinky finger and strangle myself with them. Seriously.... this would be head-over-Chicago the worst film to ever win. Do not disappoint me, Academy of Motion Picture Arts and Sciences.
I may have to riot otherwise.
I watched Crash again last night. I guess I was feeling sinful, like I needed to punish myself or something. It was either watch the film again or pull out my pituitary glands with a pair of rusted tongs.
The boyfriend hadn't seen it yet and is trying to see as many of the nominated films as possible. I should've snuck into the bedroom and watched Jake fuck Gwyneth til she cried, but I told myself to give Crash another chance. That maybe I'd been brainwashed by my gay cowboy infatuation, that it couldn't possibly be as bad as it had seemed to be in retrospect.
Oh, folly mine.
The film plays even worse on a repeat viewing. There is one solid scene in the entire film - the scene where Matt Dillon accosts Thandie Newton at the beginning. Plus, Sandra Bullock is still entertaining playing HERSELF. Otherwise, it's like an hour and a half of being fisted by a Klansman. A Klansman who just graduated the Amatuer Film School of Hammy Obviousness.
God. Damn.
Ebert's rampage defending this film has lost him so much respect in my book. What is wrong with him? How can he be blind to this film's bone-crushing terribleness? This film's all but got a lock on the Original Screenplay Oscar, and that's enough to make one toss a baby into traffic. Toss all babies into traffic, because no one should be raised in a world where a screenplay this truly awful can be celebrated.
This film was produced by Don Cheadle so he could lay naked on naked Jennifer Esposito, and call her a Mexican. Cheadle and his wacky fetishes, I dunno.
Seriously. Goddamn.
And the word that this... THIS!!! ... could win Best Picture over Brokeback? It makes me want to fish out my intestines through my bellybutton with my pinky finger and strangle myself with them. Seriously.... this would be head-over-Chicago the worst film to ever win. Do not disappoint me, Academy of Motion Picture Arts and Sciences.
I may have to riot otherwise.
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