I hate to create my long over-due "first thread" as an over-the-top, intellectually condescending movie review directed at those who have seen this particular flick and didnt find it as engrossing, or to those who dont intend to see it based on what some salaried print-schmuck had to say.
The movie spoke to me and I feel weakly obligated to spread the word.
Or maybe I'm simply trying to verbally translate the excitement of having a beautiful woman seated next to me in the theater (yes, voluntarily) who was equally enthralled by, and surprisingly intelligent enough to completely comprehend the message in this film.
Nah... Ive tripped on my tongue under those circumstances too many times to allow that to influence my thoughts and share the details with anyone but my pillow again.
This commentary is fueled by the movie itself, from that anatomical part of me which contains the brain.
However mi-nute that may be.
See the film.
Or dont.
The message is out there to be found- Somewhere.
This film isnt about the actors holding up the characters- Freeman and Nicholson pull it off not for the sake of their worthy notoriety as kings of the silver screen.
Alas if the "message" had 10 times less impact than it had, the accusation that the actors were cast to sell the story would still be a head-in-ass statement. The story was rock solid. But probably as simple as a rock too. Really.
My immediate reaction to the film would rate about two tissues less than the impact a daytime drama sponsored by "Swiffer sweeper" might have on a neglected bipolar housewife.
But as compulsive as it may have been, the thought of a teardrop making its way to my eye-sockets was short-lived as I sat in the theater thinking to myself "this 100 minute movie deserved another 6 months of script" (and at least one more John Mayer tune)
However I was inspired, and entertained.
When you see it, you may agree: 6 months from now may be 6 months too late to do something kind for a stranger...see something truly majestic... kiss the most beautiful woman in the world...
Live your Bucket list now.
6 months notice is a luxury most of us will never have.
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At the age of fourteen a Zoroastrian named Vilma ritualistically shaved my testicles. There really is nothing like a shorn scrotum... it's breathtaking- I suggest you try it.