Friday, February 22, 2008
My husband and I recently signed up for Netflix. We were members a long time ago, but we found we didn't have the time or the inclination to watch the movies. On top of which, we have absolutely nothing in common, and "nothing" includes movie preferences. Sometimes I get bummed about it, but mostly I can deal with it, due to the amazing sex that comes along with being married to Mr. Pitsberger. But I digress. Anyway, a couple months ago, when we bought our house we made the decision to not get any kind of pay TV. I know, we're freaks, right? You should see some of the looks I get when I tell people I don't have cable. It's the same sort of look you'd get if you told someone you had three nipples or eleven toes. Or that you like to eat babies for breakfast. Obviously, I still have an internet connection and we frequent Half-Price Books, so I was surprised to realize earlier this week that I am happy with having no TV. But there are times when I just want to vegetate in front of the boob tube, so we signed up for Netflix. We watched the first movie in our queue, Shoot 'Em Up last night. Well, I watched it. He lasted about five minutes before he'd had enough and went to hit the online poker tables. I, on the other hand, sat through the entire movie. I have this curse, you see. If I start watching something, I have to see how it ends. I actually sat through "Deal or No Deal" last week, I've sat through countless Lifetime and Cinemax movies, I even watched "Gigli" when I caught it in the middle on HBO. Why? Because I had to. I HAD to know how it ended. It's a disease. I call it Chronic Acute Nebbitosis. Thankfully not life-threatening, but annoying and sometimes painful just the same.
And it's lucky for you that I have this ailment because I can tell you that "Shoot 'Em Up" is the most horrible, craptastic piece of movie making crap I have ever seen in my life. Keep in mind I watched "Gigli." With Ben Affleck. And Jennifer Lopez. She played a les.bi.an. She can't even act like she likes her husband, let alone act like she likes girls. So, "Shoot 'Em Up" was almost unwatchable. The only salvation for this movie, and the only reason even with my acute nebbitosis that I sat through it, was Clive Owen. Not that it was so wonderfully acted, just that I got to look at him a whole bunch. I don't know which part was worse: the absurd premise (gun control-endorsing terminally ill Senator harvesting babies of his own making for bone marrow vs. gun manufacturer and henchmen trying to kill one of said babies which indirectly would kill the Senator), or the ridiculous dialogue ("Tell me a story." "Maybe later, when I put you to sleep,") or the fact that I saw two, yes two(!) people get killed with carrots!!! Carrots!!! Could there be anything more ridiculous? Among other unbelievably stupid scenes/plot elements: a gunfight during a sky dive, a lactating hooker and bullets fired by being placed between fingers and held in front of a fireplace. Also, if I had a nickel for every shot fired in this movie, I'd be buying a Benz right now.
Yeah. So do yourself a favor and skip this one. If you're like me and you absolutely MUST look at Clive, and desperately need to hear that sexy, husky-voiced British accent (please excuse me for a moment, I'm getting women woodies just thinking about it...ok, I'm better) I suggest "Closer," "Sin City" or "King Arthur."
In summation, I give "Shoot 'Em Up" a half star. Clive sure is hot though. He should never be allowed to wear clothes. I'm starting a petition.