Monday, August 31, 2009

"The Shape of Things": we also would have accepted "The Aspect of Stuff"

Neil LaBute, how dare you make me hate watching Paul Rudd, Rachel Weisz, and Gretchen Mol.

It's on the scale of making false claims to justify the invasion of a middle eastern country, or making a fat kid hate untended jars of cake frosting.

Not only was Neil LaBute's boring and predictable 2003 film adaptation of his boring and predictable 2001 play of the same name both boring and predictable, he didn't even give us the satisfaction of having Paul Rudd punch Rachel Weisz in the face while wearing a bear suit.

Rachel Weisz plays a hipster art student who turns a fat and frumpy Paul Rudd into a skinny preppy sissy Paul Rudd. Did we mention she's an art student? And did you see the tag line "SEDUCTION IS AN ART"? I wonder what will happen at the end of the movie. Do you think it'll work out between Paul Rudd and Rachel Weisz? I really hope it does!

I love Paul Rudd, Rachel Weisz, and Gretchen Mol. They're all talented and funny actors. I would love to have sex with Weisz or Mol, and if he liquored me up enough I'd probably let Rudd get to second base. Watching these three talented actors, and Peter Weller's cousin (really!) chit chat for this movie's ninety minute run time is about as engaging, interesting, and thought-provoking as watching a 60 Minutes special on Spencer Pratt while systematically inserting the shards of a shattered chandelier from Radio City Music Hall into your anus.

I honestly cannot remember why, but for one of my sophomore-year media analysis classes we had this movie as one of our screenings. When it was announced to the 200+ students in the lecture, one guy in the back gasped "YES!". He was the That Guy of that class, and now he spends his days uploading unfunny clips of himself doing open mics at great LA comedy clubs to Youtube. This guy was an utter douchebag that everyone at my school despised. Don't be That Guy. That Guy loves "The Shape of Things".

TOO MUCH: pretentious dialogue, predictable endings, obvious platitudes passed off as lofty insights


IF YOU SAID THIS WAS YOUR FAVORITE MOVIE, I'D THINK: You are a pretentious art or theater snob, or you are a clinically insane mass-murderer-to-be. For the record, those are basically the same things.

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