Walk-out

Last weeks I have been to a number of movies. This is not in itself really that interesting, because I go to a number of movies each week. Last week though, I went to a movie I walked out on. This does not happen. Ever. The movie can’t be so bad that I will try to sit it through, watch for a silver lining, see if there is anyone cute enough to stick around for. This usually gets me through the hour and a half most movies measure.

And this week has been an interesting movie week. Some movies I’d been looking forward to, some I have NOT been looking forward to but still enjoyed, and THAT movie, the movie that made me physically ill.

And the movie in question you ask? What movie was so bad you had to walk? What movie should we avoid?
I’ll tell you, even though mentioning the movie or typing it’s name summons up waves of pain and nausea from my poor little wrecked body. Because that’s the kind of person I am, I sacrifice much of myself for you, my gentle readers.

Ok, here goes.

The Break-Up.

Ouch… pain… pain.. I am trying to type even though my fingers are cramping and spasming, even though my head threatens to explode, even though my heart is throbbing with despair and my blood sings songs of retribution and violence.

This movie is BAD. Not badly acted, because it was actually quite well acted, not badly scripted, because it was very well scripted, not badly filmed, because, well, you get the drift.
And perhaps this movie would have been better if it had even the one technical flaw, even the one highly improbable scene, even a character that was a little out there, but it hadn’t. And precisely that makes it insufferable.

The premise of the movie is a break-up, two people who have been in a relationship for a while but when cracks begin to show try to make each-others lives a hell in a small condo in a big town.
Which is a good premise, everyone has had a break-up, so it’s instantly recognizable, and a lot of good movies have come from break ups. War of the Roses, She-Devil, Scorned, I can name a few. Only one of those three was actually a good movie, but ALL THREE were better than the pile of drivelled manure that is The Break-Up.

As I said, I walked out of the movie, so I have only seen the first thirty minutes, but those were enough to fill my heart with a specific type of pain I was ready to kill myself to get rid of.

Why? Well, simple. A good break-up movie is a movie about a relationship between two people whom you like enough to want to see them happy, but where you can also see that both are wrong enough for each other that you can look forward to a good deal of snideness and righteous indignation.
And what is the bad thing here? Simple, there is a couple, who are bad for each other. Or basically, there is a couple, and HE is bad for HER. He is, quite simply, the most annoying, aggravating, ungratefull piece of shite ever to be vomited out of the malignant braintumor of a screenwriters godlessly sentient afterbirth.

In the 30 minutes I watched I have seen him crash on a couch and pull of his shoes five minutes before the dinner party his wife had painstakingly set up, only to quickly go showering just when the guests arrive so as not to have to help her in any specific way. This is annoying to say the least, and with annoying I mean that if my boyfriend should ever try that I will personally nail his balls to a stucco’d wall and let him know that the fire ants are on their way.
He also managed to PURPOSEFULLY fuck up a simple request the girlfriend asked of him, got out from setting the table by using the “but if you do it you’ll get the accomplishment of doing something all by yourself”, and to hazzle up a ongoing conversation about a pool table that nearly had me in tears, of anger, rage, and sadness.

Oh, by the way, should any of you be considering a relationship with me, or find yourself in such a situation (my heart bleeds for you) and you use the abovementioned excuse (“…all by yourself…”) I will personally kill you, your family, your friends, your pets, the friends of your friends and your favourite supermarket cashier. I will then proceed to delve into the black arts, resurrect you and yours, and start over.
Now usually when someone threatens someone else, the reaction is “I’d like to see you try” and in this case I can honestly tell you: “no, you would not see me try, because I will kill you before you have seen me. And If I won’t kill you soon, I will tear out your eyes, and still you will not see me try.”

I hated this movie. And I don’t hate. Really. People say I have too good a worldview, I can forgive almost everything I have watched a mormon mother disown her gay son and all I could think was that this person wanted the best for her kid within the view she had of the world. So I couldn’t hate her, just feel sad. But I HATE this movie. I was sad, true, but mostly I felt a distinct flaming bout of despisement. Honestly, I hated this movie enough for me to completely cut through all ties with whomever expressed a liking to this movie. If any of my friends or family would have said they liked this load of crap I would kick them out of my house and my life.

Well, this is it, for now, I will try to do more movies soon, but my fingers are raw and bloody from doing this movie. Which I hated. (I’m sorry but I did)

Regards,

Kevin.