So we went to this movie Tuesday night, you know, the "great" funny film riding high on the directing success of "40 Year Old Virgin."
If you plan to see it, and if you loved "40 Year Old..." then you may find this one amusing too. So please don't read my rant below and ruin it for yourself.
However, comma, if you are the kind of person who is sick of the slide down the crudity slope, then this rant's for you.
First off: I'm flat out sick of story lines that feature dumb, ugly guys getting smart pretty women. Please. The only movie that reversed this trend was "My Big Fat Greek Wedding" and the main difference is that at least the female protagonist IS smart and funny. Instead, male fantasy reigns in these sexual slapstick films - smart successful women are able to "see" good in schlubs. Uh, as unlikely as John Corbett falling for Nia Vardalos.
Second-atully: Jokes about masturbation and its, uh, results are just not funny. Period. Speaking of... How about we start a slew of female films that make jokes about tampons and bloody menstrual pads? Egg-zactly.
Thirdfully: Will we never, ever see a film that shows a side of birth I can actually relate to? Not every female in history has screamed for drugs at the moment the head crowns. Can you spell: t-i-r-e-d, t-e-d-i-o-u-s, overdone? Why convince the next generation of mothers-to-be over and over again that birth is the worst experience a woman could ever have? My daughters (who were born naturally at home) already think they want to be knocked out and totally under before they give birth just from Friends reruns. Puh-lease!
Natural birth could be jaw-hanging open funny, you know. Imagine a woman enjoying birth, finding it thrilling, stimulating, sensual, almost to the point of achieving ::gasp:: orgasm as the baby slides out the chute? See, I told you your jaw would hang open. Follow it up with the midwife serving up placenta soup postpartum. Yeah, funny, I swear. And as gross as every other sordid male activity in this weird film.
Fourth up: Bongs are not funny. Drugs are not funny. Schrooms are flat out scary. And no, just because you enjoy getting high every single day of your life doesn't make it acceptable behavior if you're a candidate for the future husband and father of your family.
Pleading the fifth: Clubbing when you're married without your husband is bizarre... and wrong, said the postmodernist.
Sexy six: Porn sites are also not funny.
Seventh: This film couldn't decide if it was a screed on married life or an embrace of conception to birth of an unwanted pregnancy. Marriage looked pretty tough in this film... and I can imagine many arguments about "who was right" in each marital crisis erupted on drives home.
Eight is enough: The redeeming aspect of this film: Pro, pro, pro, pro-life. Totally. Unequivocally. From the splitting cell to the first ultrasound at six weeks to every ultrasound and baby kick thereafter, to the rejection of a grandmother's suggestion to abort, to everyone's celebration of the baby... Yes! That, my friends, was the movie's one triumph.
Oh and the acting by Paul Rudd and Leslie Mann totally entertained me. I like both of them so well as actors.
Otherwise: patooey. I took multiple showers to cleanse myself after this one.
I blame "Something about Mary." Good God! Must I know every detail of male private sexual practices? Is there nothing sacred or secret any more? File this one under "I didn't want to know..."
Ha, I just found this perfect review of the movie. Fits my thinking to the tee. Amazing when you find someone who understands what you felt and then writes it so well.