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Posts tagged ‘jennifer aniston’

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Salt is the most preposterous movie I’ve ever seen – and yes, I have watched both Lara Croft films and several of Steven Seagal’s.

No mystery in the answer to the tagline: Angelina Jolie

The entire plot is based on a plausible way of getting Angelina Jolie into a Russian costume with fur trim. Plausible, in this case, being a bendy, stretchy, logical-only-in-the-action-spy-thriller-adventure-context sort of concept.

Basically – and at first glance you wouldn’t think the word could be applied to this film but don’t be fooled – some Russian dude approaches the CIA offering information in exchange for amnesty. When CIA Agent Evelyn Salt interviews him, he announces that she is one of an undisclosed number of deadly Russian ‘sleeper agents’ sent to bring down the American government.

Is Angelina a Russian agent? Or a double-agent or even a triple- or quadruple-agent? Does anyone really care after Ange removes her knickers in the second scene?

Cue ever increasing ridiculousness.

Unfortunately, it’s perfectly clear which side Ange is on if you not-so-carefully observe whom she annihilates with a smouldering pout, and whom she merely kneecaps and smacks about playfully.

Similarly, Ange’s best friend is played by Liev Schreiber, so we all know where THAT’S going. Oh, come ON, it’s hardly a spoiler! Here’s a little movie quiz:-

GOODIE OR BADDIE:

Christopher Lee
Tom Cruise
Will Smith
Jason Isaacs
Alan Rickman
Arnold Schwarzeneger
Liev Schreiber-

EXACTLY. Liev Schreiber’s one of those actors who, as soon as he walks into frame, completely kills dramatic tension. Because you just KNOW.

The movie opens with Ange being tortured in North Korea, although thankfully she’s wearing matching underwear. She rolls around the floor wailing in her matching underwear, but later we’re expected to believe the same woman goes all ninja turtle on CIA and ex-KGB ass when she can’t garotte a couple of scrawny North Koreans with her bra? 

My credulity never fully recovered from that leap. I mean, I could understand if she didn’t want to be left with a pair of unmatched knickers, but that plot point was never clarified.

Then we’re introduced to the husband, an arachnologist, who was instrumental in getting her sprung. He’s obviously besotted with Ange because he gazes at her lovingly even though she has a fat eyelid.

In a cosy domestic scene, it is implied that Ange is smitten with him too, because she doesn’t mind him putting spiders on the breakfast table. I mean, isn’t that every guy’s dream? She also peeps coyly at him from behind a door, which is completely out of character and pure embarrassing. Her devotion would have been better established by treating him to hot, spider sex across the table.

I struggled to see the attraction. I mean, in one of a series of flashbacks that serves little purpose, he chats up Ange with the line, “I hunt spiders”. I don’t know about you, but that one never did it for me. But also, August Diehl is no Brad Pitt:

That said, he looks much nicer and probably doesn’t wear mirrored shades to check out his own reflection. 

Anyway. Ange goes on the run from the CIA to save her dog and prove her innocence while pretending to assassinate the Russian vice-president and trying to find her husband in her spare time.

When she builds a rocket launcher out of a table leg, bottle of bleach and a fire extinguisher, Ange breaks a nail and spends a couple of seconds flicking her hand around going, “Damn, I broke a nail.” And she spends less time constructing her weapon than pouting at the door in case some cute guy she wants to have hot spider sex with forces his way in.

At least she wouldn’t have had to take off her knickers, because she applied them to cover a security camera earlier. Which neatly ties up one loose end.

Then Ange returns to her apartment and has to crawl out the window in her pencil skirt when the CIA bursts in. There’s a wonderful shot from above of Angie clinging to some grouting five stories off the ground. After a lot of grunting and evading of an up-the-skirt shot, she makes it to street level, where she’s spotted STROLLING ALONG THE SIDEWALK by the guys she’s trying to evade . I mean, don’t you think she’d have concealed herself in a dumpster for five minutes? JEEZ.

There follows a high voltage chase sequence. Before filming, Ange should have watched The Bourne Trilogy, which would have taught her that, when you momentarily shake your pursuers, NEVER RUN to evade capture. Walk casually yet briskly, admiring the birds and occasionally referring to a map while tying your shoelaces if absolutely necessary. It also helps if you’re not wearing a light suit that’s marinated in blood. Also, if you don’t run like a girl.

At one point, Ange takes a course in The Superman School of Disguise by wearing a hat, contact lenses and a pair of false teeth. But even that was preferable to disguising herself as a man, which was frankly deeply disturbing.

Another time, she kills some actor eating into her screen time with a modified yoga-stretch, which was cool. But nothing could redeem Ange after she entrusts her pet to a neighbour’s kid to look after; yet has no qualms about abandoning the dog before the credits roll. Ultimately, I don’t care if she was a goodie or baddie: what a bitch.

Someone – and I’m not mentioning names – but I’m LOOKING AT YOU MarkJ, yeah YOU, that’s the prickle you feel at the back of your neck, although you also need to turn down the gas heater – raised the question whether Jennifer Aniston would be able to ‘pull off’ this role.

The answer is no.

However, I’d like to see Angelina ‘pull off’ a role where she’s required to show any motivation other than looking hot, nasty, and about three days overdue a bath.

2/5

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He’s Just Not That Into You

I was mentally violated at MarkJ’s last night.
Of course, camp and all as it is, we should have watched The Long Kiss Goodnight. Geena Davis – despite that Mount Rushmore quality chin – maybe even BECAUSE OF that monumental mandible – was totally hot before she married Renee Harlin and became a sex slave instead of an international superstar.I’ve always loved that iconic scene where she’s strapped to the mill-wheel and, instead of just drowning her, the baddies dunk her a few times for laughs and to see what she looks like in a wet t-shirt, giving Charly the opportunity to escape her bonds and seize upon a submachine gun discarded on the bottom of the mill pond and blast their motherfucking heads off. God, get a load of the language out of me! It really IS true: movies breed violence.
MarkJ had prepared no shortlist, so I picked out some movies whose titles sounded optimistic, but they were lesbian flicks and MarkJ gave me a hard time, implying I was a lesbian. I have to say, he obviously had a disproportionately high number of lesbian flicks in his collection, so I’m not sure what that says about MarkJ except that maybe HE’S a lesbian.
Generally, a good romcom will do the trick for me – but that one, innocuous, often misapplied, little word ‘good’ disqualifies most contenders.
MarkJ suggested ‘He’s Just Not That Into You’, hastily qualifying this by saying he hadn’t watched it himself yet. The movie is based on the book of the same title, a self-help book whose premise can be condensed into one multiple choice question:
So, you meet a guy, and he says he’ll call, but he DOESN’T and then, when you ring HIM, you get his voicemail, so you drop by his house because you were just passing by ANYWAY, and he sets his dogs on you and later the police arrest you because of the restraining order – but dammit, how were you to know? – so does he:
a) like you
b) not like you
c) not sure
Personally, I learned that lesson at the age of sixteen (I have the teeth marks to prove it) and have no idea how they made a whole book out of the subject. But if you answered a) or c) you might want to pick up a copy.
Anyhoo, the movie is about a group of couples and one slapper, all of whom either break up and then get back together, or are together and then break up. It was somewhat lacking in dramatic tension although regrettably not cliches. Also, you could see the plot twists coming like giant, inflatable pretzels being towed behind a light aircraft.
The characters were pretty much uniformly one-dimensional and unlikeable, apart from Jennifer Aniston who couldn’t pull off unlikeable if she whined like Gwyneth Paltrow while torturing a puppy.
There’s Gigi, who does not appear to have any pride, which is just as well because she would routinely shove it up her bum. She calls guys, she leaves multiple insane voice messages, she stalks, she quizzes men on what they mean by ‘Nice to meet ya’, and she appears to have a worrying fetish for obscenely hirsute legs. (Note: this character is supposed to be a twenty something everywoman, rather than a thirteen year old with a crush on Robbie Williams.)
Gigi gives a tremulous, impassioned speech about how her actions may be so cringeworthy that I could only watch it through my fingers and MarkJ pulled his t-shirt over his face, but that at least she’s daring her heart and feeling something or . . . something. SHE IS TRYING TO MAKE A VIRTUE OUT OF STUPIDITY! It’s like trying to make a virtue out of . . . of . . . crack cocaine addiction, or the Atkins diet.
What else? Scarlett Johanssen stalks a married man, and then gets all upset when he bundles her into a cupboard half-naked when his wife calls to his office (I know, UNBELIEVABLY cliched) (this scene was also more cringe-worthy than a Fawlty Towers finale). I hate to think of a slut like Scarlett throwing herself at Husband. At least I know he would say: “Scarlett, I know you want me. That’s understandable. But step away from the lunchbox. I mean it. I am madly in love with my wife, and you have thick legs.”
Then we have The Wife, who was more concerned whether her husband was smoking on the sly than shagging some slut (see above). And then The Wife finds a packet of cigarettes wrapped in his gym towel – but I ask you: if someone is trying to cover up an illicit smoking habit, do they really HIDE packets of cigarettes? Surely they SMOKE THEM? I would have thought illicit smokers bought packs of twenty, went to a secluded spot, and inhaled the lot of them, one after another, in a furtive five minute session before burning any remaining evidence.
Well, that’s what I would do.
So, I don’t recomment He’s Just Not That Into You.
And don’t get me started on the other movie we watched.
Great evening though – thanks MarkJ

I was mentally violated at MarkJ’s last night.

Of course, camp and all as it is, we should have watched The Long Kiss Goodnight. Geena Davis – despite that Mount Rushmore quality chin – maybe even BECAUSE OF that monumental mandible – was totally hot before she married Renny Harlin and became a sex slave instead of an international superstar. I’ve always loved that iconic scene where Geena’s strapped to the mill-wheel and, instead of just drowning her, the baddies dunk her a few times for laughs and to see what she looks like in a wet t-shirt, giving her the opportunity to escape her bonds and seize upon a submachine gun discarded on the bottom of the mill pond and blast their motherfucking heads off. God, get a load of the language out of me! It MUST be true: movies breed violence.

MarkJ had prepared no movie shortlist, so I picked out some films whose titles sounded optimistic, but they were lesbian flicks and MarkJ gave me a hard time and implied I was a lesbian. I have to say, he had a disproportionately high number of lesbian flicks in his collection, so I’m not sure what that says about MarkJ except maybe HE’S a lesbian so there.

Generally, a good romcom will do the trick for me – but that one, innocuous, often misapplied, little word ‘good’ disqualifies most contenders.

hesjustnotthatintoyou

MarkJ suggested ‘He’s Just Not That Into You’, hastily qualifying this by saying he hadn’t watched it himself yet. The movie is based on the book of the same title, a self-help book whose premise can be condensed into one multiple choice question:

So, you meet a guy, and he says he’ll call, but he DOESN’T and then, when you ring HIM, you get his voicemail, so you drop by his house because you were just passing by ANYWAY, and he sets his dogs on you, and later the police ARREST you because of the restraining order – but dammit, how were you to know? – so does he:

a) like you
b) not like you
c) not sure

Personally, I learned that lesson at the age of sixteen (I have the teeth marks to prove it) and have no idea how they made a whole book out of the subject. But if you answered a) or c) you might want to pick up a copy.

Anyhoo, the movie is about a group of couples and one slapper, all of whom either break up and then get back together, or are together and then break up. It was somewhat lacking in dramatic tension although regrettably not cliches. Also, you could see the plot twists coming like giant, inflatable pretzels being towed behind a light aircraft.

The characters were pretty much uniformly one-dimensional and unlikeable, apart from Jennifer Aniston who couldn’t pull off unlikeable if she acted like Gwyneth Paltrow while torturing a puppy.

There’s Gigi, who does not appear to have any pride, which is just as well because she would routinely shove it up her arse. Gigi stalks guys, she calls them, leaving multiple insane voice messages, she quizzes men on what they mean by ‘Nice to meet ya’, and she appears to have a fetish for obscenely hirsute blokes. (Note: this character is supposed to be a twenty something everywoman, rather than a thirteen year old with a crush on Robbie Williams.)

Gigi gives a tremulous, impassioned speech about how her actions may be so cringeworthy that I could only watch her through my fingers and MarkJ pulled his t-shirt over his face, but that at least she’s daring her heart and emotionally open or . . . something. SHE IS TRYING TO MAKE A VIRTUE OUT OF STUPIDITY! It’s like trying to make a virtue out of . . . of . . . crack cocaine addiction, or the Atkins diet.

What else? Scarlett Johansson stalks a married man, and then gets all pouty when he bundles her into a cupboard half-naked when his wife turns up unexpectedly at his office (cliched to the point of parody) (this scene was also more cringe-worthy than a Fawlty Towers finale). I hate to think of a slut like Scarlett throwing herself at Husband, but at least I know he would say: “Scarlett, I know you want me. That’s understandable. But step away from the lunchbox. I mean it. I am madly in love with my wife, and you have thick legs.”

Then we have The Wife, who was more concerned whether her husband was smoking on the sly than shagging some slut (see above). The Wife finds a packet of cigarettes wrapped in his gym towel – but I ask you: if someone is covering up an illicit smoking habit, do they really HIDE packets of cigarettes? Surely they SMOKE THEM? I would have thought illicit smokers buy packs of twenty, go to a secluded spot, and inhale the lot of them, one after another, in a furtive five minute session before burning any remaining evidence.

Well, that’s what I would do.

So, I don’t recommend it. Watch something else. Yoga and Meditation For Stress Relief, for example.

And don’t get me started on the other movie we watched.

Great evening though – thanks MarkJ

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