Gigli

Tonight may be a bit of a crap storm, as my proof reader is out watching Gravity and I am incredibly tired.  Physically tired, to be exact.  I don't know what is worse sometimes, physically tired or mentally tired.  My current state is causing me to take multi-syllabic words and any phrases with coherence and mash it into grammatical feces, so it could be a bit of a mess to try and read through.  I will give it a once over afterwards, but I doubt that could help.

And when mush is the current state of the mind, why not turn to a movie that takes competent minds and turns them to mush.  Gigli is a self-described 'romantic comedy' starring Ben Affleck and Jennifer Lopez.  It came out in August of 2003, and was directed by Martin Brest.  It takes a lot of criticism for being an atrocious movie (6% on Rotten Tomatoes), and seems to have permanently marred the careers of all involved.

I don't want to sound like someone who jumps on the bandwagon and bashes this film.  I also wish I could say that saltines are the essence of succulence.  But I can't.  As saltines are dusty and dry, this movie is painful.  Shove too many saltines in your mouth and your ability to consume is temporarily shut down, and watch too many consecutive minutes of Gigli and logic and reason begin to wane.

The movie is about a supposed criminal named Gigli (rhymes with really) played by Ben Affleck, and Jennifer Lopez, another supposed criminal.  It is a movie about what supposed criminals do as part of their successful criminal activities, working for supposed compotent criminal employers, pulling off supposed well thought out and well planned kidnapping schemes, all the while allowing for some supposed comedy and supposed chemistry.

If that paragraph did not make sense, that's alright because even though the movie's basic plot does make sense while watching it, it still leaves one scratching their heads.  I could go into all the details of the brilliant kidnapping scheme (where Gigli walks into a group home, walks out with his mentally disabled target, takes him to an apartment with large windows on which he never shuts his blinds, allows all strangers and police officers who knock on the door to enter, goes through no efforts to keep his victim from using the phone, and lets his victim sleep on the couch - which is pretty darn close to the door - while he sleeps in the next room with the door closed, and while the police are scouring the city for him, takes him for rides in a convertible).  Blargh, I am growing stupider.

If you want to witness the breakdown of Scott, the individual, then just probe him with questions about Gigli.  It will, inevitably, bring him to his breaking point.  Half an hour into the movie I leaped off the bed, ranted with my appendages flailing madly, and then was compelled to send an angry email.  This movie taps into the rage that lurks in us all, and can drive us to utter insanity.

There is no one big problem with this film.  Everything is really the problem.  I did find that Martin Brest's vision of what a mentally disabled person is to be very saddening.  Justin Bartha, who played the kidnapped Brian, did such a base level portrayal that was completely insulting.  It was the kind of character that feeds into stereotypes and sets back popular understanding of this group of people many years.

Of all the acting, there were two bright moments in the film.  One was from a cameo by Christopher Walken (who played a police officer investigating the kidnapping, but who seemed to never bother to find a description of the suspect), and Al Pacino (a criminal who you dare not cross).  Both actors gave very interesting performances and seemed to have fun with what they were doing.  Ultimately, their appearances were of absolutely no consequence whatsoever.  Any work they did to bring tension into the plot was destroyed minutes later when they are forgotten.

The rest of the acting was plenty plain.  I don't really blame Lopez and Affleck, as what they were working with was just not good.  Lopez, in particular, was given three extended scenes of dialogue that I must believe were meant to be cerebral, sensual, or cunning.  In each case the scenes fell flat, because those sort of scenes were never in Jennifer Lopez's wheelhouse and should not have been forced on her.  Heck, even Meryl Streep would have had a hard time making those segments captivating.

Coming from a director with two Oscar nominations (both for Scent of a Woman) and a budget of $54 million, it was a bit of a disaster.  This makes me feel good in the sense that I am not alone in my pain.  It debuted at a miserable 8th place in the box office (it lost to Spy Kids 3D) and made only $3.7 million.  After all its time in theatres, across the entire surface of the planet, it only made $7.266 million.  This movie ruined the career of Martin Brest (literally... he has done nothing since and is hardly seen), and it ruined my night.

Don't let it ruin yours.

Rating - 0.5 out of 4 stars