Jack and Jill

I don't think I have reviewed enough comedies, so today I thought I would like to continue the trend by reviewing Jack and Jill (which is now on Netflix), a movie that claims comedy status, but really just floats around in the void of cinematic nothingness.  If you are a fan of all things Adam Sandler and all things related to him, and do not like hearing negative criticisms of his projects, then now is a good time to stop reading and write me an email telling me what makes you tick, because I don't understand you.  I do think he has a lot of talent, but it just not seem to push its way into his movies these days.  As I type this review, I plan to talk about one good aspect of the film, and it has nothing to do with Mr Sandler.

The film is about Jack (Adam Sandler), who is a director of commercials.  This is the perfect roll for an Adam Sandler film, as it allows 'seamless' product placement and name dropping, something which I think his films have an affinity towards.  We get to, in totally organic and non-nauseating ways, have planted in our brains the brand names of Hooters, Dunkin Donuts (I lost count of how many times this one was mentioned and is a plot point), Pepto Bismol, Hilton, Sony, Price is Right, eHarmony, Match.com, Subway, Radio Shack, ShamWow, and Royal Caribbean Cruises (who actually get a full length commercial in the film).  He needs to land Al Pacino for Dunkin Donuts, who want to put him in a Dunkin Donuts commercial, and if he fails to get Pacino he loses the Dunkin Donuts account, as threatened by the Dunkin Donuts people.  He also has a sister named Jill (Adam Sandler), whom he plays in such a base and humourless way that I was left astonished at how this got greenlit.  Possibly because his production company made it.

I may be the only person out there who did not find this film funny.  If you are a  fan of such witty humour that includes fart jokes, a bird named Poopsy, animal abuse jokes, laughing at girls with hairy armpits, sweaty sheets and other sweat stain styled humour, making fun of homeless people, ladies getting punched in the face by young boys, making fun of Mexican stereotypes (hey look, a Mexican gardener), making fun of people who are slightly larger than thin/fat people, concussions, crushing a pony, public fart jokes, Indian stereotypes, earwax jokes, urine jokes, making fun of how Mexicans name their children, illegal immigrant jokes (Mexican related), making fun of people with funny faces, elderly people getting hit in the face with shoes and/or bats, Mexicans love jalapenos, gassy stomachs, diarrhea and much louder farts than we have been acquainted with previously in the film, then this movie is a comic gold mine.  For the rest of the population, it is a movie that makes fun of people, and those are the jokes.

Now, I did laugh a few times, and that was mostly around Al Pacino.  He was an extremely good sport, and portrayed a pretty messed up version of himself.  Not only did he go along with it, but he completely threw himself into the role and held nothing back, creating a performance that was entertaining to watch and had some fun in a movie that was otherwise void of humour (actually, I should admit there were two non-Pacino moments that I had a subtle laugh at).  Johnny Depp has a small part as well, and does what he can to make it entertaining.

That's all I have.  If you are looking for something insightful from me, then I need to have insightful content to review.  It is a pretty mean spirited movie that thrives on stereotypes and toilet humour without energy or wit to make it work.  There is nothing smart or touching about this film, although we do get many a moment when the sappy music starts up to let us know that we are supposed to be feeling emotions other than the self-loathing that we are cemented in on account of pressing the play button on this film.  Life is about making the most of our time on this earth, so please spend an hour and a half doing that instead of watching this film.

Rating - 0.5 out of 4 stars

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