Written by: JackHork, Special to CC2K
As I write this, I am in the fifth row under cover of darkness in the midst of an estrogen-laced movie theater in the heart of down-town D.C. Yuppie-opolis, here to attend a preview screening of New in Town. I am surrounded by career-oriented women, their gal-pals and metrosexual husbands. There may even be the occasional gay man in the room, but even they fear to reveal themselves to this chattering brood of harpies. I strive to maintain my anonymity, but my burly pecs and testosterone laced musk permeate the room and my gender is instantly known. If I can only stay hidden from their prying eyes long enough to escape from this hell, I will consider myself lucky. Alas, all my masculine wiles cannot withstand the scrutiny of the brood and I am lost. Please tell my mother that I love her, I feel them closing in. I am doomed! (rest of report lost)
I knew I was in trouble the moment I stepped into the lobby and there were gift bags available. I don't know what was in the actual gift bag because the table was surrounded by a multitude of middle-aged women 'ooo-ing' and 'ahh-ing' about the sack of crap they were getting…for FREE! I bypassed the bags and stepped into the theater, but there was another table; this one was for a raffle. What the F*@%? A RAFFLE!?! I circumvented that one, too and scurried into the theater proper. I found a chair near the front, near the center and settled in.
Around 7:20, the 'movie mom' started addressing the ladies. Now, I have no idea who the movie mom is, but apparently, the ladies did because there was actually a smattering of applause from the crowd, perhaps that was just politeness, I don't know. She began by telling everyone how much they were going to enjoy the film and that she saw it the night before and they can read her review on Friday (Why would they do that if they were seeing it themselves?) I suppose the fact that she was there again was testimony to her enjoyment of the movie.
Then, she got to announce the winners of the raffle. Again, a big buzz of excitement from the crowd. The prizes (and I actually tried to write these down because I knew this would be worth reporting on) were:
* A gift basket of dermatological skin-care products
* A Consultation at a local gym?? ($100 value! SHITE, I'm in the wrong line of work)
* Facial Products
* A Candle (possibly more stuff, I was too busy being amazed at this crap)
* One free Botox session
Holy sheep-dip, friends, Botox! As a giveaway! You must be shitting me!
All supplied courtesy of beautyindc.com, yes I grabbed their website, because, damn, that's just ballsy to give people stuff because you think they're ugly.
After the giveaways, the movie mom gave her definition of a chick flick, and danged if I didn't jot these down, too, because nothing smells better to me than the pretentiousness of others. (Yeah, yeah, no one's more pretentious than me, get bent!)
A movie can be considered a chick flick if it has at least two of the following three things:
1. a makeover (and she encouraged the crowd to holler when they saw one, believe me, they did)
2. a humiliating public apology with a marriage proposal (she credited her husband for this one)
3. a pop-song montage
Good God a'mighty, I may just be in the presence of genius. (that was sarcastic, by the way)
Finally, the giveaways were given, the lights went down and the movie started…with a preview, of course. The preview was for Tyler Perry's Madea Goes to Jail. Now, I don't know if anyone has seen any of the Tyler Perry franchise, but for a man, Tyler Perry makes a striking large black woman. I know this isn't the movie I was sent to review, but this preview was just too good to pass up. In fact, if CC2K can score me a screening of that one, well I just might have to go. The problem with the preview, and therefore the movie, is it's incomprehensible. And I mean that literally; the preview is incapable of being comprehended. Let me take just a few lines to elaborate. There's a guy, right? And he's going to marry a girl, okay so far? They are seen discussing the wedding type stuff, blah blah blah, still with me? Jump to six foot five Tyler Perry with a wig and a dress chatting with her…daughter? Friend? Niece? No idea. Ha ha ha. Back to the serious bit. A hooker gets busted, soon-to-be-married-guy is her public defender, and he knows her from back in the day. Of course, he tries to help her. Back to Tyler Perry in a dress, har-dee-har-har. Look! He's cracking on Dr. Phil! Man, that's rich! Flip back to hooker and the fiancé, and there's a confrontation with the girlfriend. STOP! Do I HAVE to tell you how that's going to END!??! Really? If you cannot see the way that movie will most likely end, then you have got to get off this website right now; you don't deserve to be here. Sure, she might end up dead, she might save the girlfriend's life in a knife fight, but odds are they're going to be a couple at the end of the film. I can't even continue discussing that preview; my mind is broken. (Oh yeah, one last thing from that before we move on: the hooker is Rudy Huxtable, yes, Keshia Knight-Pulliam, and damn did she ever grow up to be a pretty lady)
Okay, preview over, and at long last, the movie starts. Renee Zellweger in New in Town. Lots of snow, some bad accents because this is supposed to be Minnesota, more snow. Zellweger jogging by the beach; she lives in Miami. Now she's in a corporate boardroom and oh, she's being sent to Minnesota! Hey, that's not original at all! Hmm, she's unprepared for the snow, the people, the weather related hazards. Rugged handsome guy (played by Harry Connick, Jr, who, for an actor, is a helluva musician), he's a single dad, has thirteen year old daughter. The plant she was sent to is being automated and half the staff is to be fired; he's the local union rep; corporate board decides to just close the plant; she takes action and saves the day with pudding (I KID YOU NOT!! Tapioca f'ing pudding!) blah blah blah, do I have to continue?
This movie is so full of stereotypes, hackneyed writing (in fact one of the writers did the screenplay for Sweet Home Alabama. Hmmm, steal ideas much?), gratuitous funny Minnesotans; they make fun of accents, hard-working people, corporations, everything. This is movie is such a giant piece of crap that if you go see it, I cannot be responsible for you taking your own life. I didn't even pay for it, but I want my money back.
And here's the most depressing thing about it: the ladies in the audience hooted and hollered at every little thing. I think there must have been some happy pills crushed up in the facial creams.