Monday, September 9, 2013

Tim Riggins of Mars

You know what? I am done with movies where you have to crank the sound up whenever people are talking, and then turn it back down every time there's music or something explodes, over and over again, for the entire fucking running time. I watch movies to veg; if I wanted entertainment that was interactive, I'd play a video game or buy a hooker. Seriously, sound engineers, if this is the best you can do, maybe you should stick to the soundboard down at the beach bar, where you'll do less damage. Jimmy Buffett and Dave Matthews suck at any volume.

"Yeah, but these go to 11."
So, this multi-billion-dollar studio-killer (seriously, if anyone besides Disney had bankrolled this, you'd be using their stock for toilet paper right now) is about a character who is literally decades past his expiration date, and to make things worse it opens with a completely unnecessary scene on Mars, wholly undermining any potential sense of wonder we, the audience, might have experienced when John Carter actually arrives there. Oh, and get this: he's played by goddamned Tim Riggins from Friday Night Lights, which might have worked if the assclown didn't act like he was still playing Tim Riggins. Seriously, I'm surprised he wasn't knocking Martians out with well-aimed footballs and shit. Nice range, idiot. Get me another basket of chicken fingers and tell your soundboard guy he's over-amping this hippie's butchering of Tom Petty:

If it weren't for Sublime, this guy's playlist wouldn't have changed since 1978.
Of course the plot is fucking garbage, starting with a scene where the author of the actual book this movie is based on first reads the story he wrote as a "true account" in someone else's journal. Hollywood loves this gimmick, because the idea that anyone could actually make up an original, entertaining story out of whole cloth is utterly foreign to them. Hell, if Hollywood had its way, all movies would be nothing but one long, speaker-blowing explosion, punctuated every ten minutes or so by references and farting. This flick goes the opposite route though, with enough clumsily-presented backstory to make Dune (1984) seem coherent. Take that, you fucking art snobs, always demanding some sort of "context" for your farting. Plus: a comedic relief alien dog, Tim Riggins jumping around like the Hulk (it looks just as ridiculous as it sounds), and a running time that's longer than my first marriage.

Are you kidding me? How many fucks can one production not give?
On the plus side, I would totally bone their Princess of Mars:

Oh, yeah... how do you like that Mars probe, baby?
For more out-of-this-world... Meh, I can't even say it. Just buy my books.

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