Wknd Box Office: That’s My Boy, Rock of Ages, Hysteria
By Debbie
Schlusssel
In a nutshell, every one of the three new movies at theaters, this weekend, sucks.
* “That’s My Boy“: This is the feel good incest movie of the year. Two words: Adam Sandler. Plus his stupid, annoying baby talk voice. Oy. Then there are the many warped, vile, disgusting scenes involving semen and barf on a wedding dress, masturbation to the photo of a grandmother and then sex with her, etc. Oh, and the poop jokes. It’s sad that people like Tony Orlando (minus Dawn) and James Caan (who plays a violent Catholic priest) are involved in uber-garbage like this. If that isn’t enough to convince you to stay away, consider that this movie features a sex scene between a brother and sister and a more between a 13-year-old kid and his teacher.
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That’s how the story begins–with the kid, named Donny Berger, and the teacher. They get caught and the teacher gets pregnant from the relationship. She is sent to jail and Donny (Sandler) gets custody of the kid when he turns 18. He names the kid, Han Solo Berger (Adam Samberg), and the kid leaves on his 18th birthday and changes his name to get away from Donny. Now, he calls himself Todd and is a hedge fund manager about to marry his glamorous fiancee, Leighton Meester. But Donny worms his way back into his son’s life. Donny needs over $40,000 to pay taxes on millions in earnings he made as a celebrity who impregnated his teacher. Now, he’s broke, and he seeks to find a way to make the money so he can avoid jail. He shows up at Todd/Han Solo’s boss’ seaside mansion, and the hijinks begin. Or, rather, in the case of all Sandler movies–especially this one, sicker than them all–LOWjinks.
Vanilla Ice of ’80s fame has a recurring role in the movie and actor Todd Bridges plays himself (and is the object of the movie’s two funniest lines–”Whatchoo talkin’ bout, Willis?” and “How’s Mr. Drummond?”). There are a few funny lines, but this movie is just mostly very disgusting and to say it’s really bad would be the understatement of the year. It defies even its “R” rating most of the time. I thought Tony Orlando was supposed to be a conservative Republican. Tie a yellow ribbon around the old oak tree for his conscience to return home.
Stay away from this.
FOUR MARXES PLUS FOUR BIN LADENS
Watch the trailer . . .
* “Rock of Ages“: This appears to be aimed at the aging, leather-skinned former president of the Whitesnake fan club. And every over-tanned, saggy, over-peroxided woman in America who never got out of the 1980s time warp and still thinks wearing a cropped half-shirt around her kids’ friends is okay.
This flick is about as bad as “That’s My Boy,” and I wonder why it’s not “R”-rated. It certainly should be, but is PG-13. I don’t know about you, but if I never see another movie in my life featuring Tom Cruise’s nipples being licked by groupies, I’ll be just fine. Would have been better had I not seen this one either. Plus it features an overweight zhlubby Alec Baldwin wearing a long-haired wig and expressing his gay love for Russell Brand. Ick. Please drop the two of them on a desert island, so we never have to endure those talentless hacks again. On top of that, this movie proceeds to ruin forever every single decent hair-band song of the mullet era. The only good thing about this movie was the quick shot of a Sunset Strip gas station with the price of $1.31 per gallon. (The movie takes place in 1987.) If this is the state of modern musicals, time to close up shop on that genre . . . forever. It ain’t no “Showboat.” Not even close. Just total garbage. The villain, by the way, is a Christian woman, played by the warmed over Catherine Zeta-Jones, who is out to destroy heavy metal music a la Tipper Gore, while her Mayor husband sleeps around on her.
The story: a small-town girl from Oklahoma (Julianne Hough) takes a bus to Hollywood, dreaming of becoming a singer. She meets an employee of a famous rock bar/concert hall, who has the same dreams. The bar, owned by Alec Baldwin, needs money to pay tax bills and is hosting a big concert featuring rock star Tom Cruise (who is just awful). During cheesy, syrupy-awful renditions of the ’80s hair band hits, we see scenes of simulated sex, oral sex, and stripping. The Oklahoma girl ends up becoming a stripper. Given the PG-13 of this crap, I wonder what kind of person who takes his/her kids to see this calls him/herself a “parent.”
Terrific for Gitmo torture material. For everyone else, skip this at all cost. Two-plus hours of my life I’ll never get back, and neither will you.
FOUR MARXES PLUS FOUR BIN LADENS
Watch the trailer . . .
* “Hysteria“: The feel-good masturbation/vibrator movie of the year. Absolutely disgusting. I’m sure there are quite a few sickos out there who will enjoy their warped fetish being quenched. But for everyone else, watching fat, disgusting old ladies being masturbated by their doctors is just gross. The movie is about the doctor who invented the vibrator sex toy. Yes, Hollywood ran out of interesting and decent ideas, so now this is what passes for the topic of a movie. Parading as some sort of feminist tribute to sexual liberation and giving women sex toys, this garbage movie also involves a love story with the homely Maggie “America deserved 9/11″ Gyllenhaal. But that’s just a flimsy cover for the filthy story and scenes dreamed up by the Hollywood perverts. The story takes place in the late 1850s England, and women who are outspoken or unhappy are diagnosed with the catch-all diagnosis of “hysteria.” The doctor (Hugh Dancy, who is a better actor than to participate in this trash) masturbates them to cure them, and he does so many of these his hand cramps up and he loses his job and invents the vibrator instead. File under, stuff I never needed to know and wish I didn’t know now. Normally, I would be proud of myself in spotting a saying that was historically out of place. The doctor says, “My name is Mudd,” a phrase that didn’t come into being until 1865, after a Dr. Mudd treated John Wilkes Boothe and was accused of being involved in the conspiracy to assassinate Abraham Lincoln. And it’s mostly an American phrase, not a Britishism. But I’m not proud that I spotted anything in this vile and stupid movie. I’m even less proud I sat through it. It’s just sick.
FOUR MARXES PLUS TWO BETTY FRIEDANS
In a nutshell, every one of the three new movies at theaters, this weekend, sucks.
* “That’s My Boy“: This is the feel good incest movie of the year. Two words: Adam Sandler. Plus his stupid, annoying baby talk voice. Oy. Then there are the many warped, vile, disgusting scenes involving semen and barf on a wedding dress, masturbation to the photo of a grandmother and then sex with her, etc. Oh, and the poop jokes. It’s sad that people like Tony Orlando (minus Dawn) and James Caan (who plays a violent Catholic priest) are involved in uber-garbage like this. If that isn’t enough to convince you to stay away, consider that this movie features a sex scene between a brother and sister and a more between a 13-year-old kid and his teacher.
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google_protectAndRun("render_ads.js::google_render_ad", google_handleError, google_render_ad);
That’s how the story begins–with the kid, named Donny Berger, and the teacher. They get caught and the teacher gets pregnant from the relationship. She is sent to jail and Donny (Sandler) gets custody of the kid when he turns 18. He names the kid, Han Solo Berger (Adam Samberg), and the kid leaves on his 18th birthday and changes his name to get away from Donny. Now, he calls himself Todd and is a hedge fund manager about to marry his glamorous fiancee, Leighton Meester. But Donny worms his way back into his son’s life. Donny needs over $40,000 to pay taxes on millions in earnings he made as a celebrity who impregnated his teacher. Now, he’s broke, and he seeks to find a way to make the money so he can avoid jail. He shows up at Todd/Han Solo’s boss’ seaside mansion, and the hijinks begin. Or, rather, in the case of all Sandler movies–especially this one, sicker than them all–LOWjinks.
Vanilla Ice of ’80s fame has a recurring role in the movie and actor Todd Bridges plays himself (and is the object of the movie’s two funniest lines–”Whatchoo talkin’ bout, Willis?” and “How’s Mr. Drummond?”). There are a few funny lines, but this movie is just mostly very disgusting and to say it’s really bad would be the understatement of the year. It defies even its “R” rating most of the time. I thought Tony Orlando was supposed to be a conservative Republican. Tie a yellow ribbon around the old oak tree for his conscience to return home.
Stay away from this.
FOUR MARXES PLUS FOUR BIN LADENS
Watch the trailer . . .
* “Rock of Ages“: This appears to be aimed at the aging, leather-skinned former president of the Whitesnake fan club. And every over-tanned, saggy, over-peroxided woman in America who never got out of the 1980s time warp and still thinks wearing a cropped half-shirt around her kids’ friends is okay.
This flick is about as bad as “That’s My Boy,” and I wonder why it’s not “R”-rated. It certainly should be, but is PG-13. I don’t know about you, but if I never see another movie in my life featuring Tom Cruise’s nipples being licked by groupies, I’ll be just fine. Would have been better had I not seen this one either. Plus it features an overweight zhlubby Alec Baldwin wearing a long-haired wig and expressing his gay love for Russell Brand. Ick. Please drop the two of them on a desert island, so we never have to endure those talentless hacks again. On top of that, this movie proceeds to ruin forever every single decent hair-band song of the mullet era. The only good thing about this movie was the quick shot of a Sunset Strip gas station with the price of $1.31 per gallon. (The movie takes place in 1987.) If this is the state of modern musicals, time to close up shop on that genre . . . forever. It ain’t no “Showboat.” Not even close. Just total garbage. The villain, by the way, is a Christian woman, played by the warmed over Catherine Zeta-Jones, who is out to destroy heavy metal music a la Tipper Gore, while her Mayor husband sleeps around on her.
The story: a small-town girl from Oklahoma (Julianne Hough) takes a bus to Hollywood, dreaming of becoming a singer. She meets an employee of a famous rock bar/concert hall, who has the same dreams. The bar, owned by Alec Baldwin, needs money to pay tax bills and is hosting a big concert featuring rock star Tom Cruise (who is just awful). During cheesy, syrupy-awful renditions of the ’80s hair band hits, we see scenes of simulated sex, oral sex, and stripping. The Oklahoma girl ends up becoming a stripper. Given the PG-13 of this crap, I wonder what kind of person who takes his/her kids to see this calls him/herself a “parent.”
Terrific for Gitmo torture material. For everyone else, skip this at all cost. Two-plus hours of my life I’ll never get back, and neither will you.
FOUR MARXES PLUS FOUR BIN LADENS
Watch the trailer . . .
* “Hysteria“: The feel-good masturbation/vibrator movie of the year. Absolutely disgusting. I’m sure there are quite a few sickos out there who will enjoy their warped fetish being quenched. But for everyone else, watching fat, disgusting old ladies being masturbated by their doctors is just gross. The movie is about the doctor who invented the vibrator sex toy. Yes, Hollywood ran out of interesting and decent ideas, so now this is what passes for the topic of a movie. Parading as some sort of feminist tribute to sexual liberation and giving women sex toys, this garbage movie also involves a love story with the homely Maggie “America deserved 9/11″ Gyllenhaal. But that’s just a flimsy cover for the filthy story and scenes dreamed up by the Hollywood perverts. The story takes place in the late 1850s England, and women who are outspoken or unhappy are diagnosed with the catch-all diagnosis of “hysteria.” The doctor (Hugh Dancy, who is a better actor than to participate in this trash) masturbates them to cure them, and he does so many of these his hand cramps up and he loses his job and invents the vibrator instead. File under, stuff I never needed to know and wish I didn’t know now. Normally, I would be proud of myself in spotting a saying that was historically out of place. The doctor says, “My name is Mudd,” a phrase that didn’t come into being until 1865, after a Dr. Mudd treated John Wilkes Boothe and was accused of being involved in the conspiracy to assassinate Abraham Lincoln. And it’s mostly an American phrase, not a Britishism. But I’m not proud that I spotted anything in this vile and stupid movie. I’m even less proud I sat through it. It’s just sick.
FOUR MARXES PLUS TWO BETTY FRIEDANS
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