Kill Me.... Please

That's what I'd be thinking if someone asked if I wanted to see Rachel Getting Married again.

Lisa and I saw it during our annual anniversary respite from home and family. We had seen Slumdog Millionaire the night before (and I canNOT recommend that film highly enough... THAT is one great film), and Frost/Nixon earlier that morning (again a great recommendation... 'specially for all those politicos out there), and we were looking for a mid-afternoon flick to tide us over before a big anniversary dinner and a possible fourth movie that evening [alas, I was coming down with the head cold from which I am now just recovering, and those plans went by the wayside]. So I asked Lisa what she wanted to see. And so Rachel it was.

OK, let me begin saying that this film is very well acted. Very natural. In fact, let me propose the following theory: there is no script to this film... it's all improv. Why do I say this? Because this is a mess. [now some critics might say that this is the messiness of life, that this is what life is like... to which I say, bullshit... or rather, why do I have to watch this bullshit? Artists are supposed to bring their art into focus for their audiences... anyway, I digress]

SPOILER ALERT (if you still want to see this travesty, just skip to tomorrow's entry)

Let us begin with the rehearsal dinner pre-show: in a scripted film, we'd see the most salient speeches, then we'd move on. But on no, we get to see every damn speech, no matter how trivial or unnecessary (and if you stay to the end, you'll see just how unnecessary they are). Then the rehearsal dinner itself: we get to hear EVERY freaking toast. Each of these scenes felt as if they were 20 minutes long. And through it all, Anne Hathaway's Kim is as self-absorbed as ever.

I was already beginning hate the film. Lisa said later that she could feel me beginning to recoil in my seat. But when, in the midst of the post-rehearsal fight, Rachel announces her pregnancy, and Kim want to go back to the subject of her own neuroses, well, I let go of a

FUCK

audible enough to be heard a couple of rows ahead and behind. Lisa looked at me, and smiled, and said something to the effect of "So you're not enjoying this, huh?"

[All I could respond is "Well, we're in the right fucking city for it." She got my reference right away... our getaway was taking place in a town in which a friend of hers had lived... well, early on in the renaissance of our relationship, a family member of the friend had passed away, and I had to escort Lisa to the in-home memorial service where EVERYONE had to speak... as I've come to learn from personal fucking experience in the last two years... some folks just don't grieve that way, bucko... again, I digress]

Just before the wedding, a couple in the same row (across the aisle) got up and left. That's the solution. But no, unless the film is Caveman with Ringo Starr or The Cook, The Thief, His Wife and Her Lover, Lisa stays through to the end (even if it's infuriating her like Glengarry Glen Ross). So as the reception begins, I get up to piss... I'm hoping that I'll see her in the hall when I exit the restroom... no... I'm tempted to text her from the restroom "lets go"... but my phone's on its last battery legs... it has only just enough juice to tell me that

NNOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO

There's still 30 fucking minutes left in this monstrosity.

And there's maybe five minutes of dialogue in those final thirty... the rest is music, songs... for no purpose. In the words of Marsha Mason in The Goodbye Girl, I've seen musicals with fewer songs. Ee, gad.

And the film ends. With the characters not changing a whit.

So what the hell was the purpose? None whatsoever, except to prove they could. Which, if I'm not mistaken, is only an excuse for late-night masturbation, not movie-making.

So we exit, and as I wait for Lisa to come back from the restroom, I listen to others in the audience:

So what'd you think?
[cue responding looks of "WHAT THE FUCK?"]

So, have you ever been to a wedding like that?
If I had, I would have put a bullet in my head.

And those were from the women.

Lisa didn't like the film either. She wasn't even enamored of the acting, which I felt was the most impressive I'd seen in an excruciating two-hour experience.

I'll never get those two hours back... but at least Lisa and I had some laughs drinking HARD after the movie, ripping to to shreds.

Avoid this movie like the plague. And to Owen Gleiberman of EW: what the hell were you thinking naming this the number 3 movie of the year????

So let's review today's analogy lesson:
Lisa is to Glengarry Glen Ross as Bill is to Rachel Getting Married... if you want to set up a double-feature of those flicks... count us out, thank you very much.