At the end of this movie, the dude behind me said four times “Is no one else in this theatre confused?”. Perhaps to the poor girl sitting next to him? He spaced these outbursts out, as if he’d gone blind and deaf with his idiocy, and was hoping a bro’ could throw him a lifeline. As if he hoped other redneck idjits would rise up and join torches to burn the puzzle outta this town. I turned to my girlfriend and loudly growled “I think someone in this theatre is actually confused.” (He got up and left).
Then the two dipshits in front of me whipped out their cell phones (slash: flashlights) and tried to distract me from the STILL GOING ON work of art on the screen. The film’s end credits contain an entire original dance sequence and musical number, showing you an entire epic scene that was hinted at but never shown during the main story. They are a stylized PART OF THE MOVIE. But everyone was up and walking out, or checking in with their facebook. I leaned in and read their texting over their shoulders and blew on their hair. I whipped out my phone and shined it in the sides of their faces (but this just elicited a minor confused looks). They struck me as this weird alien species, masquerading as men, who missed class the day “how to watch a movie” was explained.
This was a great movie, and a lot of people don’t deserve it. Continue reading “Sucker Punch (2011): a feminist masterpiece that men hate – (9/10)”
