I'm not saying she doesn't earn it, but when my wife falls asleep moments after we put the kids to bed, let's just say it's...disappointing. She'll sometimes sleepily say something to the effect of, no, no...I can make it...and I just nod along, like I don't know exactly how this story ends. Maybe one minute after her pledge, she's basically dead to the world.
I could do just about anything (aw jeez, not that) and she wouldn't even remotely come back to life. She's just frozen in place, and I'm left wondering, now what the f--k am I going to do? You know, other than sulk for the next day and a half...
Anyway, I've figured out a solution. And it's a good one. When she grabs a blanket, I grab my keys.
|No fair, man. I want to die next.|
Look, some of you a-holes might know that I don't give a damn about the quality of films I'll see, but now that I've got a MoviePass, I don't give a damn, shit or f--k. Ten bucks a month? I'll take one ticket to...whatever the f--k you got. Which, combined with my inanimate ladyfriend, is exactly how I ended up at an opening night showing of Flatliners. Not only did the movie suck an entire bag of dicks, but it also sucked the life out of me. I was good for the first hour-plus, then my neck could no longer support my skull.
A remake/reboot/regurgitation of the 1990 Joel Schumacher flick, this updated version fails in just about every way imaginable. It's incredibly bland, entirely nonsensical, and the its biggest sin...it's not even remotely scary. Oh, and it's rated PG-13. No tits. No asses. Nothing. The only thing that gets stiff...is the dialogue.
Apparently, med school is hard and the teachers are super mean and all anyone's got time to do is study (and have sex...offscreen). Things are like, so difficult and demanding, it takes like, an extra mysterious invite to get a bunch of these Doogie Howser bitches to meet in a vacated classroom in the bowels of an all-glass hospital in the middle of the night. Seems Dr. Juno is hard at work on studying the brain...of dead people. Now she just needs a few not very good almost-doctors to assist her in this hush-hush study group. But instead of highlighters and cocaine, all you need to bring is your unsteady hands and a desire to go to prison. See, instead of do no harm, these kids are planning on killing this chick...waiting a minute (or nine) and then bringing her back. I mean, what could go possibly go wrong?
Initially, not much, as killing yourself is like, the best shit ever. When you come to, you're basically Neo from the Matrix, but instead of flying around to Rage Against the Machine, you simply remember...everything. And you want to get drunk and f--k in a giant home restoration party. So, like I said, just like Neo.
Anyway, it's not all good news, as apparently any bad shit you've done along the way (and tried to forget) is also front-and-center in this new version of your brain. That kid sister of yours that died in the most ridiculous car-crash ever? She's coming back. That chick you knocked up and had get an abortion? Well, that unborn baby needs a bottle. And, I shit you not, that guy who got stung by a jellyfish and you f--king killed in the hospital? Uh, yeah...it ain't Dory he's finding. It's you, motherf--ker. Better start making whale noises while you can.
|Even with the worst haircut, Luna plays the best dude.|
Obviously, this movie is supposed to be terrible, but it should have been the good kind of terrible. Instead, it's almost offensive in how little regard it had for the bad-movie rules. It's way too serious, it kills off the one character who seemed to matter (and no one ELSE!), and the scary shit doesn't make any sense. Are we supposed to believe that the memory of a past failure can come back and not only scare you...but actually hurt you? To death? Like, I'm deathly afraid of this kid that pissed all over the McDonald's Playplace when I was little, but if I die for four minutes...this f--ker can push me down some piss-soaked stairs? How's that make any sense? And why would accidental deaths be so mad at you? What dicks.
Speaking of irrational dicks, here are the Yays and Boos. In full disclosure, I started nodding off near the end and basically have no f--king clue how it all ultimately came together. Like, my eyes were open for the last scene, but my brain had long since ceased functioning. Hopefully I wasn't snoring or anything, or as my wife often chastises me, breathing too loudly. Yes, friends. When asleep, my breathing is annoying. Somebody kill me, please. I want to go for...all the minutes. Or is that too many?
|I'm not a med student or anything...but...|
I'd think those monitor things should go directly over her heart.
No, no. I can put them on myself.
- Okay, even though I hated just about everyone in this movie, it was kinda good seeing Ellen Page again. Felt like it'd been awhile...
- Even though it ain't scary, there's a couple of decent creepy scenes, that may have moved the needle a little bit. The whole shower sequence was a standout...even if it's been done before.
- The one sex scene (that I remember) was uh...delightfully awkward. Like, fine, tell your mom that gave up everything so you could go to med school you're moving out...but uh, maybe wait until there isn't a dick inside of you to do so? Or is that just me?
- So, it seems like dying and coming back is basically one way to instantly get laid. Interesting, interesting. Um...is there like a place I can register for this?
- Man, her dead sister is pretty f--king pushy, you know?
- And finally, and I don't care who knows it, I f--king love MoviePass. Like, you know when a new dad always talks about his kids? Or when you bring up that girl you like, even though the conversation has no place for it? That's me and MoviePass. I just carry on about it endlessly, not giving a f--k about it's relevance or who I'm talking to.
|If I see the guy who wrote this...|
...like that Bleeker kid, I'm gonna punch him in the wiener.
- Um, yeah. For med school students, none of these people strike me as all that intelligent.
- But attractive and multi-cultural? That action is...affirmative.
- Kiefer is back. And old. And I swear there's something wrong with his voice. Like, if he said excuse me, reached into his throat and pulled out an entire ham sandwich, it kind of would have explained everything.
- Yo, what's with the extra-rough testicular exam? I'm pretty sure even if you don't want to do it...you don't have to be a dick about someone's balls.
- Jamie is basically the worst. Not only is he kind of way too cool with everything, he's also a f--king idiot. Who sleeps on a boat.
- The way they explain brain parts to the audience made me wish I didn't have any.
- When you come back, make sure you have all the ingredients for bread. And running shoes. And a piano. You're going to have to trust me.
- That was the fakest hailstorm rave party I've ever seen. Yeah. I said fakest. And I said hailstorm rave party. You gotta deal with that shit.
- Oh God, the jellyfish thing is so f--king bad. Of all your life's regrets, you can't let go of the Jellyfish Guy? The f--k is this?
- But when you get over it and finally decide throw caution to the wind and bone that guy you've secretly love...you keep your bra on. Okay. You know what? The only thing flatlining is my pants.
- At one point, and I forget the context, someone in the film is singing or listening to If you're happy and you know it clap your hands. And this bitch behind me? Yeah. She clapped her f--king hands. Every. Single. Time.
- I don't know what this means, but I wrote: F--k You, Pineapple Guy. You f--king scared me. I'm just going to assume it belongs in the Boos.
- This line: I just got a message from her...and her phone's off...so I rushed down here! Huh?
- And finally, I f--king hate MoviePass. Can you imagine the level of bullshit I'm going to subject myself to (and @ramblingfilm and @lady_sati)? And the one other person that reads this shit? We're all officially f--ked. Well, not officially...but you know what I mean. That new Madea Halloween movie? Sold!
Is it wrong that I'm so quick to pull the trigger and make something of my night, or would it better if I just stayed home while my entire family is asleep? Like, imagine that. Just being alone in some dark room while everyone else is off in some dreamland, doing magical things in faraway places.
It's like reverse Flatliners. And I'm the one guy who didn't go under. But that doesn't make sense, you know? Because I'm the one waking up with haunting visions of past failures.
And ticket stubs from shitty movies.