Hooker who can't afford hooks.

Did you ever play the video game Sega Bass Fishing? Or more importantly, the sequel Sega Marine Fishing? It's so good, you guys. So. Good. You throw the thing in the water, the fish bites it, you jerk the controller around, pound some buttons, and boom! You catch a fish. A…um, virtual fish.

And while maybe this isn’t something I should admit publicly (f--k it, I’ve admitted to much worse), I played the absolute shit out of these games. But as much time as I’ve spent with these, uh, fishing simulators…

…I never made it to the level where I got to f—k Diane Lane. For money.

As much as I would have preferred to just aggressively mash my genitals against this keyboard for a half an hour, instead, I’ve decided to attempt something much more painful – to produce a coherent review of Serenity, the French Bulldog of modern cinema.

Somehow existing when it absolutely should have died off years prior, I’m still utterly baffled top-to-bottom regarding this (not at all steamy) piece of science/pulp fiction. I was so shaken afterward, upon arriving home I curled up and went to sleep like the older brother in Hereditary [review]. I mean, Matthew McConaughhey’s career was just trying to get some fresh air, you know?

*major spoiler(s) to follow…sort of*

Ten seconds into Serenity, you can feel it in your soul that this will be an absolute shit-show. The film opens with a tight-shot of a teenager’s face, and the camera swooshes deep into his eye, seemingly entering his adolescent brain. While that alone is the reddest of red flags, I’m assuming the filmmakers felt like they owed us this from the outset, as each of the next one hundred and three minutes is even more f—king bananas than the one that preceded it. And the only possible thing that could possibly explain any of it? Is that some d-hole kid is imagining whatever is on screen, while, one can only assume, masturbating vigorously.

But more on that in a bit. The imagination part... not the, uh... anyway.



Baker Dill is your typical down-on-his-luck fisherman, basically a f--king loser, but somehow convincing the rest of us with his great tan and naked cliff jumping that he's living the dream, When Dill's not getting piss drunk at the local bar, he's obsessed with catching a giant f—king tuna he’s named Justice. Uh huh, he's quite literally, seeking Justice (m.brown places revolver down pants and pulls trigger). He’s got a fairly solid first-mate (I’m not even sure that’s a thing) in Duke (God, I love Djimon Hounsou), but without a big catch to turn into big bucks, ol' Dill’s forced to cut him loose.

Enter his old high-school girlfriend, Breathless Von Damsel (probably not the name of Anne Hathaway’s character), obviously tormented by her gangster, douchebag of the (and every) year candidate, Jason Clarke. She’s offering Dill the chance of the lifetime, 10 million dollars and unlimited access to a very private fishing hole that he hasn’t stuck his pole in for years. All Dill has to do is kill her extremely killable husband.

Good deal, right?

It's not Chun-Li versus Guile, but it's pretty f--king close.

Could be, but Dill ain’t interested. He just wants to catch that uncatchable fish. Yep, you read that right. His lovely ex-wife is standing in front of him (more leaning over a table, if I can be frank), asking that he kill the dude that’s obviously an abusive a-hole…and without the slightest bit of hesitation, he says no thanks/f—k off and die. Seems the penniless drunken fisherman has reeled in a f—king conscience along the way. Probably on the drive home from f--king Diane Lane for a roll of quarters. Makes sense, I suppose.

But what doesn't make sense, is the fact that I've written this much and am still going to trot out the Yays and Boos. I know I've said this before, but trust me, it infinitely applies here. Depending on your mood, what one could cheer or jeer, is entirely interchangeable.

It's pretty bad that she's paying him for sex. But worse?
I'm paying to watch.

Yaaaaaaaaaay!

• It was only me and one older woman in the theater. Just two a-holes, absolutely living the dream.
• Djimon Hounsou is always a Yay! Always. But, my man. You gotta stay away from boats. In Deep Rising, my guy took an axe to the head. In Amistad, dude was taken from his homeland as a slave. And here? Even worse. He has to deal with McConaughey. 
• Okay, so I'm pretty sure MM is swinging that reel around like it's his dick. And it's hysterical. I'm assuming if he actually caught the fish, he would have taken it aboard, ripped of his shirt, and just absolutely f--k the shit out of it. Then he's dismount, run both his hands through his hair, and punt that f--ker right back into the ocean.
• Dill, to Duke: I'll pay you. Duke: How? Smash Cut to Dill f--king Diane Lane, who unfortunately, doesn't play Duke's wife, which would have been awesome.
• Anne Hathaway, who I adore, is just beyond terrible in this movie...which is fantastic. She speaks and moves like someone who has just figured out massive diarrhea is imminent. One false step, one over-enunciated word, and she will literally shit herself to death.
• I'm sure he's a nice guy in like, society and stuff, but in almost every movie I've ever seen him in, Jason Clarke is the biggest f--king asshole ever. I want to punch him in the face as hard as I can, always. Like, even when I'm not thinking about him. But here? He actually dials up the rotten f--ker to eleven, and it was kind of...amazing? 
• No lie, Lane's pussy is everywhere in this movie. 
• There is one sex scene in this movie, and you guys, it has to be seen to be believed. MM turns Hathaway around and does her over a desk...lovingly? And then dismounts her like a Texan gorilla and goes back to being a f--king prick, all in the span of 9 seconds.
• MM runs out of a bar for absolutely no reason and I almost hit the floor I laughed so hard. If only the one other person in the theater had shouted the bees! The bees! Then it would have been absolutely perfect.
• And finally, when you get to the very end, when you discover what you probably should have known all along (to some extent, anyway), 99% of what you've just seen makes absolutely no f--king sense, and it's kind of incredible in a f--k you kind of way. Like, from a design standpoint, I HAVE SO MANY QUESTIONS.

It might not look it, but this scene is a comedic masterpiece.
(this kid can f--k off so hard)

Boooooo...

...ooooooo!

• Okay, outside of the old lady in front of me when I was running late, who pays cash for anything anymore? I'm not even sure registers have change in them anymore, just little notes in all the slots that say different versions of this person is an asshole.
• AVIRON pictures? Didn't exactly fill me with confidence, seeing that...
• Dude, Dill, chill the f--k out, man. You probably should probably wait more than 15 minutes into the trip before you violently swing a knife at your patrons. Fine, at least 10.
• I don't know who used to hold the title, but Lawyer Guy is hereby officially crowned the BIGGEST WTF CHARACTER in the history of cinema. Honestly, everything about this character utterly boggles the f--king mind. Every single time he appeared on screen, my eyes went blank and my head tilted back and forth like a dog. Huh? What? Me? What's happening?
• I f--king hate moments in movies where someone has to be shitty to another person because it's in their best interest. You can't just say something like, I can't pay you, sorry. Instead, Dill's like, Your dead wife is a whore. And do us all a favor and go f--k yourself. (but really he's trying to help)
• The only thing worse than Anne Hathaway in this movie, is the introduction to Anne Hathaway in this movie. Holy shit that was terrible.
• Do you like MM's ass? Or the silhouette of his junk? Then I have the movie for you. But you know what I couldn't help thinking about while seeing him floating around with his dick flapping about? Nevermind. 
• No shit, there's a scene where MM says, I'm gonna go take a shower, then jumps off a clip stark naked. What the f--k is this? A documentary?
• A few times the camera does some really dumb shit. No, I'm not talking about record these performances, but something even more awful.
• Hey look, Anne Hathaway is getting out of the shower...and immediately putting her robe on. Girl, we all saw Brokeback. And most dudes saw Havoc. What the f--k is this?
• Man, Consuela knows everything in this town. And shocking no one, motherf--king Consuela? She's a HOUSEKEEPER. Wait, what? I never would guessed that, except for the fact that's the most unoriginal (/racist) shit ever.
• Diane Lane? She likes to f--k. In her robe. Anne Hathaway? She'll love you long time. With her bra on. Matthew McConaughey? WALKS AROUND NAKED.
• And finally, I have promised you, me, just about anyone still willing to look me in the eye, that I will start watching better movies, yet here I go, watching King F--k of Bullshit Mountain. I wouldn't be lying if I said this was the only movie I could make (it was), but at this point, it's like even the universe knows what kind of asshole I am. What's this? You've got a snow day, but your own children don't? Seems like a perfect day for a matinee? But, uh, about that...

There's a part of me that hopes every single time you read one of these shitty reviews about these shitty movies, you think to yourself, this guy is an asshole, and I'm never ever watching this bullshit movie. But...

...I also hope, that every time you read one of these shitty reviews about these shitty movies, you think to yourself, I have to see this dumpster fire with my own eyes, and get back here immediately to pile on. But...

...this time? I want something entirely different. I want to play a game. With you. No, not that type of game, weirdo. This: