Nov 26, 2012

I would like to give David Fincher

Credit for the obvious irony behind his truly crappy film, The Game.  By which, I mean that he, as a filmmaker, has spent a godawful amount of cash, hiring actors and technicians to produce a "game" for the audience to witness and (sort of, not really) participate in.  Much like the "game", an insanely extravagant wasteful in poor taste birthday present for Michael Douglas, in said film.

Really? What do you get for the man has everything?

Apparently, it is this awful film.  I was okay with the film for a while, until the guns starting shooting, and there were car chases.  Then, when I learned it was a con, I could not help but think how many dozens of films there are out there about the Long Con that are way way way better than this piece of shit.  Then the ending happened, and I was totally done.  What a joke.  What a complete waste of talent and money.  What a complete waste of two hours of my time.

Maybe the clown can explain it all to me.

What is it with Fincher? He seems to only make good films or absolute disasters.

The Wife asked me after it was over -- I had bought it for half price (Thank God!) on Criterion bluray -- who I should give the film to? But, then Renee had a much better idea:  We are keeping the bluray, and we are going to treat it as a Camp Artifact, and foist it on our friends when they come over for a dinner party, laughing at it throughout, and pointing out to everyone what a disgustingly awful film it is.

(The Wife and I are mean, hunh? We are so pissed off about losing two hours of our life to this joke of a movie that all of our friends have to suffer, too, apparently.)

Not recommended.  Do not see it.  Do not buy it.  But, if you are looking for a good larf, and a fantastic dinner, made by Chef Renee, come on over to Club Villas some evening, and we will treat you well.

Bring some wine.


No comments:

Post a Comment