Righteous Kill

Greetings Cine-phanatics and friends!

Yes, I just made up a word. You probably just thought to yourself, "cine-phanatics... really? And we've come to expect such quality from you, MovieMan. You really let us down on that one. In fact, I am considering never reading your useless blog again in light of the current level of phonetic neglect." Well you know what, shut up! I know what you're thinking and I know what's best for you, so crimp it shut and read. Or suffer under the weight of your own eternal neglect. It's thoughts like that that lead me to call into question your very character! Read on.

I just watched Righteous Kill. Literally. Just watched it. Robert DeNiro. Al Pacino. What is it about these guys that makes you think, I gotta like this movie cause these guys are in it? I mean, they look old, tired and bored. Sure they're great actors and all. I mean, how could I even consider calling their skills into question after quality material like Meet the Fockers and whatever recent crap-fest Pacino did. You pick. For some unquantifiable reason these two grandpas are just fun to watch. Somehow they can deliver stimulating and authentic dialogue like
"We did good... didn't we?"
"Yeah, we did good."
"I wish you continued success..."
Really? And it's not until later that you realize, holy fuzzy poop on a popsicle stick! That dialogue was pasted from every other emotional death scene ever filmed ever in the history of ever, with a scoop, nay, a shovel-full of corny good will on top. Why didn't I realize it as I sat through it!?!?! The answer is simple. They tricked you into believing the movie, and since, upon it's ending you said to yourself, "that was all right, I would recommend that to my friends..." they know that you've committed your opinion and are 86% less likely to change it after the fact, like say, when you stand up from your couch and massage your numb left buttock and slowly start to realize you've been hornswoggled.
Bedazzled.
Short-sheeted.
Stumped.
Cornwallopped.
I made that last one up.
I think.
Tricked.

This movie isn't awesome. It also isn't awful. There are a lot of F-bombs. But that's because that's how real people talk, man, who are like, famous and trying not to look like it. You know who doesn't drop the Farfenugen bomb every sentence? Fake people. Just take it from Hollywood. After all, they tell us what to think about politics, why shouldn't they also dictate our moral standing? That's what I think.

At this time I just want to say a few things about Al Pacino's hair. Dang, man. Remember back in the 80's and 90's when girls would brush a big old heap of hair back, but leave these huge round bangs parted forward over their foreheads? I'm not kidding, that's what Pac's hair is like. I have this mental image of what happens between every take. Al sits down on the nearest bench/chair/underling and says, "HAIR!" and is then surrounded by a team of coiffur maintanance experts all dressed in matching overalls with promotional patches all over them. They go to work with blow dryers, hair spray, combs, pneumatic drills, new tires and avian mountain water until the pit chief shouts, "Go go go go GO!!!!" And they jump out of the way as Al races out of the pit lane and back to work, firing one of the underlings on the way. I'm pretty sure it happens exactly like that.

So watch this movie. Or don't. It does have an all right suprise at the end, the acting isn't horrible, and a famous rapper who's pretending to be an actor posing as a drug dealer does get shot and killed, so that's a plus. I wonder if that was a visual metaphor for his career?