Luckily, along comes Leonardo “I Am Definitely Wearing Lipstick” DiCaprio, who is traveling to America with his friend Fabrizio (Human Olive Garden Commercial). Leonardo DiCaprio rescues her from suicide, and she repays him by letting her entire family treat him like human feces for the last few days of his life. Then they fall in love.
Leonardo shows up at fancy dinner even though he is a stinky poor and Kate Winslet’s mom hates him: “My mother looked at him like an insect—a dangerous insect that must be squashed quickly.” After dinner, Leonardo says, “Time for me to go row with the other slaves!” Again with the slave thing. PLEASE READ A BOOK.
In an act of defiance, Kate Winslet sneaks downstairs to party with the simple folk. And look who’s down there dancing a jig! “Aaaaaaaay! It’s-a me, Fabrizio!” Fabrizio treats everybody to all-you-can-eat breadsticks and then invents the Mafia. Can someone tell me why this movie wasn’t entirely about Fabrizio? At the very least, could I get a fan edit called Titanic 2: Fabrizio’s Quest? (It is a quest for lasagna.)
Next there’s a whole bunch of stuff that doesn’t involve Fabrizio at ALL, so I’m on strike. It’s the Celine Dion part (“I’m flying!”), the boob-sketching part, and the aforementioned banging part. All of it is incredibly awkward and boring. Then Theoden, King of Rohan, drives the boat into this big iceberg and the ocean starts coming inside the boat, where the people go.
Bill Paxton interrupts the old lady’s endless fucking story and is like, “BOAT SCIENCE. EXPOSITION. BOAT SCIENCE,” for a while. Nobody cares, Bill!
Kate Winslet and Leonardo DiCaprio run around the boat in circles for a long time holding hands. I think we’re supposed to admire Kate Winslet for having terrific moxie or something, but really all she does is yell about how no one can tell her what to do and then just does whatever Leonardo DiCaprio tells her to do. (Sometimes he tells her things like this: “You’re so stupid! Why did you do that? You’re so stupid, Rose!!!” and “SSSSSHHHHHHHHHHHHH.”)
Fabrizio shows up (FINALLY) to tell them that they’re fucked because all the lifeboats are gone: “The boats-a! They’re all-a gone!” “Where’s your life jacket, Fabrizio?” Leonardo asks. “Ees-a okay!” says Fabrizio. “I’ve-a got this-a beeg ravioli! Abbondanza!” Then he drowns (oops).
Fortunately for Kate Winslet, Leonardo DiCaprio turns out to be the world’s number-one expert in surviving ocean liner disasters—offering genius advice like, “We have to stay on the ship as long as possible! Come on!” Eventually, though, they end up in the ocean, where Kate Winslet sits on a board and cries. Leonardo makes one attempt to get on the board with her, but falls off, so he decides to just die instead. Kate Winslet is sad.
Finally, even though she knew Bill Paxton was searching for the necklace, and he patiently listened to her stupid story (it’s like she writes erotic fan fiction about herself), that old lady just goes and drops it into the ocean at the end!!! Like, seriously, old lady? First of all, you’re a dick. Second of all, that necklace belongs in a museum. Third of all, you’re a dick! I wish Bill Paxton would drop YOU into the ocean at the end.
The end.
RATING: 3/10 DVDs of The Fugitive.
Dead Man’s Pants
Ah, the holidays, when families (some families, possibly, maybe) gather ’round the hearth to enjoy the traditional Fudge Reinhold, the Peter Boyled Potatoes, the Tim Watermallen Salad, and watch Tim Allen’s The Santa Clause (may its celluloid never decay). It’s not the most important Christmas movie, nor the best Christmas movie, nor really a beloved Christmas movie, but it is technically a movie. And it’s the only movie that teaches us one of the lesser-known meanings of Christmas: that putting on a dead man’s pants constitutes a binding legal agreement to assume all his debts and obligations.
We open at some dumb corporate party for poseurs. Peter Boyle, soulless toy king, is honoring Midwest marketing and distribution team Scott Calvin and Susan Perry for their work shilling some sort of hideous chauvinist ice witch called, “Do It All for You Dolly.” Susan gets only a few words into her acceptance speech when Scott (Tim Allen) interrupts because he has no time for thanking people like a woman, he ONLY HAS TIME FOR PROFITS. After high-fiving Johnson from Sales for incessantly pressing his boner against his secretary, Tim Allen bails on the party and vrooms off into the night.
On his drive home, Tim Allen makes it clear that he does not give a fuck about holiday cheer. Eeeeew, a Christmas tree with a bear on it!?!? HORK. A children’s merry snowball fight? UGH, JUST EMBALM ME ALREADY. Fuck you, bell-ringing charity Santa! VROOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOM!
He’s late for his divorced dad weekend custody drop-off snide remark summit, but it’s NBD because he’s not really that into his dumb kid anyway. Exactly what Tim Allen’s character is into that makes him so single-mindedly disdainful of parenting, non-mute women, and holiday cheer is never revealed. This is a cinematic technique known as “not fucking bothering.” Tim Allen is hella mad at his ex-wife’s new husband, Neil (Judge Reinhold), for telling his kid, Charlie, that there’s no Santa Claus, even though there obviously isn’t. Judge
