Richard gets to the gala and who’s up there at the podium pampering Provasic’s dong? Who just got appointed to the board of directors of Devlin MacGregor?? Wow, it’s only CHUCK! Richard’s “loyal” and “European” “best friend” who told Tommy Jones earlier that Richard is an innocent man. I guess he would know, if you know what I mean.
This bitch is literally like, “Provasic is remarkably effective and has no side effects whatsoever.” Excuse me??? Richard can’t take it and he recites the verse for which he became poet laureate of Chicago:
You almost got away with it, didn’t you? I know all about it, I can prove it!
You changed the samples,
didn’t you?
You switched the samples after Lenz
died!
Haha, Richard,
I’m sorry, I’m in the middle
of this speech.
After Lenz died, you were the only one who had the access.
You switched the samples
And the pathology report!
He falsified
his
research!
Did you kill Lenz too?
So Devlin MacGregor could give you
[witheringly] PROVASIC.
Chuck is like, “Heh-heh, uh, hey, come back to the greenroom with me, Ricardo, heh-heh-heh,” then as soon as they get back there he’s like, U CANNOT DEFEAT ME I HAVE THE POWER OF PROVASIC!!!!! They fight and Richard chases Chuck up to the roof. They fall through a skylight and end up in the hotel’s laundry dungeon. At this point, Tommy and Joey Pants show up (I shouldn’t have to tell you that Joey Pants is in this movie—you should always assume), and everyone is chasing one another around and around.
I was going to say that they don’t make movies like this anymore, where the last thirty minutes is just one continuous incredible chase, except they do, all the time, but they make it all CGI so it’s impossible to care about. Who cares about a drawing of a very fast exploding truck that a computer made? Not me! I care about Joey Pants getting bonked in his actual head with an actual steel beam on a zip line that is somehow an integral part of washing hotel sheets! Real cinema!
Tommy yells out to Richard to let him know that he figured it out about Chuck and how he sent the one-armed man to kill Richard to cover up the Provasic side effects so he could keep damaging people’s livers for money, but then the one-armed man accidentally killed Helen instead, which turned into a whole thing.
Chuck tries to shoot Tommy, but Richard saves him by clonking Chuck with a metal pipe. Finally, it’s over. Richard is happy because he didn’t kill his wife. Tommy unlocks Richard’s handcuffs in the police car and gives him an ice pack. Best friendship with Chuck over. Now Tommy is best friend.
“I thought you didn’t care.”
“I don’t. Hahahahaha.”
The Fugitive is the best movie because it has the best lines and is never scary, only interesting and exciting. All other movies should quit. Case closed. GAVEL.
RATING: 13/10 DVDs of The Fugitive.
Footnotes
1 If this joke is classist, my husband wrote it.
Shit, Actually
We open in a fucking airport. A fucking airport!!! Of course Love Actually, the apex of cynically vacant cash-grab sentimentality, would hang its BIG METAPHOR on no less than an empathy-stripped cathedral of turgid, racist bureaucracy. Of course. Hugh Grant’s voice pipes in to tell us how inspiring and magical the airport is, as though we’ve never been to one, because when you’re at the airport you can’t help but notice that “love actually IS all around.” THE FUCKING AIRPORT!!!!!
If that’s not the epitome of unexamined privilege—declaring that the airport is your favorite place—then I don’t know what is. Welcome to Love Actually.
Bill Nighy and his technicolor dream-blouse are in the studio recording a shitty, vapid Christmas song in hopes of squeezing a few dollars out of idiots who will pay for any tatty garbage as long as it has a celebrity’s name attached (way better metaphor for your movie than “the airport,” BTW!). Bill Nighy keeps ruining perfectly good takes so he can yell about how shitty his shitty Christmas song is because Bill Nighy doesn’t care about the valuable time of the hardworking professionals who are just trying to finish his bad record so they can get home to their families. Not Bill Nighy’s problem! He’s done heroin before!
Question: Why is Bill Nighy weirdly hovering over the stool like that? Can somebody please adjust Bill Nighy’s microphone so he doesn’t have to cop a weird squat? I should be able to watch a movie without my brain being forced to contemplate the current dilation of Bill Nighy’s butthole. Thx.
Text appears on the screen to alert us that it’s five weeks before Christmas. Why are you recording a Christmas single FIVE WEEKS BEFORE CHRISTMAS!?!? This movie is so fucking incompetently made that even the people doing their fake jobs inside the movie are incompetent.
Meanwhile, Colin Firth’s girlfriend is sick. NBD, right!? WRONG. Turns out, she isn’t sick with the flu—she’s sick with ColinFirth’sBrother’sDongitis! Colin Firth cannot deal, so he runs off to France all sulky to fucking type a novel on a fucking typewriter in a mansion. Siiiigh! “Alone ah-GAYN!”
This old Frenchwoman shows up at Château de Firth and is like, “Bonjour, I found you a lady. I’m literally giving you this lady.” Score! Free lady! The lady is named Aurelia, and she only speaks Portuguese, and so does her entire family, apparently, even though all of them live in France. It’s irritating.
Colin Firth falls in “love” with Aurelia at first sight, establishing Love Actually’s central moral lesson: the less a woman talks, the more lovable she is.
None of the women in this movie fucking talk! All of the men in this movie “win” a woman at the end! This goddamn movie.
Liam Neeson is bummed out because his wife just died. The grief-stricken Liam Neeson calls up Emma Thompson, who I guess is just some woman he knows (relationship NEVER EXPLAINED, and don’t argue with me that they
