2011's latest bomb

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Damien
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Postby Damien » Thu Jan 20, 2011 2:57 am

I think that, having won the Golden Globe and, I think, the Broadcast Critics, Murphy was considered the frontrunner. Of course, he was not well-liked in the industry long before Norbit, so many Norbit only re-inforced existing feelings. People do genuinely seem to like Natalie Portman -- she certainly has never exhibited the kind of arrogant, diva-esque behavior Murphy has been known for. The difference with Bullock, though, is that The Blind Side came AFTER All About Steve, so the movie she was nominated for obscured memories of the earlier piece of junk as opposed to the junk being what's freshest in the mind of voters. I think Portman still, as of today, has to be considered the front runner, but we'll see if things change.
"Y'know, that's one of the things I like about Mitt Romney. He's been consistent since he changed his mind." -- Christine O'Donnell

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Postby Big Magilla » Thu Jan 20, 2011 1:32 am

I thought the same thing, but Eddie Murphy wasn't the clear-cut front-runner that Portman seems to be at this point, and Sandra Bullock won last year despite All About Steve, so who knows if these things really have an impact.

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Postby Damien » Thu Jan 20, 2011 12:26 am

From the first time I saw the hideous trailer several weeks ago, I began wondering whether this film would be Natalie Portman's Norbit. A piece of crap that intrudes upon the Oscar voting period and convinces people they really don't want that film's star to have an Oscar.



Edited By Damien on 1295501401
"Y'know, that's one of the things I like about Mitt Romney. He's been consistent since he changed his mind." -- Christine O'Donnell

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Postby Big Magilla » Wed Jan 19, 2011 9:54 pm

Say what you will about Rex Reed, but no critic makes me laugh harder reading his reviews when he's all riled up. Here's the first four paragraphs of his latest:

January 18, 2011 | 8:49 p.m
Vitamin A for effort: Natalie Portman and Ashton Kutcher.

After a string of flops, the lovely, accomplished and underappreciated Natalie Portman achieved something of a career breakthrough in the pretentious horror flick Black Swan. Now, before the impact has worn off, and on the verge of an Oscar nomination, she crumbles like a mildewed crumpet. Short of breaking into the editing lab and destroying the negative, she should have done everything legally possible to stop the ill-timed release of a vulgar, stupid pile of junk called No Strings Attached. This movie could destroy everything.

Who deserves the blame for this worthless and unforgivable bore? Probably Ivan Reitman, the Canadian hack who lowered the bar for brain-dead comedy by directing trash like Meatballs, Kindergarten Cop and Cannibal Girls. He also produced such historic film classics as Trailer Park Boys, Dog Hotel, the Howard Stern horror Private Parts and the abominable Animal House. Do not confuse him with Jason Reitman, who made the refreshing Up in the Air. That's the son. So much for placing your future, at a crucial turning point in your career, in the hands of a pro. But wait. Ms. Portman is herself partly to blame. Nobody with an upwardly mobile career who is suddenly being taken seriously should co-star in a movie with Ashton Kutcher. She also executive-produced this mess. You can't trust anybody.

No Strings Attached peddles the preposterous idea that two people terrified of committed relationships can have a perfectly normal, happy and fulfilled life as "sex buddies." Emma (Portman) is a med-school student. Adam (Kutchner) is a struggling writer working as a glorified gofer on a noisy cookie-cutter TV rip-off of Glee. They met cute, 15 years earlier, on a one-night stand at summer camp, then hooked up again at a drunken college pajama party. By the time their paths cross at a food festival (the movie knocks itself unconscious trying to think up kooky reasons and places to have sex), he wakes up naked and hung over in the apartment she shares with two girls and a creepy, balding gay roommate who insists he's got menstrual pains. No wonder they're afraid of intimacy; everyone around them is a sex-crazed lunatic auditioning for a psychotherapist. Even Emma's mother, pointing to the creep snoring in the back seat of her sedan, says, "He's a remarkable lover." [Pause.] "That's why they call him Bones."

Meanwhile, Adam is stuck with a moronic, faded TV star father (Kevin Kline) who's now shacked up with his own son's bimbo girlfriend and festering in a hospital bed after an overdose of vodka, 7-Up and purple cough syrup. Mr. Kline once starred in Mr. Reitman's vastly superior film Dave, so this must be the director's way of paying him back. At one point, he dances and prances his way through a birthday party singing "I'm so happy ... to be your pappy!" The criminal waste of a first-rate talent in 10th-rate material is so embarrassing you want to recommend a good prosecuting attorney.


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