Gentlemen Broncos: You know what's wrong with Gentlemen Broncos? Well, apart from the fact that it doesn't have enough Sam Rockwell. But then, most movies don't have enough Sam Rockwell, so maybe we'll just set that aside. For another time, like Sam Rockwell Appreciation Day. When we'll all get together and demand that Sam Rockwell be digitally edited into every movie ever, like that 30 Rock episode with Seinfeld only instead of Seinfeld Vision it'll be Rockwell Vision, and I'll get to see his butt (YES!) bobbing between Kim Basinger's legs forever, instead of Mickey Rourke's butt (ugh).
I'll even rename the movie. Nine and a Half Sam Rockwells. And we all know what I'm referring to, when I talk about the nine and a half. Right?
But I digress. About Sam Rockwell. When I should be talking about what's wrong with Gentlemen Broncos, which is namely this: the central conflict does not occur until about five hundred years into the film.
It's a film about an author stealing a kid's novel, but this event and its repercussions don't happen until I'm too bored and kind of angry to care. Because I mean, if most authors I know get pulled up on this sort of stuff - even the famous ones - why on earth did Jared Hess get away with it? Didn't some person from a screenwriting class he clearly didn't attend think to say: hey. Your trigger event is triggering after most of the movie has occurred. The rest of it is just boring waffly filler. It's not even funny!
Apart from when Sam Rockwell's being a space transvestite. Then it's funny. And orsum. But that's purely by virtue of Sam Godwell's presence.
Gah, the whole thing just made me actually believe I could have written it better. I'd have pulled the conflict forward, had them fighting for the rest of the film, then used the flashes of his novel to mirror the events going on in reality more closely. Or at least in a way that makes the whole thing moving or funny or just fookin's something, God.
As Napolean Dynamite would say. In his far superior film. What went wrong, Jared?
The Horde: Ugh, I'm bored. You're boring me, The Horde. How do you make a film about French gangsters being attacked by fast running zombies with super human strength boring? I don't know, but The Horde managed it. I fell asleep in the middle, and did not have terrible nightmares about the zombie apocalypse and Murdock rescuing me in his helicopter. That's how bad the Horde was.
The Office: The Office makes my life. That's all I have to say about that. No seriously, it does. It's a sad fact to admit, but I think there are moments in The Office that have made me more purely happy than most of the stuff in my actual life has. When Michael said he didn't make up what him and Holly had, I burst with this joy. So much love in me, for The Office.
Frasier: I have been re-watching every season, because I'm burnt out and just want to lie in my bed and have a sitcom wash over me like the tide. And Frasier fulfils this task nicely. Also, while I watch it I get to ogle Niles who is totally hot shut up he is God that deadpan stare, that mouth, his prissiness...I want him to wipe me down, the way he wipes down chairs. I want him to press my trousers when they have a single wrinkle in them, though I will be in the trousers as he does the pressing. I want him to sniff my hair and take me to the opera and talk to me about the antique footstool he just bought oh God...oh God why are my crushes so weird? And always obviously gay?
I can't write convincing erotic romance about men who are obviously gay falling for women.