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This week's first Movie I Have No Intention of Seeing:
Director Brian DePalma ("Bonfire of the Vanities") gives us this supposed homage to hard-boiled film noir, starring model/actress Rebecca Romijn-Stamos as a con woman drawn into trouble and Antonio Banderas as the paparrazo who is whisked into her world of intrigue and mystery. Blah, blah, blah.
The real mystery here is the supposed better halves of the delicious Ms. Romijn and hunky Mr. Banderas. She is married to whom? John Stamos, whose greatest accomplishments thus far are starring in the execrable "Full House" program and occasionally guesting on drums with the shattered husk that is now touring under the moniker "Beach Boys." Antonio's bride? Melanie Griffith. I shant expound on her shortcomings, lest I fill several internets with my feelings on the subject. Suffice to say, she starred in the aforementioned "Bonfire of the Vanities" and was one of many reasons for it's deserved drubbing at the hands of critics and audiences, alike.
Why is this? What are these very attractive Hollywood superstars thinking? This is nothing new- Ava Gardner was married to Mickey Rooney for a brief time! Mickey Rooney! Andy Hardy! The man with whom even Judy Garland wouldn't tryst, not even for a bottle of brandy and a handful of Seconal!
Listen, Hollywood beauties! Tarry no longer with your John Stamoses and Ric Okasecs! Move up the food chain and treat yourself to something you deserve!
That's right- Zonar! I will make it all better! We'll look oh-so-dashing at all of the big Hollywood premieres and parties. Plus, at no extra cost, I will gladly take over handling of your professional and financial matters! (Hopefully soon to be) Ms. Romijn-Stamos, simply e-mail for my phone number, and I'll be right over with a dozen roses, tin of oysters and my best attorney!
Oh, and the film looks like a big derivative piece of poop.
The next Movie I Have No Intention of Seeing:
Faithful readers may be surprised to learn that Zonar does not entirely despise rapper/actor/misogynist/homophobe Eminem. Certainly, I care not at all for the recordings he produces and calls music, but the man is boiling over with hatred for his fellow man and I can at least get behind that.
Why is it that these rappers have codenames like superheroes and wrestlers? Maybe the better question is: why DON'T humans in other genres of music do the same? Wouldn't you be more inclined to purchase an Englebert Humperdink album is he was calling himself "E. Hump"? Wouldn't teenage opera star Charlotte Church be better off billed as "L'il Screechy?" Pavarotti as "Chubby P?" Zamfir, Master of the Pan Flute as "Pan Master Z?" I could do this all day, but I shant.
Anyway, Eminem stars in this motion picture as an angry young man who has serious issues with his mother and lady love and finds hope in the music of the streets as a way to pull him above the station he was born into. In short, Eminem as Eminem. Ever so creative!
Either way, somehow Zonar will resist being whisked away by film magic to the glittery wonderland of Detroit so that a bleached bitter boyman can make everyone who was mean to him while he was growing up look like jerks. Clean out your closet on your own time.
In short: Would the real Slim Shady please stand up? Thank you. I'm not going to your movie.
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