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This week:
Fired up

Filthy says:
"It either needs boobs or good jokes and has neither!"

I didn't know that Fired Up was rated PG-13 until I got to the theater. I figured that horny guys at cheerleader camp in what billed as a raunchy comedy would be an automatic R-rating and a cavalcade of boobs. That's the only reason I wanted to see it. Knockers raining down, bouncing, jiggling, and swinging. A sea of nipples pointed skyward, some small, some large, some soft, some erect. A dip in an Olympic-sized pool of mammaries, with every backstroke caressing the goose-pimpled flesh of young women until exhaustion sets in and I was drowned and suffocated in warm flesh.

I don't think every movie must show women's breasts, although they are enhancers like black truffles or sea salt is to a fine meal. I think the only reason for a movie as crappy as Fired Up to exist is as a boob-delivery device. Without them, it's like opiate-free heroin or odorless mineral spirits. Without breasts, you're left with a terrible plot, lousy actors, shitty direction and unfunny jokes.

Yet, Fired Up, which thinks the oversized FU in its advertising is clever even though it's too pussified to say "fuck", shows no nipples, no boobs and nearly no interest in them. Nobody sneaks into the girls' showers, nobody's top gets blown off by the wind or accidentally caught on a cactus. No scene of young ladies sunning turns into a sweaty, slick erotic massage. There's a skinny-dipping scene but the girls swim in their underwear. That's about as lame as half the dicks at a VFW circle jerk.

Fired Up is a fucking disgrace. It's a travesty. Maybe it's a product of our complacency. Maybe it could have been stopped if we had the courage to stand up and say, "We won't see bad movies without tits." While in the theater, I was reminded of the Holocaust. When the Nazis came for the Jews, the gypsies said, "Well, at least it's not us," so they let the Jews get hauled away. When they came for the gypsies, the people with real jobs and homes shrugged with indifference. When it was the commies' and gays' turns, the straight capitalists looked away. When the stormtroopers started taking everyone else, it finally seemed like a good idea to fight back. It was too late, though.

Now it's happening in Hollywood. First, the grassfuckers stop making jokes at the expense of the handicapped. Then, drunkards are no longer funny; they're sad victims of a disease. Now, they're taking the perky nips and raunch out of teen sex comedies. But I don't hear anyone standing up and shouting, "This is an outrage! We want titties!" Well, other than me, and an asshole usher told me to sit down or I'd have to leave. What's next? Propaganda films? Pay It Forward 2? More Bette Midler weepies? When will we, as a society, fight back and say enough? Even if you don't care about seeing breasts, ladies and gentlemen, you need to stand up and join the fight now.

I hope it's not too late already. Because I absolutely love boobs.

In Fired Up, two macho high school jocks (Nicholas D'Agosto - 28 years old, and Eric Christian Olsen - 32 years old) decide they've had all the sex they're gonna get with the cute girls at their own school. They skip summer football training for cheerleader camp. They've never cheered before and have no interest in it, but they figure there will be loads of hot chicks itching to get the old Turducken treatment. The plan is to have loads of sex and then ditch the camp and all the girls.

Of course, these two cads get to camp and one falls in love with the only girl who doesn't fall for their shit. Falling for her changes him into a better person, but she discovers he came to camp just to get laid. When she learns his ulterior motives, she gets mad and sad, and he has to explain that, yes, he came to get laid, but he has changed and he'll prove it by cheering. Both guys discover they care about cheering and want their squad to win, after all. They will put in the hard work, and give the pep talks to make it happen. All the while, ladies' tops should fall off, but don't.

Fired Up is way worse than a shitty movie. All of the above happens, except the nudity. It's like non-alcohol beer, or like the raunchy teen sex comedy as rewritten by the people behind High School Musical or one of those super crappy Christian-themed movies like Fireproof. That is, movies that want to feel authentic but have so many fucking rules to follow that they end up fake and stiff. What the fuck? Why would anyone make this movie? Why would some guy named Freedom Jones write it?

The name Freedom Jones is for two kinds of people: mid-80s action heroes with mullets and Trans Ams, and pompous dicks. I'm pretty sure this dude is the latter. The movie's two jocks sound exactly alike: like a bad screenwriter who certain he's funny with no evidence to prove it. The dialogue is rapid-fire and loaded with puns and tired gags, sort of like a Wal-Mart version of the annoying speechifying in Juno. One of the protagonists is supposed to be smart, but I never figured out which because they both jabber without saying anything. The other, I guess, is just an asshole.

The movie's women are all about as dumb as concrete. They swoon for the assholes, only taking time out to act like bitches or take part in weak lesbian gags that go nowhere. Even the one girl who's supposed to be hard to get puts up a fight as pathetic as the Italians against the Ethiopians.

Beyond the predictable premise there is a slew of characters so obvious they can't possibly be funny. The cheer camp is run by a man with a hot wife who everyone assumes is gay, and who keeps putting his hands on naked boys. The jocks' roommates are both gay, one flamboyant and always making air snaps and talking sassy. The cute girl has a boyfriend who is such a douche that you have to figure she must be one too to like him. Of course, he gets his comeuppance. The one openly gay character is a condescending stereotype. He's so fucking flamboyant as to be harmlessly asexual, like a muppet or something. That's so you won't be scared of him the way you are supposed to be of the other gay content. Thee jokes in Fired Up take about as much effort to write as it does to shit after eating at Wendy's. And they aren't any funnier than when they appeared in Revenge of the Nerd twenty years ago.

Fired Up is terrible. It's just unbelievably bad, corny, tired and sad. It's like a dirty syringe: you know it's a bad idea, but the cravings are overpowering. Only, once you've plunged it into your vein, you learn it's filled with harmless saline solution. You get the hepatitis without the high. The shitty movie without the tits. One Finger for Fired Up.

Want to tell Filthy Something?



Betsy Sharkey of the Los Angeles Times

Confessions of a Shopaholic is "Like that perfect outfit... Fits your mood, fits you, you feel fabulous!"

Filthy's Reading
Warren Adler - Funny Boys
(it sucks)

Listening to
The Obits - One Cross Apiece


Mr. Toad's Wild Ride