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You know that the bastards in Hollywood are all a bunch of fucking losers when a movie that mocks some of the happiest moments in my development is the best God-damned comedy of the year so far. Okay, so I'm not saying a shitload there, but it is slightly better than fucking average. My happiest moments? When I made love to the little guy. You know what I'm talking about, fellas: fucking onanism. The slight premise used to set up jokes in this comedy is that some nerd (Ben Stiller) rescues a beautiful girl's (Cameron Diaz - Va-va-voom) fucking retard brother from bullies. To show her appreciation, the little sexpot wants to take him to the prom. And we all know what happens after the dance: fucking and sucking. But, the asswipe gets his wiener stuck in his zipper on prom night and they never make it to the stupid dance. Twelve long-ass years on and Stiller is still the same God-damned nerd, but with nicer hair and clothes that won't be funny until twelve years from now. He's a writer (la-dee-fucking-da), which gives the film's directors an easy way for him to not have to be in a shit-ass office every day like some of us. The little shit is still in love, or shall we obsessed, with Diaz's Mary. Only problem is, he hasn't got the first fucking clue where she is. Stiller hires a sleazeball investigator played by Matt "Flamingo Kid" Dillon to get the lowdown poop on Diaz and report back to him. But, Dillon is such a fucking jerk that he falls in love with the still gorgeous and effervescent objet du lust. He reports back that she is a big fat slob that he'd never put his penis into. This cools off our hero for a little while. But, by the time Stiller realizes he's obsessed with the chick for more than looks, Dillon is packing his fucking bags and setting up shop in Miami, right alongside the little hottie. Stiller then discovers through his leper friend that Mary is still one fucking dish of dynamite pasta, so he hightails it to Miami to win her fucking heart. And guess what? He does! No shit. Of course, he must contend with a cadre of other nutsacks that want into Mary's short-shorts to diddle her clitoris. That's the set-up, ladies and gents. Like I said: slight, and certainly not enough to make a great movie, but it is loose enough for the Farelly Brothers, who directed and co-fucking-wrote the script, to hang some of that fart-in-your-face magic they do so well. Throughout the movie there are jokes that I thought were gonna make me piss my pants. the first ten minutes are as funny as it gets, because they got some golden making-fun-of-retard jokes in there, and then Stiller's balls get the zipper treatment. Okay, that scene started funny, but then the Farellys must have thought the mere mention of a scrotum was hilarious because it dragged on for what seemed like for-fucking-ever. That's one of the problems: every good joke in the flick was dragged out, like the Farellys were the lonely fucking kid at your school who would tell lots of jokes, and when someone laughed at one, he would extend it until you stopped laughing and shoved the asshole's head into the toilet. Other jokes that had me grabbing my dick with laughter were the retard clocking Stiller; Stiller getting a fish-hook through the cheek; Diaz unknowingly putting some man-jizz in her hair; a great scene where an overdosed dog is set on fire (yeah! take that, you fucking dog!); and the appearance at crucial heartbreaking times of a wandering minstrel played by beloved singer Jonathan Richman. Okay, so you had to be there to understand, but take my word for it, the scenes are pretty kick-ass. You might ask, with all that going for it why is "There's Something About Mary" just slightly better than average? Because I haven't gotten to what doesn't work yet, asshole. Look, I ain't got nothing against making fun of cripples, but it's got to be funny. The Farelly boys seem to think that merely breaking fucking taboos is funny enough. And, is being gay still that funny? Probably not to gay men, and not to me since about the third fucking grade. So, why are the Farellys so hellbent on thinking that being mistaken for a gay man is hilarious? Then there is the painfully expository dialog that fills in between gags. The characters don't talk like normal people, they talk like fucking joke set-up robots. Finally, and maybe I've always expected too much since seeing Bergman's ass-kicking classic "Fanny and Alexander," but the characters aren't given much growth potential. Maybe it's because they are too busy running around with spooge on their heads. Or, maybe the arrested development that gave the Farelly brothers the ideas for this shit prevents them from giving
It's a comedy, though, not a romantic fucking comedy. The romance is just a ploy to get chicks into the theaters, and for the Farellys to have a reason for making the movie in the first God-damn place. And, as a comedy, it works okay. I give it a Not-so-fucking-bad and a Half. |
