Wednesday, July 01, 2009
If you're like me (and I know that you are), you probably suffer from a case of Netflixism from time-to-time. You like the idea of having movies shipped to your house...and you're good at watching them weeks at a time, but there is always that lull. Maybe you get too busy. Or maybe, just maybe, you got a little too adventurous in what you chose to have delivered to your home.
The red envelope starts to haunt you. You don't want to watch anything on, by, or related to whatever unfortunately lies within it. I know. I know. You even recheck the envelope once in awhile to see if the movie living inside its red prison happened to change. Nope, still When Harry Met Sally. Shit.
Yes. I understand. It seemed like a good idea to put (fill in the title of that movie you have always wanted to see here) in your queueueueue three months ago, but then it arrived, didn't it?
Oh...Citizen Kane...yeah...I'll watch that next weekend.
The problem is, next weekend becomes two weeks, next month. Before you know it, that little red envelope, which is supposedly so full of guilt-free membership, becomes a fucking Albatross. Stupid Netflix with their stupid no late fees.
So, Netflixism -- the act of letting a movie sit on your coffee table for months on end, but you are too stubborn to return it without watching it first. Also see "idiot" and "we todd did."
My most recent bout with Nexflixism was with the movie Hancock. I think that movie moved from my coffee table to my kitchen counter 15.5 times. The .5 is for when I threw it on the floor and did a jig on top of it. (By the way, I don't know if you have ever looked up the word jig, but I just did because I was curious about what it would say...and man, I am glad I did: a rapid, lively, springy, irregular dance for one or more persons, usually in triple meter. Who knew?)
Anyway, this movie sucked...and it was the worst kind of sucking imaginable. Yes...it used teeth. Also, it didn't suck from beginning to the end. I have mentioned this before with movies...but I can appreciate (and sometimes enjoy) movies that just let you know they are going to suck from the first scene. Take any movie with Jessica Simpson in it for example. Right away, you know it isn't going to be be deep or meaningful. She is pretty much happy when she is in a movie that isn't released directly to DVD. Point being, you don't get invested in it. You just sit back, relax, put your hands behind your head, and let the suckfest begin!
But Hancock...oh no...Hancock didn't do this. Hancock decided it was going to be pretty good for about one hour. I was sitting there actually presently surprised...wondering why the movie got shit-canned by critics, and why I hadn't seen it yet. But like a lot of other Hollywoody type movies...they realize that the average American probably has about 1.5 hours of attention span...so once they hit that one-hour mark...they fall into the dreaded how-are-we-going-to-wrap-this-up-neatly-in-the-next-twenty-to-thirty-minutes game. I hate this. I absolutely hate this with a passion.
I think this is akin to a girl getting you all riled up, pants off, condom on...and then saying she's got to go because her husband is coming home. Lady...you should have told me you had a husband in the first place, and I wouldn't even be here right now...I would be home watching Jessica Simpson's Private Valentine instead!
So after Hancock ended tonight, I was initially mad at myself. Why did I waste my time? Why did I watch this crap?
But you know what...it really isn't me who is to blame. It is my Netflixism...and my hope that just once...one of these Hollywoody movies will finish what it starts. No husband. Full penetration. There really is no better way to summarize a good flick.
Alas, this may be impossible to find. So, I'm just going to go watch Embrace the Vampire again. Alyssa Milano sucks...but she sucks so good.