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TRUMP'S TINY GENITALS ARE ENGORGED WITH PUS - WON'T SOMEONE SUCK IT TO SAVE HIS LIFE? Oh, hi Skrap.
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Donovan's What Lies Beneath Review

Submitted by ryandonovan at 2000-09-22 02:14:26 EDT
Rating: 2.0 on 2 ratings (2 reviews) (Review this item) (V)

DONOVAN’S WHAT LIES BENEATH REVIEW

Rating: 3 out of 5

Starring: Michelle Pfeiffer, Harrison Ford
Directed By: Robert Zemeckis
Written By: Clark Gregg, Sarah Kernochen

Way to go, Papa. It’s about time you made a good film. After fecal matter like Random Hearts, Six Days Seven Nights, The Devil’s Own, and Sabrina (all of which made me embarrassed to be your son), you needed a hit. However – and as your own flesh and blood, it pains me to say it – your role in What Lies Beneath was pretty worthless. In fact, you haven’t had a good role since Air Force One. And before that, it was The Fugitive. You’d better hope that the whip still cracks and the fedora still fits, because only Indy can save you now.

It’s true that I feel a certain closeness to Harrison Ford. I’m pulling for him because he went to high school with my mother. In fact, I believe that I am his illegitimate love-child. I believe this despite the denials by my mother, Mr. Ford’s press agents, the high school principal, the doctor who performed the blood test, and the judge that issued the restraining order. To me, he’s Papa.

Which is why I am so sad about his lackluster performance. Especially compared to Michelle Pfeiffer. She saved the movie. She was pretty convincing as the haunted paranoid wife, and was the catalyst in making this film believable. She’s old, but she’s still sexy. If you’ve got to have a 43-year-old wife, she ought to be it. And Robert Zemeckis, taking a break from filming Tom Hanks’ Castaway, did a fine job directing this piece. In the hands of a lesser director, it would have easily disintegrated into a very average and predictable thriller.

Whoa. I ought to slow down. It wasn’t THAT great. Some things were creative and fresh and scary, but other things were cringingly recycled. “Are they dead? Not dead? Will they suddenly spring to life and grab me if I walk past them, even if I walk very slowly?” Most of the scariness came from startling events, like… it’s quiet… very quiet… AND THEN THE PHONE RINGS!!! And Pfeiffer gets duped into many of the stereotypical pitfalls: Turn around! Don’t go in there! Why don’t you just fucking move out?!

In the movie, the house is haunted by the ghost of supermodel Amber Valletta, who is trying to kill Pfeiffer and my Papa. It also turns out that Valletta is a sex fiend, and she takes over Pfeiffer’s body and seduces Papa. At that point, the ghost became a little less scary. In fact, instead of trying to exorcise the ghost, I’d be inviting her over to the house more often. I’m really not sure why it’s a problem to have your middle-aged, melancholy, inhibited wife’s body manipulated by the spirit of an S&M-loving, rough-playing, sex-kitten supermodel. Better still, imagine if you could arrange to have your wife take over the body of the supermodel. So what if she’s dead? That’s when the black and white lines of necrophilia start to become very gray.

The ending of the film was a bit unsatisfying. One of the rumors about the movie was that the previews gave away the ending. Not true, from what I saw. The previews never showed the part where the lightening bolt killed Papa and Pfeiffer… Oh shit. Sorry.

Overall, so-so. Don’t see it in the theater unless you’re on a date and you’re promised oral sex afterwards. However, it wouldn’t be the worst rental, especially if you’re promised oral sex afterwards. But don’t take the word of a critic; take the word of Harrison Ford’s bastard son.

In a related story, the movie What Lies Beneath My Nutsack is now available on video and DVD wherever fine XXX films are sold.


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Submitted by Confuzitron at 2006-06-19 18:03:41 EDT (#)
Rating: 2

heh. 1100 hits. 2 reviews.

Submitted by chicagogirl at 2003-06-24 18:47:06 EDT (#)
Rating: 2


Marge: Name one of your child's friends.

Homer: Uh, let's see, Bart's friends ... Well, there's the fat kid
with the thing; uh, the little wiener whose always got his
hands in his pockets.

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