Somedays, like the great Lee Greenwood, you just can't help being proud to be an American. After all, we live in a nation that offers a near infinity of choices, and today, of course, if you were to head to your local Hell Octaplex, those choices would bespeak a true embarassment of riches. To wit -- should you drop twelve bucks to experience the opening day of either Sisterhood of the Travelling Pants 2 or Pineapple Express?
Personally, I couldn't possibly make such a decision, although it is perhaps worth noting that Stephen Holden, in today's New York Times, refers to the former as "the movie equivalent of being patted on the shoulder by an encouraging high school guidance counselor and assured that you are doing just fine." Which sounds...well, I'm not sure exactly what it sounds like, given that my own high school guidance counselor was a big fat guy with a wooden leg and an unsettling asthmatic wheeze. The word unpleasant does, however, come to mind.
As for Pineapple Express, it is of course what we in the films and flicks business refer to as "a stoner comedy" and though I'm not sure, I suspect that I've already experienced the ultimate that genre has to offer.
I refer, of course, to the 2000 Ashton Kutcher/Seann William Scott classic Dude, Where's My Car?. Or as we in the films and flicks business refer to it, "The Citizen Kane of Horny Amnesiac Pothead Movies."
I say "suspect," because, appropriately enough, although I know I actually saw DWMC? back in the day, I remember next to nothing about it, as if perhaps I had experienced it in a cannabis haze of my own. A Google search, however, revealed that I reviewed it for a reputable website...
TV-trained Freaks and Geeks auteur Danny Leiner's feature debut is less a movie than a series of randomly connected scenes that happen to fall next to each other. If nothing else, it proves that every generation gets the Cheech and Chong it deserves....
and you can read the rest here, although as you can see, my own interest seems to have dropped off radically after the intro. Incidentally, in the interest of full disclosure, I would like to go on record as saying that I myself have not smoked pot since a Foghat concert in 1974, so it's obvious the film anesthetized me all by itself. No small feat, that!
In any case, I think I'm staying home today, my admiration for PE star Seth Rogen notwithstanding. Frankly, I'm still sort of in mourning over the fact that the [once actually in development!] DWMC? sequel has, as of this writing, failed to materialize.
I refer, of course, to the would-have-been-a-classic Seriously Dude, Where's My Car?.
Hey -- my guidance counselor's peripatetic trousers just got a second shot. So what's the holdup, Hollywood?