I had meant to review Paris, je t’aime for today, but man, it bored me to tears. Eighteen vignettes in under two hours, and maybe three of four of them were actually worth the effort of watching. The rest were eye-blearying dull, sometimes incoherent experimental shorts — tantamount to picking up a terrible literary anthology because one of your favorite authors submitted a bad short story she pulled out of a drawer. So, despite the presence of directors Wes Craven, Alfonso Cuarón, the Coen Brothers, Alexander Payne, and Gus Van Sant, and such actors as Maggie Gyllenhaal, Steve Buscemi, Juliet Binoche, Elijah Wood, etc., I’m just going to heartily recommend that you not bother with it, unless you pick it up on DVD and can fast-forward through the majority of it.
Which brings me to Pucked, the latest in a series of National Lampoon’s straight-to-DVD features, all of which are no goddamn good. I mean, I know it’s going to suck. Anyone who bothers to read this review knows it’s going to suck. So, really, what better time than to bring back the real-time reviews after a six-week hiatus.
00:00: Awesome — Jon Bon Jovi gets first billing; does anybody remember Moonlight and Valentino? People thought Jon was going to be the next great crossover star. And then there was the embarrassing “Ally McBeal” stint. But Jesus, Jon — you’re a bazillionaire. You can still sell out an arena. Why would you do this? What’s in it for you, man? I think that bottle of vodka is still lodged in your head.
00:30: Third billing goes to David Faustino. Bud Bundy, bitches! Dude’s had a decent run of shit film since his “Married … with Childen” days, including my favorite: Killer Bud, which I only mention because he co-starred with Corin Nemec. Parker Lewis — hut hut! And they’re re-teaming for a film later this year, with Alan Thicke, called RoboDoc (“A Medical Comedy That’s Really Sick”). There’s saliva dribbling down my chin. Nope — that’s blood.
00:45: The credit sequence looks like something JibJab retched onto the screen.
01:48: The music is by Stewart Copeland. Y’all remember him, right? This is truly depressing — one of the dudes responsible for my college answering machine message (“Mother,” which I alternated with The Descendants’ “Wienershnitzel”) is now providing the score to a Jon Bon Jovi film. Twenty-five years ago, Stewart Copeland wouldn’t have pissed on Jon Bon Jovi’s lion mane if it was on fire. So let’s look at Copeland’s progression: The Police. Scoring Wall Street. Scoring Good Burger. And now this. Porn is the only logical next step.
02:00: Dear God. Within the first 20 seconds, a camel walks into a courthouse and flatulates. Paris, je t’aime, I miss you already.
02:17: Now, there is an assortment of farm animals in the courtroom, most of which are farting.
02:57: The janitor (Curtis “Booger” Armstrong) is trying to get to the bottom of this — Bud Bundy is explaining. “It’s a long story,” he says. Oh — we’re going into flashback territory.
04:02: Now, we’re back in time. Who knows how far? Jon Bon Jovi is an inventor or something. Man — dude’s hair is great. Ridiculous. Has anyone had a better life than this guy? Rock star. Teen heartthrob. Married to his high school sweetheart. Owns a Arena Football team. And on top of it all — that hair!
04:10: He’s invented some sort of boomerang baseball that he’s testing out on a golf course. There it goes. Now it’s coming back. Clank — hits a woman with a metal plate in her head. You hate to see that.
05:12: Jon Bon Jovi is now sitting over a table, despondent. He lives with his sister, Nora Dunne — ha! Remarkable resemblance. Jon Bon Jovi, it seems, is a failed lawyer turned dreamer. Living on a Prayer, I suppose. (“Doesn’t make a difference if we’re naked or not.”)
07:00: Jon is kvetching with Bud Bundy. Who would’ve ever figured these two starring in a film together? “I’m washed up, man … I’m running on empty. That pot of gold at the end of the rainbow is further away than ever.” Oh, wow - there are more clichés in this film than in one of Jon’s hits.
09:30: Jon puts on a tuxedo and heads to a cocktail party with Nora Dunne. Oh — he’s a waiter.
10:30: Love interest alert — I dunno who the girl is at the party, but clearly there’s a vibe going on between her and Jon. Oh here we go: Estella Warren, who most recently appeared in a Danny Trejo film — Taphephobia. Fun fact: Estella was a competitive synchronized swimmer from the ages of 7 to 17, and the Canadian national champion three years in a row. She was briefly semi-famous a few years back, after appearing in Planet of the Apes. Now she looks like a washed up Bon Jovi groupie.
10:42: Whoa! Whoa! Back the fuck up — Cary Elwes plays Estella’s boyfriend? He’s 109 kinds of nerdy — glasses halfway down his nose. Shitty hair. He’s the assistant D.A. and acts as though this is an important position. Clearly, the team of writers (there were five, including a guy named — no shit — Shakes Mutin) have no concept of the legal system — ADAs aren’t stuck-up, wealthy fancy-pantsers. Most have to work a second job waiting tables to make up for their lousy salaries, God bless them all.
11:25: Jon has dropped a tray of appetizers on a midget. The little person just punched Jon in the nards. Jon takes umbrage and throws him in the punch bowl. Classy stuff, folks. The makings of a fine Cary Grant-style screwball comedy.
13:39: Jon is now discussing his new idea with Bud Bundy — this one is golden, he says. Surefire. Are you ready for it? All right. Here goes: A professional hockey league … for women.
14:34: Everyone is of the opinion that a women’s hockey league only works if the women are topless. A brief fantasy sequence is brought in for demonstrative purposes — a bare-chested woman gets all Catholic Schoolgirls … are … Easy with the rink glass.
15:00: So, how’s he going to pay for this brilliant idea? Here we go: A department store sends him a pre-approved credit card offer. He’s overjoyed. He’s a 40-year-old man who just got his first credit card and thinks it’s the most amazing thing in the world —“Christmas in September,” he exclaims, a notion he demonstrates by buying himself a new car, a Christmas tree, and expensive gifts for the entire family. Dude — you totally need to see Maxed Out.
18:35: Having a preapproved credit card also gives Jon an audience with rich people. He pitches his Worldwide Women’s Hockey League (WWHL). They laugh at him. Man, I feel a migraine coming on.
19:38: Jon goes home and discovers a ton more pre-approved credit cards, all of which he accepts. And here we go: He’s going to finance the WWHL himself.
20:30: The very next day, he’s already bought a hockey rink.
21:48: A run-in with the synchronized swimmer — she’s cold to Jon, but does reveal that she broke up with her boyfriend. Shit — was that two-minute scene all we get of Cary Elwes, the rich man’s Bruce Campbell? Say it ain’t so.
22:16: So, a homeless man lives in the hockey rink. His name is Elvis. He makes wisecracks. Awesome.
22:15: Jon: “I got the coliseum on opening night.” Bud Bundy: “Holy shit! How did you swing that?” Jon: “They take credit cards.” What the fuck, Jon — you go from carrying a six-string on your back to starring in a film most people will watch simply for the brief flashes of topless women? Get on that steel horse and ride away. Find a sunset and drive yourself into it, man.
23:52: Some random investigator from some nonexistent company called, strangely enough, “Credit Card Central,” is giddy after discovering that Jon has 200 credit cards. “I’m going to keep an eye on you,” he says to nobody, as ’80s-style porn synth plays. Is that you, Stewart?
24:02: Here we go: The tryouts. Bad montage, with horrible, godawful, ear-piercing music. C’mon Jon — you couldn’t spare one of your lesser tracks? Your freakin’ solo album (the second one — not the Blaze of Glory soundtrack) is better than any of this shit. I’ve seen a million faces, and I’ve … betrayed them all!
26:39: Inevitable joke: “Sorry, bro, this tryout is for women only.” “I am a woman.” She looks like Large Marge, but she can apparently play hockey quite well. She’s destined for stardom.
28:57: Estelle comes to the rink to check it out — the sexual tension in unbearable. My God, it’s fierce. Thankfully, the hobo farting in the hot tub breaks it. Estelle is all like, “You used to be a great lawyer. You’ve changed.” And Jon is all like, “This is going to work.” Dinner plans are established. That chick totally gives love a bad name — and no, I will not let up on the lame Bon Jovi lyrics. It’s all I got here, folks. I got nothing else to work with.
30:47: Next scene — Jon and Estelle are bumping uglies under the covers. Trauma … trauma! Twelve-year-old hero, singer of “Lay Your Hands on Me,” is laying his hands on a not-very-hot blonde. There’s no one to save me, the damage is done.
33:16: And here we go — another scene featuring the girl’s locker room for the simple reason that is offers an opportunity to show women exposing their breasts — while wearing pads. Hockey pads! Jesus.
34:17: Bud Bundy is irate — he just figured out how Jon is financing his new business. “How come you bought 144 sports bras? We have 32 players. That’s 64 tits.” “They gave me half off if I bought them by the gross.”
37:00: That skeevy guy from Credit Card Central is still planning to take down Jon —omigod! The president of the company is the midget that Jon dunked in the punch bowl. Oh man — only 37 minutes into it, and there’s conflict! “This has become a personal matter,” he says. “String him up by the balls.”
38:10: Large Marge is threatening to quit now — her boyfriend cheated on her. Jon salvages the situation by setting Marge up with Bud Bundy, who offers this nugget of comedy: “No! No! Rent her a gorilla.”
40:10: Jon gives Bud the credit cards to take Large Marge out, and Bud learns that the cards no longer work — the little person has cancelled them all.
41:20: Established: Jon is broke. Ain’t no paramedic gonna stand this heart atta … oh, nevermind.
42:08: Bud is picking up Large Marge — a song called “Pimp Daddy,” is playing. Stewart — Tsk. Tsk. Tsk. Pimp Daddy? Somebody take this guy’s Grammy away from him.
43:30: Marge and Bud go to a BBQ restaurant. She burps , which suffices for character development. They go back to her place. He invites her in. She locks the door. “You’re not going anywhere,” she says. Large Marge disappears into the bathroom and returns in a night gown. She strips and exclaims: “Fuck or fight?” Bud faints. Jesus — I’ve seen better nude scenes in Kathy Bates films.
46:34: The next day at the rink, Jon asks Bud, “So, how was it last night?” to which he responds, “Well, after they took me to the hospital and took me off of oxygen, I went back to her place — best goddamn night of my life.” She was born to be his baby. Awwww.
48:00: It’s opening night already. Elvis, the homeless man, is the announcer. The place is sold out. The two teams come out in midriffs and ice skates before putting on their gear. Well, of course they do.
49:37: The game begins. Remember those bone-crushing football scenes in Any Given Sunday or the decent hockey scenes in The Miracle? Yeah — it’s nothing like that. Sad fact: If you had to rank top five hockey films, you’d have no choice really but to include The Mighty Ducks. There’s just nothing else out there. Mystery, Alaska, Slapshot, The Miracle, and … The Mighty Ducks.
51:14: The first fight begins. It looks like an entire team stacked against Large Marge. To break up the fight, the homeless man comes out and sings the national anthem. I can actually feel my brain cells dying off.
53:13: While the fight is ongoing, the police arrive. They’re arresting Jon for credit card fraud. Estelle walks off, delivering a sarcastic, “Mr. Dependable.” Jon is taken to the pokey.
56:17: Now, we’ve moved from a bad hockey film to a bad legal film — Jon is on trial. And after Nora Dunne does some convincing, Estelle becomes his attorney.
57:19: Awesome blossom! Cary Elwes is the prosecuting attorney. Seriously — you’ve got to see him — a sweaty guy with a perm and a deep voice. Here’s a pic. The Dread Pirate Roberts would kick this guy’s ass, 1) for looking like a dildo with a perm and 2) for appearing in this film.
58:40: Elwes calls only one witness — Jon Bon Jovi. Again — not to harp on the whole legal technicality bullshit, but this one is kind of big — the state can’t call the defendant as its witness. Fifth Amendment. Whatever — I don’t have a lot to hang my hat on here.
59:26: All right — that’s pretty funny. Elwes holds up a blank piece of paper, offers it as Exhibit A, and asks, “Isn’t this a complete listing of all your holdings and assets?”
62:01: The first part of the trial went bad — Jon refuses to settle and give up the league. He’s got the boogie woogie fever burning up his veins. You gotta stick to your guns, Jon. His girlfriend/lawyer quits, and Jon has decided to defend himself.
65:08: All right — Jon calls Bud Bundy to the stand. I don’t know what just happened, but I think that Jon has swung the case in his favor. In fact, I think that National Lampoon’s Pucked may actually be an indictment of the credit card industry. Suddenly, this movie just got interesting (no, it really didn’t).
68:36: Jon calls a little kid to the stand. Establishes the toddler has no job, no assets. But, bum bum bummm … he has a credit card! Zing. The prosecutor redirects and the toddler cries. “No further questions.”
70:27: Jon calls a dog to the stand. Elwes: “My God, your honor. He’s crossed the line.” The dog indicates that it has a credit card, too. “I strenuously object.” “On what grounds?” the judge asks. “On the grounds that the dog is not mentally capable of being a witness.” Jon: “Well, you should’ve thought of that before you gave him a credit card.” Snap!
72:12: Back in present time with Curtis “Booger” Armstrong — now we know why there was a camel and other farm animals in the court room. They all had credit cards! That’s hilarious. Oh my god — I, like, I can’t breathe. I’m hyperventilating. I think … I think … I need a respirator, ‘cause I’m running out of breath.
74:29: Jon is giving his closing now, claiming that he was induced, “hypnotized” into accepting all the credit card offers. “Sure some of my ideas were lousy, but as Americans, aren’t we entitled to lousy ideas?!” Amen to that, Jon. Jury nullification always preys on the jury’s patriotic zeal. Fact: A man has a God-given right to do stupid shit.
76:17: For reasons that make no sense to me, the attractive female hockey players are outside the courtroom fighting over the sexual services of the homeless man. A scrum breaks out. Curtis “Booger” Armstrong steps in a pail and pratfalls. Then Large Marge walks out, “Hey! He’s not guilty.” A celebration ensues, which mostly amounts to the female hockey players jumping up and down, thus giving their chests the requisite workout.
77:36: Here comes the big closing — Jon is thanking everyone, then saying, “I’m really sorry, but the league is going to have to be on hold for a while until I pay back my credit cards.” The homeless man pipes up, “Well, not necessarily.” I’ve paused it here to give myself time to make the obvious prediction: Clearly, he’s rich, and will likely become an investor to save the league. Unpause: Homeless man checks his shoe, pulls out a check, Elvis says, “This should cover the costs.” Jon asks, “Elvis, aren’t you a homeless guy or something?” Elvis: “Oh no — I own the rink. And the bank across the street. But I can’t sleep in the bank.” This is a helluva deus ex machina . It’s almost as inspired as Spider-Man 3.
Dustin Rowles is the publisher of Pajiba. He lives with his wife in Ithaca, New York. You may email him, or leave a comment below.
I almost laughed myself into an asthma attack. This was a fantastic review - but how dare you mention a classic like “Slapshot” in the same breath as this stinkburger.
Posted by: The Wanderer at May 8, 2007 3:00 PM
Awesome. Thanks for sitting through crap like this movie for giving us such great reviews.
Posted by: Gaby at May 8, 2007 3:06 PM
I’m tellin’ ya. THE STICKERS. Pajiba Mayhem is about it begin. Too bad it went straight to DVD, thus no posters to despoil with warnings.
Posted by: nexus 6 at May 8, 2007 3:15 PM
You must be one hell of a masochist. Christ.
Posted by: Brianne at May 8, 2007 3:18 PM
Sweet Jesus, this movie sounds awful. And Cary Elwes should be ashamed of himself. For God sakes, Cary, I even loved you in Twister! How can you do this shit?
But the review? Hilarious. I hope we get more of these in the future.
Posted by: Brie at May 8, 2007 3:26 PM
Dude, why couldn’t he call a dog as a witness. After all, I did tell you about the guy who called a donkey as a witness. And as for a dog having a credit card, need I remind you of one of the best episodes of “The Simpsons,” where a credit card is issued to one “Santos L. Halper?”
Posted by: Seth at May 8, 2007 3:28 PM
Posted by: Dagg at May 8, 2007 3:30 PM
Hahaha. Ahhh…what a great review. I am so glad that I don’t have to suffer through this drek and yet get all the laughs from it anyway.
I was living in Montreal when Estelle Warren was about to “hit it big” and on Maxim’s 100 Hottest list, or something like that. I remember thinking then that she just doesn’t do it for me. Her lips are just too big, and not in the hot, Angelina Jolie, kind of way. Funny that she’s even still around.
For shame, Cary. That hairstyle is not worthy of a man who was part of the men, the men in tights, TIGHT tights, let alone Dread Pirate Roberts. I think I threw up a little in my mouth when I saw that photo.
Posted by: JKo at May 8, 2007 3:39 PM
A little bit of info (from an attractive 20 something heterosexual girl who has been playing hockey most of her life - I swear on my skates): There already is a women’s professional national hockey league. Nevertheless, this movie sounds like a piece of shit. Good day.
Posted by: b at May 8, 2007 3:48 PM
May I humbly suggest a new Pajiba section devoted solely to real-time/straight-to-DVD reviews? They’re so awesomely bad.
Posted by: Jen at May 8, 2007 3:49 PM
Minor point: Mr. Jovi’s (Mr. Bon Jovi’s? Mr. Jon’s?) football team is an AFL team, not a CFL one. The AFL: more ACL tears, fewer rouges!
Posted by: bristlesage at May 8, 2007 4:26 PM
You have to hand it to Jon; not too many people out there are still trying to rock the Adam Curry ‘do. (Actually, it’s pretty much just Jon and some of his bandmates…).
(And I totally remember Moonlight & Valentino and that scary line about how Jon knew instinctively how to bend Elizabeth Perkins’ legs behind her or something.)
Posted by: Gabrielle at May 8, 2007 4:30 PM
what i want to know is if you look this pile of poo up on IMDB, why is Lock, Stock, and Two Smoking Barrels listed as a recommendation of another movie you might enjoy (along with the requisite hockey movies, the Mighty Ducks included)?
Posted by: kkg at May 8, 2007 4:30 PM
Not only did this review reduce me to thinly-veiled spasms of laughter at my dlesk, but then, to see the ad for “Credit Cards- Apply now” right above the Post a Comment section. Hee!!!
Posted by: go big red at May 8, 2007 4:50 PM
Loved this review. It had me laughing out loud, which i don’t usually do with most of the reviews. Keep up the real time stuff.
Posted by: Athena at May 8, 2007 4:56 PM
Jesus H. this movie sounds so bad I couldn’t even make it to the end of the review!
Posted by: protest at May 8, 2007 4:56 PM
In which Bees takes a moment to defend the awesomeness that is the Mighty Ducks Trilogy- then ducks.
Pre-pubescent Pacey = little girls growing up too fast.
Posted by: that bees chick at May 8, 2007 5:17 PM
Oh Jon, say it ain’t so…
Posted by: Alarmjaguar at May 8, 2007 5:31 PM
wait, so bruce campbell is the poor man’s cary elwes? pshh…way to disrespect The Chin, man. id take ash over the dread pirate roberts any day of the week.
Posted by: jordan at May 8, 2007 5:35 PM
I love Jon and I love Bon Jovi, but I couldn’t bring myself to watch this movie. Thanks for taking one for the team.
I don’t know why, but when you were listing hockey movies, I immediately thought of the incomparable ‘Youngblood’.
Posted by: jadeblue at May 8, 2007 5:36 PM
DAMNIT, WESTLEY! You gotta knock this shit off. I can only give you so many free passes - you can’t live off the “As You Wish” goodwill forever!
Posted by: Tammy at May 8, 2007 5:53 PM
The repeated reference to Large Marge had me crying with laughter. And that picture of Cary just made me cry.
Posted by: stardust savant at May 8, 2007 6:02 PM
Once again, I lavish the love on the Real-Time Review. I hope you never stop, even though it may shorten your lifespan…
Oh, and I think we can all just start referring to Jon Bon Jovi as BoTox Boy.
Posted by: Jerce at May 8, 2007 6:19 PM
Just so you know, Bon Jovi owns an arena football team, not a CFL team.
Posted by: Diablo at May 8, 2007 6:31 PM
It sounds like you made this up; I am finding it exceedingly difficult to believe that this is a real movie.
(Bristlesage, it’s actually Bongiovi. I was 12 or 13 when Slippery When Wet came out, and when you’re that obsessed, the trivia tends to stick. So, yeah. It would be Mr. Bongiovi.)
I here you on the trivia stickiness, juliagulia. You happen to remember when he gave away his childhood home (in Sayreville, New Jersey) on MTV in about, oh I dunno, 1987? It was kind of a dump, but I totally wanted to live there.— DR
Posted by: juliagulia at May 8, 2007 7:09 PM
Ah, man. I really wish I hadn’t clicked on that link of the Cary pic. So bad… He looks like my stepbrother did in the 80s—glasses, curls and all. I’m going to have to go watch Princess Bride tonight to try to forget that photo.
Posted by: Lainie at May 8, 2007 7:40 PM
I feel like I should write Cary Elwes a check if he needs money this badly.
Posted by: greer at May 8, 2007 7:56 PM
Is it only me, or does the big verdict announcement at the end have echoes of A Time To Kill?
I can’t believe you didn’t take a jab at Jon Bon Jovi’s other cinematic masterpiece (and, thankfully, the only work of his I’ve seen) - Vampires: Los Muertos. Bon Jovi hunting vampires with a freakin’ sword, people. BON JOVI WITH A FREAKIN’ SWORD.
She strips and exclaims: “Fuck or fight?”
I’m sorry, I had to laugh at that line. Once again, rape is only funny when a woman is doing it to a man, apparently.
Fact: A man has a God-given right to do stupid shit.
If we didn’t, we wouldn’t have crappy movies, and Pajiba wouldn’t exist in its current form. As it says in one of my favorite books, “Intelligence has its limitations. Stupidity never says no.”
Posted by: Vermillion at May 8, 2007 9:26 PM
…rape is only funny when a woman is doing it to a man, apparently.
Oh, no no no!
Rape is never a laughing matter.
(Unless you’re raping a clown.)
Posted by: Jerce at May 8, 2007 9:58 PM
It’s even funnier if said clown is gang raped in a hilariously small clown vehicle.
Posted by: BarbadoSlim at May 8, 2007 10:44 PM
Is it just me or were you talking shit about the Mighty Ducks in this review? That movie was badass in an early ’90s/being a kid sort of way. Kind of the same way I still like the Sandlot, even though I can barely stand to watch it now.
Posted by: The_Wakeful at May 8, 2007 11:21 PM
i agree with the Paris, je t’aime comment. my boyfriend asked me to make a top 5 of the films i liked better and i could only pick 4 : Sylvain Chomet’s Tour Eiffel (even though mimes freak me hell out of me), Alexander Payne’s 14e arrondissement (reminded me of when i fell in love with the city when i moved in Paris), Tom Tykwer’s Faubourg Saint-Denis (loved the editing) and well, i’m quite ashamed to admit that i liked Vincenzo Natali’s vampire nonsense (i could watch anything he’s ever made).
Posted by: kim at May 8, 2007 11:54 PM
A lot of people I know worked on this movie. Apparently Estella Warren is a real bitch and a whole lot of women in their 30s wanted to fuck Bon Jovi.
Posted by: Justin at May 9, 2007 12:55 AM
Ummm, are you serious about Paris Je t’aime? I can’t believe you’re really serious. I’m hoping that’s a joke… Paris Je t’aime was wonderful - romantic, funny and touching, although of course some vignettes were better than others, and perhaps at times it was a touch pretentious. I loved the brief insight into other people’s lives and the performances were exceptional. Although it often examined ordinary people and ordinary lives, I was always riveted, and I don’t have the longest concentration span in the world.
Although as I said, some were better than others, not one was “incoherent,” and I wouldn’t have labelled many “experimental” either. It was a film to be watched as a whole, and although you can appreciate the individuality of the direction and narratives in each short piece, I don’t think you were meant to individually dissect the vignettes - it was a meditation on love, human connections and place and identity, and a paean to the city of Paris.
There wasn’t one story after which I wasn’t left curious as to how it continued and what happened to the hopeful (and sometimes hapless) protagonists. Particularly at the end of the last short, I was so impressed by how this stereotypical American tourist, who appeared so insensitive and uncouth, gradually revealed her human beauty to herself and to the city, and of course to the viewer.
Of course everyone’s entitled to their own opinion, and by all means don’t like it, but please tell me you’re going to expound upon your reasoning, or at least give it say one half of the time and attention you lavished on SPIDERMAN 3, which, by the way, really WAS an unadulteratedly boring piece of shit.
Posted by: L2 at May 9, 2007 1:22 AM
For the next Diversion, may I suggest we Pajibites/Pajibees/Pajibavistes/Pajibabies list the films we want to see realtime reviews of…
Oh, and where can I order my stickers?
Posted by: cinekat at May 9, 2007 4:30 AM
I loved The Mighty Ducks trilogy almost 15 years ago when I first saw it but I had the excuse of being 9 at the time. Now I have no such excuse. I still watch it at least twice a year. I wanna be the 4th Bash Brother. Can I be the 4th Bash Brother? Please?
Posted by: Irina at May 9, 2007 4:33 AM
How much did he actually gt paid for this dump?
Posted by: Jean at May 9, 2007 5:03 AM
Thanks, juliagulia! I always think I know my trivia, but then there are these huge gaps in my “knowledge”. Usually about pop music. Maybe it’s the MTV I lacked as a child; I’ll be sure to sue my parents when I make Jeopardy! and miss those questions.
Posted by: bristlesage at May 9, 2007 9:56 AM
I told y’all back in the Kid Lit thread that Elwes was no Wesley.
Posted by: Ranylt at May 9, 2007 10:00 AM
I LOVE real-time reviews. I’m sure they’re a pain in the ass, but keep ‘em up.
Posted by: Whitney at May 9, 2007 10:00 AM
I know this movie is a pos but seriously, I laughed at the “No! No! Rent her a gorilla.” line. Perhaps I should just get in line for “Night at the Museum 2” now.
Posted by: Blackcapricorn at May 9, 2007 11:00 AM
Has anyone mentioned how much plastic surgery Bon Jovi’s had? All those 80’s hair rockers are worse than Victoria Principal when it comes to aging.
Did I already post about his plastic surgery? I can’t find it so I’m assuming I didn’t. Forgive me if I did.
Posted by: Andrew at May 9, 2007 11:18 AM
HAhahahahahahaha! I LOVE these real-time reviews of crappy straight-to-DVD movies! This one was classic. Man, you have my sympathies AND my respect—I know I couldn’t sit through this crap!
That said, when are you going to do a real-time review of Anna Nicole Smith’s last movie, “Illegal Aliens” that we’ve been waiting for? I bet that review would be HILARIOUS, although I’m not sure if that movie would even be survivable.
Posted by: AnnArrogance at May 9, 2007 8:25 PM
Hey, maybe he was just bored and thought it’d be fun.
There’s worse diversions, I’m sure. And for a few weeks, a film crew had work, a catering company had daily orders, car and truck drivers had a job, etc., etc., etc. And not once during those weeks was the Internet afflicted with photos of him partying sans underwear.
Waitaminute, I thought I was enumerating the *good* points about this lamentable hobby…
Dept. of Lost Opportunities: Copeland and Bon Jovi, neither singly nor together can’t rock a sound track?
Oh, how the mighty have fallen!
Posted by: bjs1109 at May 9, 2007 11:49 PM
I’m with jadeblue, Youngblood was a glaring omission from your hockey top 5. Rob Lowe in a mullet gets caught stealing a dirty book by a girl trying to book-smarten him up with some classic. Pubes are shaved by force. It rules.
Posted by: kx2 at May 10, 2007 3:29 PM
Cary Elwes as the poor man’s Bruce Campbell? Man Dustin, that is unfair to Bruce. At least he is consistently entertaining… those two don’t even belong in the same sentence. Cary Elwes cut off his foot with a SAW and cried like a sissy girl, but Bruce cut off his hand, replaced it with a chainSAW, and kicked some serious ass. That is the only time you could ever compare the two.
Posted by: Goldie at May 10, 2007 8:14 PM
You lost me at Stewart Copeland. It hurt me to my core and I could read no more. Pardon me whilst I wipe away my tears.
Posted by: wsapnin at May 11, 2007 9:43 AM
It pains me just to know this movie exists. And as I look up, I see that Larry the Cable Guy is guesting on The Late Late Show. What are the other signs of the Apocalypse?
Posted by: Debra G at May 12, 2007 2:06 AM
Real-Time Review of Pucked / Dustin Rowles
Film | May 9, 2007 | Comments ()