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film / tv / politics / web / celeb


Gimme My Money Back, You B*tch (And Don't Forget My Black T-Shirt)

By Brian Prisco | Miscellaneous | January 26, 2011 |

By Brian Prisco | Miscellaneous | January 26, 2011 |

As film critics, we often tear down without creating. We usually complain about how certain genres like horror and fantasy have gotten weaker. We complain and complain, but we never offer up solutions. So I’ve decided to run a column this week to cull suggestions of what you as a moderately rational filmgoing base are craving in your genre films. What would you like to see done on the big screen?

Oh, the Rom-Com. Like our future mates, it’s impossible to sync perfectly with what makes us swoon. For example, everyone around here seems to worship at the altar of Tilda Swinton. I think she’s a terrific actress, but y’all must be looking through a funhouse fucking mirror if you think she’s beautiful. I’d say she’s striking, as in when I see images of her, I feel like someone’s striking me in the face with a branding iron. But to each his or her own.

When I find romantic films I like, they tend not to be comedies. They aren’t dramas — I hate those poetic sharts of the alleged “romance” like pretty much anything Anthony Minghella ever made. But you’d be hard pressed to call them comedies. But is there a way to do comedy without sacrificing romance? Usually, the studio ones are like someone pulled a giant fucking slot machine handle and got male star du week, female star du week, and occupation all the kids want. WHIRRRRRR, and Channing Tatum with…Jennifer Lawrence….as….a struggling paparazzi. Great, give ‘em $30 million we’ll call it Worth A Thousand Words. Make it in Paris! Go!

Honestly, I so little trust my own judgment in the area I’d be hard pressed to come up with anything viable. I like stuff like Garden State, Juno, Lars and the Real Girl and The Freebie. When I tried to write a Rom-Com in grad school, I wrote a screenplay about two serial killers who fall in love. I’m not the fucking norm.

But what are we sick of? What has to go, besides the random ass couplings? No more meet cutes? No more unfathomable jobs? No more quirky best friend who’s fat so she’s alone?

I’m telling you right now, since this is the opportunity to do so, fuck you about the “fat guys can’t marry beautiful women.” If I mention the words “donut” and “lonely” and “fat” anywhere near the same sentence as “girl” or “woman” I get stacks of hatemail out the door. “How can you do that? How can you carry on the stereotype? I thought Pajiba was better than that?” And then you guys turn around and cut the legs out of any fucking love story where a fat guy finds love. Even when they made a series about two fat people who find love, you got pissed. God forbid anyone short or fat or bald find love. We’re meant to live under bridges and sully goats with our clubs. Well, fuck you. Fuck you very hard.

So what gets your fires stoking? Seal it with a kiss in the comments below.