J and I go out to the movies relatively infrequently, so we try to make our selections count. Now, as you may or may not know, I have a crush on Paul Rudd. J is well aware of it, and he has a tiny man-crush on him as well, on account of The Awesome, so it’s cool. I could go on and on about how much I adore him, but why not let this
As you may have surmised, it was therefore a no-brainer that when the opportunity for a night out recently presented itself, J and I made a beeline to see I Love You, Man. I was excited. For the popcorn, and Slushee, yes, but also for the movie. In addition to Paul Rudd, I love a number of other people in the cast (Jason Segel, Rashida Jones, John Favreau), and was prepared for a rollicking good time. Which was a huge error on my part. Both the usage of the phrase "rollicking good time," and also, the high expectations.
I mean, I chuckled a few times, but overall? Bleh. Because here’s the thing: Paul Rudd is adorable (as always), but he’s truly at his best playing the douchebag. I mean, think about it: Clueless: Collegiate Granola Breath Douchebag. Anchorman: Sex Panther Douchebag. The 40 Year Old Virgin: Borderline Creepy Obsessed Ex-Boyfriend. Knocked Up: Smug, arch douchebag. Forgetting Sarah Marshall: That perma-high hotel employee on vacation that you want to punch in the face.
Do you see where I’m going with this?
And so, I was not really into this movie, where Paul’s character (Peter) is sort of a nebbishy, awkward guy. I did not enjoy seeing the usually smooth, confident Rudd stumble over his words, search for friends, and occasionally projectile vomit. It was disconcerting and incongruous, like seeing your biology teacher in the cereal aisle at the supermarket.
The same thing can be said for Jason Segel's character. He also played against type (i.e., the lovable oaf), with his character acting like a bona-fide crazy/aggressive person. It…wasn’t the best. Also, his teeth were icky, but now I’m just getting petty. (BUT NO I’M NOT! YOU HAVE TONS OF MONEY! INVEST IN SOME TEETH WHITENING GEL, MY GOD. )
Furthermore, perhaps the directors of the aforementioned movies were better at coaxing improvised performances from Rudd (and Segel), but here, it was PAINFULLY obvious when they were attempting to do so, and man, did they ever run some jokes into the ground. It was grating, rather than, you know, hilarious.
And please know, I adore most of the aforementioned movies. Clueless and Anchorman are a few of my all-time favorites, and Forgetting Sarah Marshall has an honest-to-God VAMPIRE MUSICAL, and--wait a minute...
(Oh. My. God. The wheels are turning…)
(Yes. Yes. MY GOD, I MUST DO IT.)
(TWILIGHT: THE MUSICAL!)
(I may have just had a psychotic break, but that doesn’t make my idea any less awesome.)
(Sample song: “Tomorrow: The Sparkle Song”)
The sun’ll come ouuuut,
And then my Edward will start to spaaaaarkle,
In the sunnnnnnn!
Just thinkin’ about
Makes me wish I could walk in a straight line,
I’m a kluuuuuutz!
When I’m stuck with a day that’s gray and lonelyyyyy,
I tell Edward to glug,
The sun’ll come out,
And Edward will sparkle,
And then murmurrrr.
“Renesme” is not a naaaaaame!
Where was I? Ah, yes. In short: I Love You, Man: not so great. The concept of a Twilight musical: definite greatness potential.
(Please don't make me pack! Quick! Give me the title for the next song in Twilight: The Musical! I shall write it now! Or reorganize my linen closet! ANYTHING BUT PACK.)