Most idiotic movies are actually intelligent enough to give me cannon fodder for a bitter diatribe, whereas Charlie’s Angels is so mind-numbingly idiotic that I could only sit back, mouth open, and think “Oh the humanity.”
Yes. I saw my nice advance screening of Charlie’s Angels tonight, and yes, it was bad. Despite the fact that it’s November, and normally now is when the cinema world starts perking up, Charlie’s Angels may be the dumbest movie I’ve seen all this year. And if it’s not, it’s damn close. Some movies are unintentionally comedies; Charlie’s Angels is an unintentional horror film. It’s so horrific that only after your fear of yet another cheesy snippet of dialogue has passed can you utter such phrases of disbelief such as “Oh, come on.”
As much as I’d like to issue for a consonance of curses at Charlie’s Angels, I will forgo that pleasure and go own with my critical dutie. Even though Charlie’s Angels should be avoided like an Elvis impersonator in Vegas, I will fail to trust you to not heed my advice and see the movie for yourself, and so I will do my critical duty and give you a rundown of the plot.
Knox (Sam Rockwell) has been kidnapped. A computer geek CEO, he’s been kidnapped by none other than George McFly… I mean some anonymous psycho played by Crispin Glover. Left on the scene is Vivian Wood (Kelly Lynch), who decides to recruit Bosley (Bill Murray), and his Hohs, the Angels, to rescue him. The suspect: Roger Corwin (Tim Curry), Rival CEO.
After some unfunny comedy, a fight with McFly to the chorus of Prodigy’s “Smack My B*tch Up” ensues (one of the two funny recurring jokes in the film) the Angels just happen upon Knox, and Charlie’s Angels starts ripping scenes off more than it already had.
The rest of the movie is all stolen from somewhere, and I won’t even bother listing the wheres. Even if you take all of that away and go to entertainment value, Charlie’s Angels still buckles quicker than a bridge during an earthquake. It’s humor is contrived off of its action, and its action is unimpressive. Director McG uses start-stop, photogrammerty, and bullet time… but each time uses them so unimpressively that you just can’t stand it. In fact, the start-stop technique is used so damn badly that every time it happens, you feel like you’ve died, gone to hell, and that hell is being trapped in a Nokia commercial… and that doesn’t even go into the wonderful essay a semiotician could write about how the Angels’ constant leather suits are inherently sexist. As much as I’d like to stick around and insult this more (?and maybe I will write down that semiotic essay later, who knows?) the fact of the matter is that Charlie’s Angels isn’t worth it. I need sleep, and all the venom I could inject into this cinematic garbage isn’t worth the Yuppie Flu.
THANKS TO WWW.TRAILERVISION.COM for giving me this great review title.
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