Today FearlessVK (we totally call each other by our blog pseudonyms) and I sat and watched Aidan get his ass kicked by some crows and then try to kick the shit out of some Sunflower-farming family. The movie was full of loud gotcha! moments but I realized long before we made it out on the street to try and deconstruct — even barely — what the hell had just happened that The Messengers was going to be a movie I shouldn’t even bother trying to understand.
Here’s a bit of the review that ran in the San Francisco Chronicle (in honor of Fearless, who came to Memphis by way of SF):
This is a movie that features former “Sex and the City” hunk John Corbett looking more like David Crosby than you can possibly imagine and “The Practice” lawyer Dylan McDermott as a sunflower farmer. Both are subjected to humiliating attacks by flocks of angry crows.
If that sounds like fun, be warned that most of the rest of the film is extremely boring. It’s as if someone took the worst 54 minutes of “Places in the Heart” and spliced it with the worst half-hour of “The Grudge 2.” Hopefully, this is both the beginning and the end of the agricultural horror genre.
Exactly — agricultural horror. Ugh. Don’t sunflower farmers have enough to worry about without having to think about pitchfork-wielding David Crosby lookalikes who have an occasionally triggered love for domestic violence?
After the movie we ate at Sauces, a place so new I can’t even Google them to give you a link. Sauces is some restaurant whose schtick is to offer lots of yummy stuff that you can request be smothered in whatever kind of sauce you want if you don’t want the house recipe. Terrible music was giggled at. Flickr was gushed about. A perfectly good bed of romaine lettuce was soaked in purple dressing that must have been made entirely of sugar. Asparagus was thrown across the table. Accidentally.
you just THINK i threw that asparagus accidentally :P
i start with asparagus, and i build my way up to pelting my companions with entire ribeye steaks.
My wife dragged me there last night cause she wanted some mojitos. (and no, I was not the drunk, stupid guy wearing the nudie suit that you saw.)
I knew you were trying to intimidate me with flaccid vegetables. I KNEW it! Honestly, though, if you pelted me with a ribeye steak, it might be the best thing that ever happened to me. What decadence!
David, We must have just missed you. I’ll have to put the mojitos on the menu for next time. Erm, what’s a mojito again?