Now Emily and I will watch our fair share of total crap, but for only the second time in my life, I walked out of a movie.

Yeah-- I know we’ve watched every bit of every crap film released, from Patch Adams and Glitter to From Justin to Kelly, all with the detached, hipster MST3K irony that shouted out “Hey look at us, we’re so cool, we love to watch bad mainstream movies because we know something funny that you don’t!”

Well, I think that we’re not going to do that for a while. You see, Emily and I saw Gigli yesterday. Not the whole thing mind you-- at least the first thirty minutes. That was long enough. When Doctor Forrester called a movie “Deep Hurting,” I now know what he meant.

I mean, who the hell thought this movie was a good idea? Here’s the set-up of this winner: Ben Affleck is a quasi-mobster named Gigli (rhymes with really, but is synonomous with ***censored***) who is also a ***censored***-up. His “Joisey” accent is about as dead-on as your grandfather’s Jack Benny impersonation, i.e. not good at all. So his stereotypical, Sopranos-ey boss gives him the job of kidnapping and watching a severly retarded man. To insure he won’t ***censored*** this one up, the Sopranos-ey mobster makes Gigli team-up with Jennifer Lopez, stretching her already fragile acting ability as-- shock me shock me shock me-- a gun-toting lesbian hit-man (hit-person?). You know in a movie when a person is kicked in the balls, the men in the audience shift in their seat, knowing full well the pain and uncomfortibility of being kicked in the testes-- that’s what follows the next thirty minutes-- one big, painful, uncomfotable slam in the nuts. Is yelling and punching a retarded guy in the face anyone’s idea of “romantic comedy”? Or how about just plain “comedy”? Nope, it’s just plain uncomfortable.

The final straw came when a doctor was shooting botox into Lainie Kazan’s be-thonged ***censored***. Yes, you read that right--- Lainie Kazan in a thong. We just couldn’t stay any longer. It wasn’t even a funny, make fun of kind of bad. It was boring bad. It was jaw-agape, tears in eyes, questioning the existence of God, boring bad. It really reminded me of Serving Sara (a movie I did sit all the way through). Well, Serving Sara if it was eaten up and ***censored*** out by Matthew Perry. I mean, how bad does a movie have to be to be bested by Serving Sara? That’s like comparing Weekend at Bernie’s 2 to National Lampoon’s Last Resort.

But you know, I bet when Ben and J. Lo were reading the script for this, they knew this would be different for them-- they told their agents “Bernie, this is sharp, it’s funny and most importantly, it’s dark and edgy! I have to get this role!” I’m sure that after the dreck of Bounce and Angel Eyes, a ***censored*** walk-on on “8 Simple Rules for Dating My Daughter” would be Cassavettes, but folks, Killing of a Chinese Bookie it’s not. Hell, it’s not even Husbands.

But all in all, the good thing was we didn’t have to pay for the movie. If we did, I would of personally gone to Hollywood and bayoneted Affleck, Lopez and especially writer/director Martin Brest, until they handed over my $8 and a written apology. 

The first one was groundbreaking; this one’s just ***censored***-aching. Oh, and frustrating, repetitious, obscenely padded and stone-cold boring.

Picking up where the original left off, Keanu Reeves, Carrie Anne-Moss and Laurence Fishburne fly around in their electrically charged ship, saving the world from evil quirks in the computer program others see as real life. But no sooner have we rejoined them when they dock in their hometown of Zion, where they stay for nearly half the movie, doing paperwork and going to council meetings—it’s as if George Lucas had been handed the creative reins. The Zion population celebrates the crew’s promised victory over the machines with an insanely gratuitous dance number that wouldn’t be out of place in “Salsa: The Movie” or “Lambada: The Forbidden Dance,” and it’s intercut with laughable “Matrix” porn.

Finally, the crew surfaces, putting us back on earth as we know it, but unfortunately takes a number of meetings in which they meet all sorts of new characters, each of whom delivers an insufferably lengthy speech about the rules of the matrix and whatnot. And they just go on and on and on about it, which might be forgivable if it actually *meant* something. But it doesn’t; it’s all techno-geek mumbo-jumbo bullshit that doesn’t make a lick of sense. Too numerous were the times I thought to myself, “Just what in the hell are they talking about?”

There’s a good fight scene between Keanu and dozens of Agent Smiths (Hugo Weaving), but it becomes a parody of itself by not knowing when to stop. There’s another good fight scene between Keanu and a few heavies on a weapons-laden staircase, followed by a 15-minute car chase that has no reason to be 15 minutes. And in between, there’s talk, more talk and scenes of an elderly Asian keymaker being chased around, because no Hollywood blockbuster of today is complete without your elderly Asian keymaker scene. He’s supposed to be some powerful person holding the secret to something or other, but again, the screenplay is so ***censored***-poor at explaining itself, the film may as well have been in the language of Farsi. And hey, kids, do you like shots where the action slows down for a few moments before returning to normal speed? Because these Wachowski brothers do it every time. Yes, the “bullet time” concept so novel in the first film is now a novelty.

It’s been said that “Reloaded” and this November’s “The Matrix Revolutions” are really one movie split in two. And I believe that. I also believe that if you removed all the meaningless dialogue that appeals to no one but those viewers wearing trenchcoats and sunglasses, you might have a movie worthy of being called a sequel to “The Matrix.” Not that the first one is some pedestal-placed masterpiece, but it’s sure looking like it next to this disappointing and disrespectful slab of crap.

Rod Lott writes about pop culture, annoying celebrities and life’s other absurdities every day at Hitch Daily and he also publishes the long-running Hitch:The Journal of Pop Culture Absurdity which is actually made out of paper.

Given that Joel Schumacher’s minimalist thriller was delayed by the real-life D.C. sniper saga last fall, one might expect “Phone Booth” to open with a “ripped from the headlines” intensity. But c’mon – this is Joel Schumacher, so “Phone Booth” opens instead with a sped-up montage of hip-hoppers and a quasi-Encyclopedia Britannica lesson on phone usage in the Big Apple. Thankfully, it soon gets better as ***censored*** publicist Colin Farrell answers a ringing pay phone in a Fifth Avenue booth and finds himself in the rifle sights of a sniper (voiced by Kiefer Sutherland), who says he’ll shoot him if he hangs up.

The rest of the film takes place at this booth, soon visited by a toy robot; several skanky, sassy hookers; a pimp with a baseball bat; Farrell’s wife and girlfriend (Radha Mitchell and Katie Holmes, respectively); police captain Forrest Whitaker; and a whole lotta cops. It all makes for a tense situation, but not INtense as it should be. In the hands of a real director, that would change; as it is, it’s bested in that department every week by Sutherland’s “24” TV series.

The main problem is that Farrell – as this character or an actor – is just not likeable. For most of the movie, I was rooting for Sutherland. (At a point early on, Farrell pauses to ogle a woman walking by him – “Nice,” he says – and one wonders if it was in the script.) The real star is the script, by genre filmmaker Larry Cohen ("It’s Alive,” “Q,” “God Told Me To"), providing a nice, novel twist on the hostage drama.

Don’t get *too* wrapped up in it, though; it’s only an hour and 15 minutes long.

Rod Lott writes about pop culture, annoying celebrities and life’s other absurdities every day at Hitch Daily and he also publishes the long-running Hitch:The Journal of Pop Culture Absurdity which is actually made out of paper.[/url]