The Gods Must Be Lazy

Saturday was quite a Ruth buzzi day for the Thigh Master. I broke away from my precious computer (trust me, click here for Two Towers Engrish subtitles) and took in a day of “culture”. Lettuce begin!

Troy

Before setting foot in the theater, I had (Native American) reservations about this movie. The preview didn’t eggzactly entice me and for some odd reason, the font they choose rubbed me the wrong way. But I’m a sucker for BBF (Big Budget Fiascos) and men with their shirts off, so I had to see it. So before I start rambling on and on about leather aprons and Brad Pitt’s a$$, lemme tell ya, this movie is worth a peep… unless you haven’t seen Mean Girls or any of the other Muss C Movies of course!

Here’s the basic story for you Iliad iliadiots: Orlando Bloom sweats Brendan Gleeson’s bootylicious peach of a wife, Helen, so dang much that he steals her and brings her back to Troy. Orlando’s bro, The Hulk, isn’t too pleased as he knows this will cause a war with the Gyro-loving community. Gleeson’s bro, the original Hannibal Lecter, uses this as a ploy to conquer the Trojans and their condom factory. But Dr. Lecter knows he’s going to need the big guns in order to win, so he pleads with Boromir to contact his hunky friend, Brad Pitt. Anywho, shit happens and the war begins. For the rest of the movie, its basically, “Hey, you killed my nephew, I’m going to kill your grandmother.” And so on and so forth. Along the way we keep getting to see Brad Pitt’s thighs and half of his ass. And when he’s fully clothed, looking like Michigan State’s mascot, he’s busy running around kicking glass and taking names. The one thing didn’t make much sense to me was how they would fight, then stop and say, “OK, lets stop and fight tomorrow.” What a bunch of wusseses!!

I saw this flick at one of the breastest theaters ever, the AMC Empire 25, located on the “new” 42nd Street. They have cushy seats and that fangled DLP (Digital Light Processingâ„¢) by Texas Instruments… this isn’t your daddy’s TI-80 folks!! Too bad the 1s and 0s (read: crappy CGI) that make up much of Troy didn’t translate well with the 1s and 0s of Texas Instruments’ supermachine. And I wasn’t aware of this, but I happened to attend a crowd participation screening. This old woman next to me kept saying how this girl loved Brad Pitt and how Brad Pitt loved this girl. Thanks, I couldn’t figure that one out meself Granny Smith and yer delicious apples!!

Here are some closing arguments on the flick:



– This is the perfect date movie: fighting for the lads, bare chested males for the broads!

– Peter O’Toole is really old.

– Brad Pitt should only play psychopaths ala 12 Monkeys and Kalifornia.

– CGI can never compensate for real people or real things. There’s a reason why Cecil B DeMille and his epics were DeBomb (see his Ten Commandments).

– Eric “The Hulk” Bana has superstar potential. I always sympathize with the characters he plays and I want to feel his chest (and no, I’m not gay. My sick devotion for LL should prove that).

– In the Line of Fire is still director Wolfgang Petersen’s breastest movie.

– Why did they cast some German bizatch to play Helen, when they should have picked Keira Knightley.

– Apparently it’s in Orlando Bloom’s contract that he must use a bow and arrow in every movie he’s in. Time to branch out Bloomy!!

– You can lead a wooden horse to the people of Troy, but you can’t force them to take it.

– Brian Cox (the OG Dr. Lecter) is so best! I’m glad he’s having a career renaissance, cause he f-in deserves it!

– Sean Bean should really change his name to Boromir.

– Saffron Burrows has one of the most unique faces around and is so going to be the 2nd Mrs. Thigh Master.

– I’m glad I live in the 21st Century cause back then blogging would have been so borrrrrrrrrrring. Speaking of borrrring…

Art Garf Funk Un-Cool

After that 2 and 3/4 hours of pure entertainment, it was time to hit up some of the city’s finest art museums. Went to check out the Whitney‘s annual Biennial (which means “an event that occurs every two years”). Whatever. Lemme tell ya, post-modern art blows llama cock. Just cause you put an empty pack of smokes and some liquor on a table doesn’t mean it’s art. Duchamp and the other dodo Dadists did that shizzle over 80 years ago and it wasn’t art then either… and this is not a pipe. And what was with all the crappy video installations? I think those “artists” were former directors who couldn’t get their work eggcepted by Sundance, so they make us suffer for it by including it in the exhibition. Borrrrrrrrrrring. The lone bright spot was this crazy-ass room, designed by assume vivid astro focus, that was covered from floor to ceiling with a hodgepodge of images and black-light stizzle. Good thing they had some umcredible Edward Hopper and Thomas Hart Benton pieces on the top floor, or I might have gone postal. After that, I needed a relief (more awful art puns!) from the post-modern hell my eyes took in and rolled on over the 2 year-old Austrian and German art museum, Neue Galerie.

Their collection isn’t jynormous, but what they do have is rather impressive. I don’t know of any other American museum that has more than five of Gustav Klimt‘s masterworks, but this place did! Kudos. After dat it was thyme to head on over to me final pit stop, the Solomon R. Guggenheim Museum. What a bad day for art, cause besides post-modern art, my least favorite art was on display here, minimalistic garbage. Look at me, I can paint a canvas completely white! Or wow, I’m so cool, I can hang up some light bulbs!!! At least the building itself is something to marvel at… althought the exterior could use a paintjob.

Lessons learned:

– BBF (Big Budget Fiascos) aren’t always awful.

– The Whitney Biennial gets wurst and wurst every year. What ever happened to artists who just painted people and objects?

– Frank Lloyd Wright was right.