R.I.P.D.
With Wit, Reviewed By Kimmo Mustonenen
Our brains can be crap.
Yes, this happens.
We think the excited, only for the suck to rise.
Why can this be for the happening?
We crave good.
I will give anything more than ever the chances it (“good movie, please Odin” speaks my brain) deserves.
I am for wanting every movie that is watched to be the greatness that was “Shark Night 3D”.
The universe thinks I deserve a worsening. So the universe makes me be with “R.I.P.D.”
Lord.
A mess this is in my mind place. My brain crap is now confusion.
I have seen this movie!
Three times.
“Men Are Black,” “Men Are Black II,” and “Men Are Black III (in 3D!).”
Tommy Lee Jones (“Abraham Lincoln Laywer”) and Will Smith (“Legend I Am”) put their good foot right in the ass while kicking. New thoughts and stories made my face a happy smile place.
Now this crap. Ugh.
Plot? You know it. I mean, you really know it. I go on anyway.
Nick the Cop (Ryan Reynolds) is killed by Hayes (Kevin Bacon – here, one degree from toilet water). Nick goes to Dilbert Heaven – corporate Heaven would really be Hell, although having the hot, hot, hot Mary-Louise Parker (is she really almost 49? – her soul must have been rented to the devil) there gives it some hope – and he (Nick) gets to become “Death Cop – Deado Killer.”
Really.
He is paired with Tommy Lee Jo- No.
Shit! He is paired with Roy (Jeff Bridges) who talks with his mouth like he has had a stroke.
Or two.
They are disguised to be a Chinese and Hot Boob-ula Chick (Marisa Miller – so hot when on the page and not moving, not so hot when talking). We must never know they are just actors, acting badly.
They are after “Deados” – dead people who are escaping the movie to get to a real life. Like T.V.’s “Reaper”, only less good stuff.
Nick wants to be with his not dead wife again.
Did it happen? Did I care?
Did I drink so much Kossu that the last 25 minutes where placed in a brain blender to be remembered as “whoooosh”?
I don’t know. No. And yes.
This hot mess did not direct itself. No. First, the story board was published in 2001 (now are you nerds happy?). Then Robert Schwentke needed money and said “sure! I’ll poop one out for ya!”
Voila! “R.I.P.D.”
Why, Hollywood, why?
Must all summer flicks be regurgitated Franken-films that am made from the body parts of other movies. Or be a clone of previous clone movies?
As long as the dollars flow to box offices like Kossu flows to my liver nightly we will be seeing the Franken-films forever. Damn…
My thumbs are weird and confusing. They twitched when things went boom. They twitched when the Hot Boob-ula Chick would walk in the slo-mo.
They twitched when I ran out of the most delicious ice cream Bon Bons even chewed by a man (me).
So, for this “R.I.P.D.” I had epileptic thumbs. Pointing every direction but up.
Tell your eyes to wait for “The Conjuring” or “The Smurfs 2.” I kid about the Smurfs. I would rather be shot in the face and eaten by weasels.
I speak the truth.
Kimmo Mustonenen – (Kimmo On Kino) – Behind The Proscenium
P.S. “Breaking Bad” is about to come to an ending. My sadness is bulging for there will be no more shows to see to. My love for this T.V. showing is so great that I will name my fantasy hockey club “Team Heisenberg” this year. If this is beyond your understanding sign up with Netflix and watch the damn show. Yesterday.
You’re welcome.
