Geeky Cinephile Musings…
I don't pontificate, I blather.

I SPY…a Melissa McCarthy film!!

NO MAJOR PLOT SPOILERS HERE, but if you’re someone that doesn’t want to know ANYTHING before you see a flick, then fine, navigate the fuck onnnnoutta here.

…but then again, why would you click on a film review if you were thus inclined anyway?? Jesus, you’re impossible.

I am doing the Master Cleanse right now, which I do every year, and all of this free time and general food frustration on my hands (could I please just be left alone to silently gnaw on a baby lamb’s leg…PLEASE?!!?) left me on a Saturday night thinking, “Shit.  I gotta get the fuck outta this HOUSE!!!”

Did I mention it also makes me a tad grouchy at first? I’m in day 3, people.  Right in the middle of full-blown sugar withdrawals.  Prepare to read the word “fuck.”  A lot.

Now, I have never been to a film alone.

Oh wait, I’ll pause a bit and just let that shit sink in for ya.  A film blogger.  A person who calls themselves a “Geeky Cinephile.”  Has NEVER been to a film alone.  Done shaking your head and judging my vulnerable confession? Yeah, me too.

So I bitch-slapped that lamentable fact last night and went to see the new Melissa McCarthy caper–SPY.  I’d been wanting to see this for no other initial reason than the cast – McCarthy (obviously), Jude Law, Jason Statham, Rose Byrne, Alison Janney…to name the big ones.  Oh, and Fifty Cent.  But I didn’t know he was in it, so that doesn’t count.  And he doesn’t count either.  Honestly, he was entirely lame, lame, lame–non-actors who have zero acting ability really should not make cameos.  You don’t have to be fucking Marlon Brando straight out the gate, but I’m counting on you to at least be able to deliver three, emotionally shallow lines without looking like you’re reading cue cards or being coached.

With the infuriatingly delectable smell of buttered popcorn wafting around me, along with the excited high-pitched giggles of teenage girls and the grunts and groans of hefty, middle-aged men and women easing their considerable bulk into a pleather seat, I sat down to break my film cherry.

…And ended up sitting there for thirty minutes, staring at a perfectly blank screen.

I guess something was wrong/broken/fucked up, because there were no previews, no shitty little animated red balls telling me to drink Coke, no NOTHING–just a fucking blank screen…for THIRTY MINUTES.  And NO POPCORN!!! Thank God for smartphones.  The film was supposed to start at 710.  At 742 the screen flickered.  We all gasped in hope.  The screen gave another weak flicker…and then we were off!!

Melissa McCarthy is, as you can well imagine, absolutely, drop-dead-from-laughing hilarious.  She has proven herself time and time again as being able to carry a film on her own, and she once again delivers the pizza piping hot with a side of saucy sausage…mmm…here.   Jude Law is predictably gorgeous, suave, and eats up the screen (as my husband loves to say…sounds better with a Scottish accent, though).  Rose Byrne is the goddamned QUEEN of playing a scathing, prissy, haughty, perfect-looking bitch that you somehow manage to like, and Jason Statham, lordy, lordy, turns out to be one of the comedic highlights of the film.  It is so much fun watching him parody his usual tough-guy characters, and although you’d probably think broad comedy would not come naturally to him, he really lets loose here, with awesome results.  Peter Serafinowicz also deserves some major applause here as the Italian(??) agent, Aldo.

But beyond these individual performances, what I love about McCarthy films is watching her play off her fellow actors.  The Heat comes to my mind–fucking comedic gold was made between Bullock and McCarthy; however, I feel that particular film falls short of what it had the potential to be.  But I am biased, because we all know that I have a major crush on Sandra Bullock.  Truly gifted improv actors working together is magical to behold, especially for someone like me, who has done improv and knows how incredibly fucking difficult it is.  Spy trucks it on home on this front–particularly the scenes featuring Janney, Statham, Serafinowicz, and Jaime, the gardener (you’ll see), all playing off of McCarthy’s self-deprecating genius.  The dialogue veritably snaps, crackles, and pops.

Pops…like popcorn…buttered popcorn…popping…

Whoops.

The only, and I mean, ONLY issue I have with this film is Jude Law’s choice to have an American accent.  He is in the first scene of the film, and instantly I was like, “Awww, no sexy Jude Law British Accent?!?! (Note the capitals? Yeah, it means that much to me.) Oh wait, I get it.  He’s an American CIA Agent! Okay, okay, I get it  He has to do that.”  But then, as if the filmmakers KNEW I’d be thinking this (they’re always trying to second guess me, those crazy kooks!) we almost instantly cut to Miranda Hart as McCarthy’s co-worker, practically oozing Devonshire out of her ears and giant teeth, and THEN we cut to Jason fucking Statham in his balls-out, London-geezer accent, and I’m going, “Um…so that WAS an individual choice?” And why are there so many goddamned Brits in the American CIA anyway?

Oh well, this is a question best left to bigger and better and more well fed brains than mine.  My ultimate advice is SEE THIS FILM if you wanna have a good belly laugh.

I’m off to drink my breakfast of lemon, molasses, and cayenne pepper.  Yum!!!

The force is strong with this one...

The force is strong with this one…

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