Friday, 16 April 2010

REVIEW: Dear John

Dear Nicholas ' I have no contemporaries' Sparks,

I am a coin. Trodden down into the dirt by a reality in which you're work is popular. My edges serrated and worn by you're endless monotone of empty schmaltz and dramatic outpourings of emotion that don't mean a damn because the characters you create are hollow shells, outwardly pretty and sculpted but inwardly as weak as you're cheap recycled plots. My once proud bronze glazing, which used to play surface to the dancing light of the sun and the moon (yeah), now knows only erosion of you're cynical bullshit that has infected cinema like it infected the shelves of bookstores.

I am cancer. I used to be a proud corrosive disease. I would infect whatever actor/actress would wanted to win an Oscar that year and they'd communicate my pain in such pure, truthful terms that only viewers of Silkwood would understand. I had dignity, I had respect. People heard my name and respected my awesome dramatic prowess because I was cancer. So endeth the conversation. But now, you and your shitty movies like Dear John come along and use me like a cheap, affordable to the working class whore. A third act prop-up you use to avoid having to come up with an actual ending. I am a joke mistold. Reduced to a puny oh, It totally forgot to tell you but this guy has cancer gimmick that takes away my poignancy and my ability to make grown my cry like the twenty-something girl who realizes she's never going to fuck Robert Pattinson. How could you do that to me. I'm totally going to fuck up you're colon.

I am Channing Tatum. I don't really have anything to hate on Nicholas Sparks for, because his shitty books turn into movies which make me money. And I like money. That's why I was in GI Joe. Apart from its satirical subtext and fearsome dramatic intensity. Obviously. I favor of an acting style of making every word I have to utter look like it causes me severe pain. And not in a cool, pensive Clint Eastwood way, in a my brain is literally a sandbox and I'm having to concentrate real hard to correctly pronounce the word ' Surf-Board'. But whatever. I make million of dollars at something I entirely suck at. Can you say the same thing? Didn't think so. I'll be on my jet-ski's.

I am Melodrama. I dont have much self-respect to begin worth, I scheme, hatch and openly manipulate a series of rundown emotional beats to make you cry about people that even I dont care about. Yet somehow you devalue even me, the taboo less, soulless douche of movie genres. Ill say I'm a little impressed. To play dialogue like ' I miss you so much it hurts' and ' he doesn't have a crush on me, he just doesn't know it yet.' straight as an arrow is a glorious thing. Stephanie Meyer has got nothing on you. Like the proverbial frenchman, I know when I am beaten.

I am Richard Jenkins. I was bored?

Yours to whom my love is eternal, anonymous film critic

Rating: 3/10

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