First off if you haven’t seen “The Dark Knight Rises” let me give you a spoiler alert: You’re an asshole for not having yet SEEN “The Dark Knight Rises”. However, you’re in luck because like most of my stories this one is more about MY movie going experience than it is about ruining YOUR enjoyment of said shitty movie, so here we go.
This past Saturday I met Cous’n Hemp’n and his hetero life-mate ‘Big Daddy’, a somewhat inappropriate nick name as it does little to prepare you for the reality of ‘Big Daddy’, at the Woodridge movie theater to see the 11:00PM showing of “The Dark Knight Rises”. I have a fondness for the Woodridge AMC because you could go there to see “The Avengers vs. Batman vs. James Bond” (Oh, it’ll happen) on opening night and there’s be 4 fucking people in the theater. I don’t know how this place stays in business or how much longer they CAN stay in business, but I don’t really give a fuck. I’m simply going to enjoy the fact that I can see first run films on OPENING night without having to hear your wailing bar accidents, your black people talk and/or scream “OH SNAP!” at every uninteresting plot point, or your fat white women scraping their fat sausage finger nails loudly across the bottom of a popcorn box as they scoop up the congealed butter and un-popped kernels and crunch them between their nacho stained teeth so loudly that airports call to complain about the noise.
I’ve written about Cous’n Hemp’n many times so you may be familiar with him, but let me writingly introduce you to…Big Daddy. I haven’t seen Big Daddy in many a year mostly because he’s one of those robust gentlemen who is so large that he can’t leave his apartment for fear of having to walk up two steps to reenter it. Now, Cous’n Hemp’n has prepared me somewhat for the largess of Big Daddy, but this is one of those instances where words do little to for-tell the coming of his immaculate bigness.
Cous’n Hemp’n has known Big Daddy since they were children. In fact, the Cuz worked for Big Daddy’s brother until he was recently promoted. After he was promoted, Cous’n Hemp’n hired Big Daddy’s son to work in the warehouse he now runs. It’s amazing to me the people that other people will fuck. I mean, if Big Daddy didn’t have a son to prove he’s been laid at some point in his life, I’d just assume he’s a virgin. But apparently some drunken blind woman let Big Daddy stick his filthy fat pethis inside of her and now that gene pool carries on…God Bless America!
From what I’ve been told, Big Daddy has had many jobs over the years; He’s been a bouncer, a truck driver, and a Race Car Driver, it doesn’t surprise me that all of his jobs have been sitting positions but I find the race car driver gig the most confusing; I mean, wouldn’t you want someone LIGHT driving a race car? You wouldn’t fly a square airplane. Plus, to see the man I have to think that they build the cars around him because this mother fucker ain’t sqeezin’ in no window Dukes of Hazzard style.
My cousin’s hobby of the past several years has been to go to Aruba, several times a year, with Big Daddy, where the two of them bang hookers for a weekend. Apparently going off continent is the only way for either of these men to get laid, but I guess if you’re paying a chick she HAS to put in the effort to find your cock. As disgusting as Cous’n Hemp’n is however, even he is taken aback when he tells me of Big Daddy’s penchant for eating Aruban hooker pussy. The first time he divulged this to me, he puked a little down the front of his shirt. He also told me that these women’s STD’s are so big that you can see them with the naked eye. One time Big Daddy came out of a hotel room with a white crab the size of a fingernail hanging from his tongue by one claw.
I was recalling that last story as I pulled into the movie theater parking lot this past Saturday night and wondering what a safe distance would be to stay away from Big Daddy. I pulled my car next to Cous’n Hemp’n’s truck and I noticed that his passenger door was open, so I walked over to say hi. When I got up to the car I was greeted with cold air blowing through the opened door. Now, this door wasn’t slightly ajar, it was open a good two inches and the air conditioning in the car must have been set to ‘morgue’ because my eyebrows and hair immediately frosted over when I came close, and it was a good 78 degrees outside. As it turned out, Big Daddy is SO fucking huge that my cousin had to drive to the theater with his passenger door open…ON A TRUCK, because it wouldn’t close. Not only that, but the a/c had to be jacked up as if he were trying to cool a giant panda with a fever.
I greeted them both and tried not to scream and run away like a Japanese man running from Godzilla. My cousin told me to wait there for him as he drove Big Daddy to the entrance of the theater. Now, you can sit there and talk about what an asshole I am all you want, but not only is everything I’m telling you in this story totally true…but this extremely fat fuck right here used to beat the shit out of me when I was a little kid, so fuck his fat ass.
Cous’n Hemp’n came back and we walked inside the theater. He and Big Daddy had already gotten me a ticket earlier in the evening, which was very generous of them, and we started to head to theater 17. Cous’n Hemp’n stopped off to take a leak and Big Daddy and I went on ahead. I walked behind Big Daddy as he lumbered in front of me like a giant stomping gleefully on a village. The back of his head looked like a swollen thumb as his body swayed from side to side like the Stay Puft Marshmellow man in “Ghostbusters”. Seriously people, he is THAT big. He looks like he’s about to burst out of his skin and whereas you and I have maybe a 1-2 inch horizontal sway when we walk, Big Daddy has a 7-12 inch one that’s not only amazing to watch as you fear he’ll tip over with every step, but it’s hauntingly hypnotizing as you can’t take your eyes off of it. As his body leans too far in one direction, his arms swing out in the other in what must be a Darwinian balancing act because Big Daddy is far too oafish to complete this task out of will power. It must be a ‘survival of the fattest’ reflex. Here’s a brief slide show to demonstrate what I saw as I walked down the long isle to theater 17:
Big Daddy is also one of those unfortunate people who has the intellect of, well…most Wal-Mart Americans. He laughs at every unfunny pun (I fucking HATE puns), he reasons out what’s happening on the screen to himself (At one point in the movie he said out loud to nobody in particular “Oh, she’s with THOSE guys”, a fact the rest of us gleaned 40 minutes ago), and he thinks that every preview for every dumb flick is going to be the best flick ever made.
Big Daddy walked down the closest isle to the theater entrance and sat mid way down. Well, ‘SAT’ is a subjective term, more like he let his legs go limp and fell backward into the seat. There was a large THUMP and a groan as the inanimate movie theater seat wondered why it had been sent to “Movie Theater Seat Hell.” There was a good thirty minutes before the show was set to start so I texted my girlfriend as we waited for Cous’n Hemp’n to return. “Who you texting? Your boyfriend? HoHO HO HO HO HA!” said Big Daddy in an oafish voice. “It is, didn’t Cous’n Hemp’n tell you? I’m all about the cock now.” I figured that if ANYTHING could fit under that tight sausage casing skin of his…that would. Ever notice how fat guys are always republican Christians for some reason? There was silence for a few moments as I ignored Big Daddy and continued texting my girlfriend. You could hear the gears trying to crank out a new insult in his head when he suddenly burst out “Well I better not see’s that phone on when the movies playing or I’ll punch you upside the fucking head.” Ah, you gotta love dumb guys…they almost always immediately turn to threats…so I moved down one seat. “Check and mate” I said as I continued texting, he wasn’t getting out of that seat without someone kicking it from behind.
Cous’n Hemp’n came in and sat 1 seat away from Big Daddy on the other side and the two of them homosexually discussed my homosexuality in a stunning bit of gay irony until the movie started. So, let’s bring up the curtain on what I saw as I sat 2 seats away from Big Daddy while he drank a 32oz butter.
First off can we please stop advertising TV shows before the movie starts? I remember last year movie theaters advertised the shit out the show “Missing” which they claimed was a ‘must see’ because it boasted Academy Award Winner Ashley Judd. Is she somehow related to Judd Nelson? Because that’s the only reason I’d want to see her in anything. As I predicted the show tanked after 6 episodes and was not renewed. THIS year I’m being inundated with a show called “Coma”. Well folks, TV has finally done it…a show about a person sleeping. My instinct is to give it 3 episodes, but based on Big Daddies more excited than usual breathing, it’ll probably be a hit.
Then came the previews; “Total Recall”…doesn’t look horrible, but that midget Russell Crowe guy just did another remake called “Fright Night” which may have been the worst movie I saw last year. Then there was “Man of Steel”, which will surely be a wholly pretentious look at Superman and is brought to you by the creators and editors of a bunch of movies you might have liked and actually starring and directed by people you’ve never heard of…meaning it’ll suck ass. I swear it said on the screen at one point “Edited by the guy who edited that expensive movie from last summer…you know the one…with the robots and the transforming!”
Then came the coup de gras…I wanted to kill Big Daddy for his frothing exuberance at what I was being shown on screen, but I figured the odds were in my favor that he’d choke on a milk dud before the movie was over so I didn’t bother; “Oz”. People, what’s my one film rule? What is my one truth that reaches into the heart of all movies? The ONE Hollywood fact that Hollywood just keeps ignoring? “There has never been a bad movie with a midget in it, and there’s never been a GOOD movie with a hot air balloon.” The preview for “Oz” STARTS with James Franco in a hot air balloon and I predict this one will tank as badly for Disney as I predicted “John Carter” would.
Finally the horrible previews ended, the lights went dim, the 4 other people in the theater shut the fuck up, and as the curtains opened all the way exposing the huge screen, I shut off my cell phone. Unfortunately there seemed to be a problem with the movie theater’s HVAC system. A noise cut through the silence and overpowered the Dolby Surround Sound as the feature started. It sounded like someone was sawing a cat in half. It was as if the theater itself were vibrating as the sound gripped all of us and shook the marrow in our bones; a deep throaty grumbling sound permeated the air and rattled our very souls…it was Big Daddy breathing. Jesus Christ, eat an apple you monster.
I’ll try to convey to you the disappointment I felt in Christopher Nolan’s third Batman outing, or as much of it as I could understand through Big Daddy’s awake snoring. My first reaction was “yawn”. It’s a Batman movie without Batman in it for the first 40 fucking minutes. This is the kind of shit that assholes pull when they remake a movie from 4 years ago (thank you spider man). This is an established character in a prominent franchise; do we really need to pull the “I’m retired” shit? I mean this is a character that’s been around since the 30’s. One of the first rules of comic books is that time kind of stands still for them. It felt as if Christian Bale went up to Nolan and said “I don’t feel like there’s enough of ME in these movies….I’d like to dialogue more as Bruce Wayne”, doesn’t that just SOUND like something some Hollywood asshole would say? I’m sure by Avengers 3 Robert Downey Jr. will be wearing a see through Iron Man suit because the red and yellow one doesn’t do justice to his abs.
Next with the fucking monologuing already. It felt like Nolan said “well, this is the last one so let’s everybody speech it up!” Catwoman, Bane, Commissioner Gordon, Alfred, Batman, Bruce Wayne…they all get these unbelievably long monologues throughout the movie that I could have done without. At the end of her FIRST one, Catwoman sais “There’s a storm coming” and I wish she was right so it could have knocked the power off in the movie theater. Just under 3 hours of this shit and the only good parts in the movie didn’t even make sense. Let me explain.
So, Bane wants to continue in Ras Al’Ghouls footsteps and destroy Gotham. Why all these assholes have a hard on for this city is beyond me, Gotham seems like every other boring asshole city in America. But fine, his goal is to take a clean energy fusion reactor that Wayne Enterprises has built and turn it into a hydrogen bomb. So, Bruce Wayne comes out of retirement after 8 years, tells Alfred to fuck off, gets his back broken by Bane, and thrown into a Russian prison. Great. Bane has the bomb now, all he has to do is blow up the city. No opposition. But no, for NO reason, he decides he’s gonna wait 5 months and turn Gotham into a police state, unleashing it’s criminals on it to, what? Throw rich people out of their apartments. Oh, and SURPRISE! 5 months is JUST the right amount of time to recover from a broken back. Batman comes back, Catwoman kills Bane, and they leave the movie open for a sequel that we know will never come. Thank you assholes. A more appropriate, and punny title for this movie would have been “Bat-Man’s Back!”
Then there was the rest; First and foremost, if you’re going to make the movie happen EIGHT fucking years after the last one…make your actors look like they’ve AGED appropriately in that time period. I don’t know if Nolan knows this…but it doesn’t take 8 years to grow a go-t so that’s not a appropriate meter for gauging the passage of time. Next, Bane wears that cute little mask over his mouth because some Russian Prisoners did some horrible unspeakable damage to that 4 square inch area of his face a long time ago. The pain is SO unraveling that he needs to wear that little mask to feed some sort of pain killer into his mouth. My question; Teeth, lips, tongue…if they ripped any of these things out, and they could be the ONLY things causing him so much pain…why does he have the diction of an opera announcer? Next, hasn’t Morgan Freeman ALREADY done a movie about a clean energy fusion reactor in which Keanu Reeves played Batman or something?
Look, Wal-Mart Americans and virginesque geeks across the country are gonna love this movie because it’s shiny and long. People will always confuse quantity with quality when it comes to film. Christopher Nolan figured out what a lot of directors haven’t, and that’s that the longer a movie is, the more confused the audience gets, and since Americans can’t admit they’re confused or don’t understand something, they’ll just say that they love it and keep flocking to the theater. It’s the same way with Big Daddy and food. He’ll just keep shoveling it into his mouth not giving a tinkers cuss what it tastes or what he looks like as long as some 18 year old Aruban hooker keeps snorkeling under his gunt for that cock of his…even when it’s Cous’n Hemp’n who’s dressing up like an Aruban hooker.
So all in all I give “The Dark Knight Rises” my NEW form of film judgment…a resounding “Big Daddies head down”