My cousin and I went to see The Interpreter last night and … eh. First of all, before I tell you what we thought of it, I should mention that you’re reading a half-assed movie review by these people:
See what I’m saying? Clearly, our critical skills are not the best thing about us. The best thing about us is that we are more than usually attractive, and also fun at parties. Although, to be fair, Rolfe beats me in both categories.
Anyway, The Interpreter. Can I ask you this? Does anyone in the world really think that Sean Penn is hot? Because if so, please explain. He is a wee little man with the weirdest hair I’ve ever seen, and his face looks like it was assembled with Mr. Potato Head parts. I’m sorry to be cruel, but I just don’t understand why anyone would want to have sex with Spicoli. Especially since we now know that he has no sense of humour at all.
The other half of the chemistry problem is Nicole Kidman, who is very pretty, but who cares? She never seems real to me. Although, I’m pleased to announce that it seems that’s she’s lightened up on the Botox. But now her lips look weird. I mentioned this to Rolfe at the very start of the movie.
“What’s wrong with her lips? It’s like there’s a little fold in the bottom one. See that? That wasn’t there before. What has she done?”
“It’s a lip implant, making a break for it.”
No wonder no one wants to sit near us in the theatre.
But leads aside, the major problem I had with the movie was that the music drove me nuts. Like, weird African flute music for no apparent reason, and then Paul Simon “Now we are in AF-RI-CA” yodeling and yelping at others. Meanwhile, for most of the movie, we’re in New York. So what’s up with the fluting and the yallering? Makes no sense to me.
Rolfe, who is much less shallow than I am, also pointed out that the parts that took place in Africa seemed offputting somehow — like a white person’s idea of Africa, rather than the place itself. “Here is a dusty road, with children on it. And they have guns! Also, there are bugs, because this is AF-RI-CA and they are poor here. Aren’t you lucky you live in America?”
4 thoughts on “Hubley and Hubley go see The Interpreter”
I haven’t seen the movie yet, but I did notice the lip enhancement/droop thing in my mom’s coppy of US magazine. She’s nearly 50 and her skin canna take the preasure captain! Or maybe she always had the lip thingy, but had photographers mask it in order to make her look more symetrical. Uncovering the lip baggage could be her attempt at looking more real to her audience, which from your point of view, would make her screen personality easier to idetify with, non? I love that picture of your and Rolf by the way, was that Megg’s wedding or ours?
Love that pic. It looks like you’re lusting after the wine in Rolf’s hand.
I staggered home drunk last night, apparently lost my keys, and slept in a car that wasn’t mine.
Okay, is it possible for you two to do a radio or cable access show in which you review movies? That’d be killer.