I watched Miami Vice today, because I’d seen every murder show at least twice and there was nothing on the Hitler Channel. Please understand that I’ve been popping NyQuil continuously all weekend long, so it’s not all that strange that nothing made any sense to me about that movie. But really: Nothing made any sense. I kept sort of zoning out and we were back in a club again with three people who knew how to dance and forty people who danced like me, which is to say, as if electrotrodes were attached to their privates and they were really embarrassed about it.
Speaking of privates: I love Michael Mann, but it occurred to me that his films are exactly like a penis. They’re hypermasculine, very sleek and they have absolutely no sense of humor.
Once I realized this, I enjoyed the movie immensely.
4 thoughts on “20-Second Review of a Movie You Don’t Care About”
the same realization has not improved my appreciation of penises themselves, sad to say.
Well, it’s true that there are lots of humorless dicks in the world, but let’s not over-generalize.
De-lurk worthy: at LAST! A good explanation as to why I love Mann’s films so. Would always rationalize: “they’re so stylish,” “they just LOOK good to me!” But now I know the real, true reason: I’m just a girl who loves dick. Phew. Thanks, Jennie!
A.: Any little thing I can do to help!