HANCOCK

Caught HANCOCK at the dollar theater and I just want to say - -I will never see that dollar seventy-five again. You might think "what's a dollar seventy five, c'mon" but I assure you, I could've tipped a barista, bought a 100% pure apple drink, anything instead of wasting two hours of my life in a shoddy bucket seat.

I've never hated on Will Smith, myself, until now. I thought he was just okay in a few movies I'd seen. I, Robot was okay. Men In Black was perhaps a bit better than okay, and Will Smith fit that role in a pretty okay manner I'd say. All this glossification over the facts of the matter have come to an abrupt end. You might say my laisezz-faire bubble has been popped. You might even say my hatred for Will Smith has been freshly awakened at last. You'd be wrong - I don't hate the guy, but I sure loathe how he has come to be utilized in cinematic vehicles such as this.

Where to begin. What astonishes me is that there exists the committee out there to pump out this sort of dreck to us baby bird masses. And we gurgle it down like so many blind, featherless fetuses. I'm just going to say that for me to even swallow the premise of this movie - -that Will Smith is a bum with superpowers-- required most all of my own special superpower, that of the suspension of disbelief. At a certain point in the movie, something so unbelievable occurred, it was outright laughable, and the whole thing came collapsing down for me as I was unable to withhold such preposterous tonnage aloft. From that point on (which was probably the halfway point in the movie although it seemed interminably far into it) the plot (if you can call it that) just went off on a wildly incongruous series of increasingly idiotic spinoffs to the point that my jaw dropped in disbelief, I looked over at my girlfriend, and began paying more attention to her.

Of course, being the well-programmed Celluloid Dream Receptors that we are, our attentions would once again return to the big dumb screen ahead of us and to the unfathomable goings-on of the insipid characters hacked out by what has to be the most retarded (in terms of originality) committee of factory churned pulp parody bull crap the world has ever seen.

Allow me this moment to take this review to the next level, whilst I look up the credits for these particular offenders so that I might proclaim here loud and clearly on this public internet forum for you to Beware! Beware! of these notorious and somewhat misguided excuses for providing patently unpalatable movie pap:

Vincent Ngo and Vince Gilligan, step right up. You're on the Christ, That Ain't Right show. As the writers of this train wreck of a movie, you deserve the main booby prize, unless you can explain to us what happened, I'm of the mind that if I don't soften up a bit from our post dollar date rape affair, I am going to have no choice but go out of my way to avoid any movie with your names on it.

Peter Berg, come on down. As the Director of this what should have been deemed an unscreenable and offensive exercise in humorless malice, I award you Worse Than Uwe Boll [WTUB] status, and that means that every movie you ever made before this will go down permanently in our archives as Insufferably Pretentious and will retroactively be deemed Inherently Unwatchable regardless of how well its brainwashed target audience was tricked into receiving it back in the day.

Hmm, Chicago Hope... there's a show I'll never watch. "Very Bad Things", that was with Christian Slater, wasn't it? I heard it was a piece o' shit. Also the pilot and first episode of Wonderland, I'll cross that off my list right now. Oh and Friday Night Lights, I see. Didn't Explosions In The Sky do the soundtrack to that? That's pretty cool actually.

Anyhow, there you have it. Take my advice and save your dollar and just avoid seeing HANCOCK. Did I mention Charlize Theron was in it? Forget about it kid, she was the worst part of the whole sordid affair. Like I said, take my advice and save your dollar and tip your barista instead. It'll build up a hell of a stronger charge in your karma than seeing this onscreen stillbirth of what ought to have been an aborted movie.