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Saturday, December 27, 2008

The Movie: "Seven Pounds" (of Flab)

Honestly, it was just so terribblllllyyy bad!

I wanted to leave before the half to go to the lobby and watch popcorn cascade from the aluminum pan into the big container below (which would have been more interesting), but trying to be considerate to my cousin (who likes all movies) and her daughters especially during the holiday season, I stayed. Being nice sometimes just isn't worth it.

When I described it to a friend she asked: "Was it a comedy?" We could only wish.

To sum up:






Would you like to know a new way to commit suicide? In addition to completing mental suicide when you see this thing, a new physical way to kill yourself is presented along with illustration.

The best is saved for last in a bath tub which, in retrospect, has me drowning in laughter.

The only redeeming social factor is Will Smith's body and even seeing this movie for free is not worth that. Well, yes, some of the music is okay but not to abandon two hours of your life to see tripe.

Do you catch my drift? To think I actually paid cash to see this! Moan and groan.

There cannot be any doubt, dear Readers, that the writer/producer of this bowl of concrete put together words and searched for a star who would be foolish enough to star in a plotless film which moves in slow motion.

In this economy, in any economy these takes are intended for the recycle pile which actually is too good a place for it to land since it might mean we'd have to see portions of it, God forbid, again.

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