Thursday, September 07, 2006

I’m feeling CRANK-y and Why Bald Is Beautiful

Hoo-boy. Yesterday was Boy Kid’s birthday, and so I sped home, changed clothes, and then we all piled in Mrs. Automobile again (because something called a “Kia Spectra” just has to be female) to speed back down the other way to gobble up a nice Indian dinner at the Bombay Grill (which took approximately forever to come, but which was de-lic-ious when it finally arrived). After that, we went to see Crank, starring the extremely hunky and oh-so balding Jason Statham. He’s British, he’s covered in muscles, he looks like he eats gravel for breakfast, and I cannot think of a single other actor who could have pulled off this role. It was made for him, and I doubt there is any way Mr. Jason can top this performance. His career is officially over; it’s all down hill from here. God he is dreamy, and I don’t usually like muscles.

No Spoilers Here, Or Not Much
Um…I shouldn't tell you a thing about this movie, but I will anyway; because there is no other movie out there like it, it is more cheerfully violent than anything I’ve seen, it’s about bad, evil and/or stupid people frenetically doing horrible things, and it is the most fun I’ve had in a long time. That being said, this movie is not for you. Don’t go. You will regret it. I warned you. The fact that I enjoyed Crank so much only reflects badly on me; and I’m sure you are a lovely person who would be scarred for life. I am not a nice person and I should never have laughed so hard at the guy crashing his Vista Cruiser on the mall escalator, standing on a moving motorcycle while wearing a hospital gown and with eyes shut doing 50 on the boulevard, fist-fighting a dude while attaining terminal velocity, or shooting someone with their own gun which is still attached to their own bloody hand. I am a bad, bad person. Well, maybe not bad enough to snort cocaine off a dirty men's room floor, but bad enough to hork chocolate out of my nose laughing when Mr. Jason does it.

Crank is just like it sounds—on speed. It utilizes spit-screen, text–on-screen (watch for the elevator scene) pulsing walls, Photoshop filters, inverted colors, and a large quantity of stunt persons mangled and abused in ways never before imagined. It is gloriously unapologetic for being completely reprehensible. Bad guys do bad things. More drugs are consumed than is technically possible. Boys shoot people, girls hang around in big plastic bubbles with no clothes on; and Dwight Yokum is beyond hilarious as the main character’s doctor. Google Earth rules all. Yowza. It’s beyond description. The ending of the movie is more inventive and sublime than any I can think of right now.

Seriously though, don’t go. If you do go, don’t think badly of me. And eat dinner beforehand.


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