Showing posts with label Michael Clayton. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Michael Clayton. Show all posts

Wednesday, July 2, 2008

Week 50: Michael Clayton

Oh, George Clooney, you scamp. Here I was, set to vilify Motley Husband for slipping Michael Clayton into our queue. For no good reason, I was convinced this movie was dreadfully self-important like that hot mess, Syriana. Or a complete disappointment like The Good German. But Michael Clayton is good, Georgie. You’re back on your game, pal, with a thriller that was actually thrilling. Sure, I spent the first fifteen minutes of the film trying to figure out what subtle facial plastic surgery has rendered you looking about ten years younger [tiny face lift? Mini brow lift? It’s there. I just can’t pinpoint it].

George, I'm trying to say it was a totally captivating film. So captivating, I wonder how he did it…[cue dream sequence music here]

CLOONEY: Brad Pitt, it’s becoming tiresome just getting by on our looks, isn’t it?

PITT: A little, yes. But then again, my looks went away about five years ago. Lucky for me I snagged the title of “International Do-Gooder” right before they faded.

CLOONEY: Yes, you did, you sneaky bastard. Right about the time I fell on my handsome face with that Ocean’s 13 or 14 business. Which one are we on now?

PITT: I’m pretty sure it was Ocean’s 16 but who can tell? I’m too busy helping refugees and making beautiful, beautiful babies with my hot wife – er – life partner. Clooney, I seem to be developing a sweat here. Can you instruct your servants to form a human shade shield around me? This fan I fashioned out of thousand-dollar bills isn’t doing much.

CLOONEY: Maybe you want to sit to the left of my Academy Award. It’s rather large, provides a lot of shade.

PITT: Don’t try to flaunt your Oscar to me. I’m above awards, Clooney. I’m too busy feeding starving orphans in Myanamoor.

CLOONEY: Don’t you mean Myanmar?

PITT: I could buy and sell you, Clooney.

CLOONEY: YOUR WIFE IS A WACKADOO!!!

PITT: Let’s not turn on each other. And she's not my wife. Let’s have a sip of this $9,000 bottle of wine I found next to the Doritos in your pantry. We need to relax. It’s been at least forty-five minutes since our last massage.

CLOONEY: You’re right, you’re right. I think this solid gold chaise lounge is making me tense.

PITT: You should try mine, it’s made out of live Portuguese orphans. They’re very bendy. But let’s get back to your career, George. You need a hit, my friend.

CLOONEY: Maybe the next Ocean’s sequel will recapture the magic of the first one. Maybe we’ll replace Julia Roberts with that Miley Cyrus. Or we could replace Sammy Davis – I mean Don Cheadle -- with another, um, ethnic choice. How do you feel about Mexicans?

PITT: Hey, I have an idea. What if you actually just made a good movie?

CLOONEY: Pitt, you are a genius, my friend. Why didn’t I think of that? This calls for a celebration. Manservant! Fill the bathtub with caviar and champagne. Daddy’s gonna be baptized a movie star all over again.

Wednesday, June 25, 2008

Broken DVD Yet Again

We're on a bad roll with Netflix. We've been sitting on the Michael Clayton DVD for a few days and stupidly never removed it from its package. If we had, we'd have seen that the disc was broken in two. So, sorry readers. We'll have to play the waiting game with Netflix now on a new disc.

Stay tuned for reviews coming hopefully soon!

Labels