Saw “Matrix Regurgitated” Friday night. No, it wasn’t as awful as most of your friends claim. Sure, it wasn’t even half as good as its trailer, but what movie is nowadays? I’d give it a 6 - which means I wouldn’t kick it off the bed for eating crackers, but I would politely ask it to sleep on the floor.
Oh c’mon, what’d you expect? It had at least three things going against it: It was a summer blockbuster (which tend to blow); it was a sequel (which tend to swallow), and it was a Keanu movie (which tend to felch). I think it was admirable that the Wachowski brothers pulled off a 6 despite those major obstacles. If they weren’t so desperate to demonstrate how utterly profound they are and focused more on the story, they might’ve been able to pull off a 7 or 8.
The only thing about the film that really pissed me off was the end credits. Someone had told me that the trailer for “Matrix Revolutions” would be playing after the credits, so we all stuck around. And around. And a-fucking-round. I think we personally witnessed the longest end credits in cinema history. They not only listed the U.S. cast and crew, but also Australia’s … and by the looks of it they hired the entire country, even the kangaroos and dingos.
Finally, after half the people in the theater died of natural causes, they played the trailer. Sooo not worth the wait. If the movie’s not even half as good as its trailer, “Revolutions” looks to be worse than “Reloaded.” It might not even be as good as the kimchi chigae I had Saturday night at Nakwon, which was tragically sub-par.
Squiggy finally had his cribwarming party Saturday. I say “crib” and not “house”, because the man has a penthouse atop one of the tres swank Water Terrace towers in Marina del Rey. Who’da thunk you could make that much money in commercial real estate investment? I’d always assumed Squiggy drank alcohol for a living, in which case Chuck and I could’ve been his neighbors.
Now that the guy has his chick-magnet address, he can now go about seeking his chick. As far as human males go, Squiggy’s life-of-the-party kind of funny, and he’s a genuinely nice person for a Harvard MBA. But he’s had a bitch of a time finding a quality woman.
Shit like this is just one of the constant reminders out there of how brutal the single life is in LA. I may just ditch the inspirational “There’s someone special out there for you, little buddy” speech, and recommend that he go into full-on He-Whore mode. It’s the right time for it too: summer is party season after all, when female clothing and inhibitions are in short supply.
But Squiggy wants to settle down, and so Mrs. Squiggy Quest continues.
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