Monday, February 16, 2009
What Confessions of a Shopaholic taught me about the Detroit Bad Boys
I had a lovely Valentine’s Day that consisted of a double-date with my fiancée and two of our friends. It was pretty standard: dinner and a movie. I make my fiancée watch an innumerable amount of sports so I don’t think it’s a big deal to go to a romantic comedy or two to repay the favor. That being said, I can still gripe about Confessions of a Shopaholic (COAS) after the fact.
You know why most guys loathe going to romantic comedies? For every decent one, there’s 18 crappy ones lined up right behind it. For every Pretty Woman, there’s another 15 Runaway Brides. For every When Harry Met Sally, there’s another 12 You’ve Got Mail’s coming.
Where did COAS fall? It was the loathsome crap that makes men want to shoot themselves. Seriously, if you want to get the male audience to return to one of these types of movies before next Valentine’s Day, maybe you could make a romantic comedy that is merely boring instead of painful. (How painful was COAS? Let’s just say that halfway through the movie my flask was empty and my male counterpart was asleep. You be the judge of which of us was smarter.)
Now, I suppose one would argue that the respectable Valentine’s Day movie that men could possibly enjoy, or at the very least, not abhor, was He’s Just Not That Into You. However, the studio that made that movie decided it was best to release it on Feb. 6 so that 75% of the female population could go watch it with their girlfriends and then subject their men to COAS the next weekend. And that’s exactly what happened; both my fiancée and my friend’s wife had both already seen He’s Just Not That Into You, which meant we were subjected to one of the worst movies of all-time.
I’d love to sit here and give you a review of the movie if it weren’t for the following problems: A) My flask was empty midway through the movie so I’m not sure how accurate my review would be and 2. Why would any male want to read a review of that movie? If you didn’t have to see COAS this weekend, just be grateful. You should be feeling exactly how men felt when their draft number wasn’t called.
However, I will complain about two components of COAS that at least deserve a footnote to the rant above.
First off, the plot revolved around a style-obsessed shopaholic journalist who desperately wants to work for a prestigious woman’s fashion magazine. Since the shopaholic can’t get that job, she somehow lands a job with financial magazine owned by the same parent company with the thinking that it at least gives her a foot in the door. Seriously, that’s the plot? That’s the best they could come up with? A shopaholic somehow lands a job working as a financial columnist? That’s the equivalent of me wanting to write for ESPN.com and thinking that I could write for a soap opera on ABC until my time came. (Or, as I said on Saturday when leaving the movie, “It’d be like me writing tampon reviews.” Thanks Captain Morgan!).
Second, how in the hell did this movie have John Goodman and John Salley in it? John Goodman, you’re better than this. You were classic in Raising Arizona. You provided comic relief in Arachnophobia. I’m even a fan of Dan Conner in Rosanne. Hell, you’re Walter F-ing Sobchak in The Big Lebowski. And now, you’re the Dad in COAS? Didn’t you learn your lesson from being the Dad in Coyote Ugly? Is there a worse combo in movie history than appearing in these two movies? I dare someone to find a worse two movie combo for a once respectable actor/actress.
And you, John Salley. Weren’t you a member of the Bad Boys? As if Bill Laimbeer’s WNBA coaching career and Isiah Thomas’s throwing of his daughter under the bus to cover up his psedo suicide attempt weren’t enough, you’ve gone and done this. Can the Pistons of the late ‘80s still be called the Bad Boys when Dennis Rodman went on to wear dresses and Salley appears in COAS? At this rate, Joe Dumars will show up at his next press conference in a coconut bra and grass skirt to announce he’s resigning as GM of the Pistons to pursue a career in figure skating.