The other day of the other week, on one of my COVID remote work days, I sat down on my lunch hour with – of all things – a bowl of beans to eat (nutritious!) and turned on the TV to start something I could finish later, which is about how it goes for me these days. My Amazon account picked a Showtime offering with matthew mcconaughey in it (I assume because I watch True Detective season 1 probably more often than a person should) where he plays a guy who goes to Japan to that Suicide Forest we all hear about to do himself in and runs into some mysterious stranger, etc. etc. I figured, ‘why not?’ and picked up my bowl of beans and then a title card came across indicating this was a Gus Van Sant movie and the clouds outside darkened and my beans curdled and my dogs started crying and that Zebra plant we got for New Year’s wilted and my eyeglasses broke and —- but I pressed on in the name of Good Faith until about twenty minutes in when I wanted to book a trip to the Suicide Forest and finish myself off once and for all but my credit card declined so I did what any rational man in his almsot 50s would do, I hit the back button and found something else.
I never really wanted to see this… why? Let me set this up.
- As much as I talk about my personal and public shame, I have been criticized in the past for my lack of proper syntax and grammar, lack of the proper use of bullet points and for being very quick to judge a movie by it’s cover poster.
- (See bullet 1) my OCD and dissatisfaction with a piece of work based solely on a character’s hairstyle or choice of clothing. I’m pointing at YOU Nightcrawler. I’m pointing at you and my hand is shaking and my TIC TIC TIC
- I’m the only person in the world that didn’t like Get Out. I didn’t think it was that clever or ground breaking and that woman screaming about her kitchen was kind of stupid and so was that guy running as fast as he can and doing 90 degree turns and then the idiot people on tik tok trying to do it and I’m glad they hurt themselves those fucking idiots and I thought the ending sucked too.
- I had heard about Ma and wasn’t ever too interested and the movie poster really reminds me of Get Out so I figured I was just in for something that wouldn’t work for me and my lunchtime movie watchin’ would be wasted and all hope would be lost – because we’re super serious here
Well, compared to the first 20 minutes of The Sea of Trees, this movie was a miracle. I’m not the kind of guy who cares about whether you’ve seen this move before or who stitched up whose lips, or even “dear god, did I just like Juliette Lewis in something???”, I base my shit on whether not I was entertained and – I mean for real – any movie with Kung Fu Fighting in it gets a mark from me. The good version, not the Bruce Willis one. Plus this had a chick in it who looks like a young Melissa George and we all know how much Melissa George loves me, smooch smooch.
Have you seen the trailer for this or even – what do they call them – a “spot”? Ma is fun! Ma will buy you booze! Ma can do the robot! Ma sucked off the wrong guy in school and ever since then Ma is fucking crazy! Stich your lips shut and roger you up the ass with an empty bottle of Boone’s Farm Red, that’s how crazy! In fact, she’s so fucking, goddamn crazy she might just run you down in cold blood in a truck I’m surprised she can afford or follow you to your new job at the steamboat casino and cut your tits off right then and there in front of the whole crowd. Will she get loaded and throw you off of the top of that rock pile that was probably once a grain silo or give you a dog blood transfusion? How much of that last paragraph is true and is Boone’s Farm Red even a drink? Did the girl from Space Force fart in the elevator at work or in the grain elevator in your small, home town where you made your first nut?
It’s hard to tell what’s going on these days or even in this post, but Ma isn’t the worst thing you can turn on. It feels like we’ve been through a lot since we started this piece together and I thank you for being such a gracious guest. Please accept these complimentary sweet chili peppers as a going away gift and always listen to what your own Ma cautioned you about (insert number, single or double digit, don’t be ashamed) years ago: “A gentleman never nuts his pants on the first date.”
Filed Under: AT LEAST THEY TRIED