Napoleon DynaUGH and Flirting With Flirting Flirting With Disaster With Disaster

Insomnia again. David Oreck is behind this, I know he is. And I must say that it's an excellent marketing strategery. Oh well, I've still haven't done my movie post, so this is a good opportunity. Until my eyeballs shrivel up and fall out of my head, of course.

Napoleon Dynamite

Ugh. I read all kinds of good things about this movie, which should have tipped me off, since I was sorely disappointed by the (IMO) waaaaay overhyped Lost in Translation. (Sorry Mia. Sorry Bill. Sorry Scarlett.) Was it quirky? Yes. Was it funny? Not so much. I think part of my problem was that I had zero sympathy for the main character. Sure, he was normally alone except for Girl With the Side Ponytail and his 30-year-old exchange student friend, but he also had a horrible attitude and I wouldn't have wanted to be around him, no matter how he dressed.

Then again, it's kind of a chicken-and-egg thing. I went to high school with a girl that most people made fun of, and most people were of the opinion that having her around was not the best idea. However, she was also grouchy and generally hateful to people, but I don't know if she was grouchy first or if the grouchiness was born out of all the teasing and exclusion. Anyway, I think the movie was supposed to show that the unconventional and slighty greasy guy with a bad attitude = good, while the evil cheerleader-types deserve to have Nair put in their shampoo bottles for not working their way through his quirktacular outer lipid layer. His 30-something uncle who can't let go of his high school football glory days, I think, is how we're supposed to think high school athletes deserve to end up.

But to be fair, it wasn't all bad. The opening credits were done in a way that interested me, and a good song played during the end credits. You can skip all the stuff in the middle, because you'll probably want to clean Napoleon's glasses, tell his idiot uncle to get a life, and send Side Ponytail Girl for a good shampoo.

So in conclusion, meh.

Flirting With Disaster

Not much to say about this one - Ben Stiller is married to someone who I kept expecting to be Christine Taylor but she wasn't because she's Patricia Arquette, and I didn't like that about her. He goes on a search for his birth mother, and in the process he says a huge amount of words. I got the feeling that the writers wanted to include all of these lines that they thought were great, but since that would have caused the movie to be five hours long, they just had all of the characters talk at the same time instead. I would have liked this movie much better had everyone shushed it up a little and stopped talking so freaking much.

Flirting With Disaster was better than Napoleon Dynamite. And just so you know, Napoleon Dynamite comes in last in every comparison. Counting how many times my cursor blinks in 2 hours is more exciting. And as an added bonus, I don't feel the need to blot my cursor with one of my beloved Clean & Clear Oil-Absorbing Sheets.

Okay, remember that thing I said up there about my eyeballs? They're about to do that, and I really wish they wouldn't. So I think I'll try sleeping again.

ETA, boo! I wrote a considerably long section in which I gushed over Wicker Park, and Blogger selfishly ate it. Just to reiterate, boo! I'll redo it later.