Chappelle’s Show has a skit called “I Wrote This Song a Long Time Ago” where a club plays an ostensibly unreleased song from Tupac that is hysterically prescient. At one point, a girl in a skirt walks through the club and “Tupac” notices (again, from a song written in 1994), that the girl has a “pudding stain” on the back. He then sings out, in a timbre I hear in my head weekly, “it might be doodoo.”
Anyway, that’s what I thought of Wicked.
I’m not one to return my food or complain, but I’d have to make an exception for The Menu. The satire is so surface level and elementary I really can’t believe anybody thinks it’s anything more than the simplest carbohydrate.
Which is fine, if this movie wanted to be just an easily processed snack. But then it should have settled on a suitable tone. Can a thriller have moments of humor? Sure (see Barbarian). But the ratio of humor to tension is way off here and renders both ineffective.
In the end, it’s like Tyler’s meal for me. I like the ingredients, but the preparation fails.
Give it props for being funny-bad instead of just bad-bad.
Really like how the script doesn’t hold the audience’s hands. A movie for adults, with mostly good performances (Jolie is a notable exception — very miscast).
It’s long, but hums along. Some weird digressions along the way. And I personally would’ve liked more spy craft. But not sure why this is so slept on.
2005 was a different time. Insane Courtney Love outlived three people in this
Andy Samberg’s roast should be put in the Louvre
