My Big Fat Greek Wedding (2002)
I recognize that the American public isn't exactly renowned for their refined taste, but this is ridiculous. Audiences and critics have united in singing the praises of this scrappy little indie (and BTW, don't get me started on how 'indie' this thing actually is), calling it feel-good and wonderful and other such effusive adjectives. All of that is a big fat fucking Greek crock -- this film is simply pathetic. Christ, people, it's more or less an Extra-Special, Extra-Greek episode of "Caroline in the City" stretched out to three times its natural length. Surely I can't be the only person who recognizes this for the terrible-sitcom-fodder that it so obviously is. (Not for nothing, but check out director Joel Zwick's other credits.) And surely I can't be the only person who sees Nia Vardalos as a flat, inexpressive and charisma-less hunk of no-talent flesh. Okay, you think, he's just overreacting to the film's monumental success. And while it does stick in my craw that this will from now on represent 'independent cinema' for far too many people, it wouldn't matter if the film had grossed $200 million or $200,000. Regardless of box-office gross, the fact remains that there is not a single thing I like about this film. It's poorly written, poorly acted, poorly directed and poorly shot. It's pitched at the lowest-common-denominator level so as to be nice and bland and dull for the folks in Bumfuck, Iowa. It's predictable and schematic and horridly unfunny and it has a great sucking vacuum at its center. But most of all, it's intensely self-satisfied for no good fucking reason. It's not enough that the film has to be bad -- it's gotta be smug about it too. Sweet, my ass. The only thing that keeps me from flunking this fucker is the thought that the dozens of clones it'll inspire will be even worse. (Well, also "Nice boobs" and "I have three testicles" did make me smirk a bit.)
Grade: D-
I recognize that the American public isn't exactly renowned for their refined taste, but this is ridiculous. Audiences and critics have united in singing the praises of this scrappy little indie (and BTW, don't get me started on how 'indie' this thing actually is), calling it feel-good and wonderful and other such effusive adjectives. All of that is a big fat fucking Greek crock -- this film is simply pathetic. Christ, people, it's more or less an Extra-Special, Extra-Greek episode of "Caroline in the City" stretched out to three times its natural length. Surely I can't be the only person who recognizes this for the terrible-sitcom-fodder that it so obviously is. (Not for nothing, but check out director Joel Zwick's other credits.) And surely I can't be the only person who sees Nia Vardalos as a flat, inexpressive and charisma-less hunk of no-talent flesh. Okay, you think, he's just overreacting to the film's monumental success. And while it does stick in my craw that this will from now on represent 'independent cinema' for far too many people, it wouldn't matter if the film had grossed $200 million or $200,000. Regardless of box-office gross, the fact remains that there is not a single thing I like about this film. It's poorly written, poorly acted, poorly directed and poorly shot. It's pitched at the lowest-common-denominator level so as to be nice and bland and dull for the folks in Bumfuck, Iowa. It's predictable and schematic and horridly unfunny and it has a great sucking vacuum at its center. But most of all, it's intensely self-satisfied for no good fucking reason. It's not enough that the film has to be bad -- it's gotta be smug about it too. Sweet, my ass. The only thing that keeps me from flunking this fucker is the thought that the dozens of clones it'll inspire will be even worse. (Well, also "Nice boobs" and "I have three testicles" did make me smirk a bit.)
Grade: D-
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