As a young girl in southern Belgium after World War II, I was introduced to Hollywood cinema at my small village’s community theater. At the time, the European film industry had been completely decimated and we Belgians loved the Hollywood movie. I, a young girl with nothing to do, born to a father who had an unnatural love of French pastries and a mother who sold broken radio transistors to Turkish immigrants at the march퀌� on Sundays, realized my true calling at an early age, being so lucky. I realized I could see ahead, I could see the future, not for all, but only in Hollywood movies. The endings became so clear to me, even before they happened. I was always one step ahead of the plot points. I now bring my talent to you to help in selecting your movie-going pleasures.
Competency Rating (10/10): Allo, mon amis. Is it already that time yet again, for I, Madame Beignet de la Mort, to guide you, my faithful readers, through yet another opening weekend of Hollywood movies? I suppose the work of the unattainably beautiful is never truly complete. Thus is the burden of the monumentally attractive.
And speaking of people less attractive than me, this weekend’s openings both include a member of the cast of Fox’s inaccurate, yet amusing sit-com, “That 70’s Show.” And by inaccurate, I mean that I have never seen an episode where they snort cocaine off of one of Marlon Brando’s layers of stomach fat, nor have I seen an episode where an orgy took place in an Olympic-sized swimming pool full of Dom Perignon 1959. I mean, come on, whose ’70s are they supposed to be in anyway? C’est ridiculous, non?
As for my competency rating, was I not correct that last week that both “Along came Polly” and “Torque” did very little else than churn your fat, swollen American bowels into disarray? Therefore, I humbly announce myself the most beautiful and brilliant cinematic clairvoyant in the world!
YOUR MOVIE FORECAST for the weekend of 23 January 2004:
“The Butterfly Effect”: What is the Butterfly Effect, you ask? Well, it is a complex psychological anomaly in which you lose two hours of your life while staring at Ashton Kutcher in a dark room, yet gain nothing at all in return. By the end of this film you will wish that you, too, just like Ashton Kutcher in the film, had the power to travel back through time in order to save yourself from buying a ticket to this silly movie on Fandango. When you find yourself there in the past, slap yourself for me, as well. In short, I predict that this movie will suck.
“Win a Date with Tad Hamilton!” : Maybe! It! Is! Just! Me! But! I! Hate! Movies! With! Exclamation! Points! In! The! Title! So! I! Refuse! To! Have! A! Psychic! Vision! About! It! My! Editor! Can! Take! It! Up! With! My! Lawyer! [Ed. note: Madame de la Mort’s sweet, sweet seductive psychic-ness prevents us from disagreeing with her on any point. Therefore, she will be back next week with no legal action taken.]