Joe and Marco At The Movies!

I’d like to welcome you to our first movie review of 2023. I was able to get Joe Pesci to take some time away from his very busy schedule . . which includes tee times in Scottsdale and blowing his denture dough on the ponies . . .

Fuck you very much, Marco. For one thing, I ain’t gambled on the ponies in a month. And when I do, I win! For anotha, I only use golf clubs when negotiations hit a snag . . .

Wow, you’ve upgraded from aluminum bats! That’s some high brow shit you’re dealing up in the ‘boardroom’.

And if you got a problem with it, I can introduce you to my hybrid driver, ya stuttering prick.

No thanks Joe. Golf ain’t my bag, pun intended. But movies are, and we have a rather unusual entry this week. Skinamarink is the directorial debut for Canadian filmmaker Kyle Edward Ball. It was made on a skinny jeans budget of $15,000, most of which was raised through crowdfunding. And while I loved it? Joe . . . not so much.

Don’t forget to mention we got some spoilers Marco. I know how sensitive you get about that shit.

My little guy is growing up!

And what’s this crowdfunding about?

It’s like a grass roots online fundraiser where people donate whatever they feel like.

I know a guy who woulda leant him da money without all that aggravation. 

Yeah I’m pretty sure Ball didn’t want to be taking out a loan in which he was repaying the debt with certain of his body parts.

Whateva . . .

Enough of that, let’s get to what’s cooking. Joe, I cannot say enough good things about this movie, which pits me on the movie geek side of the ledger. It’s a polarizing film that people either loved or loathed. I happened to love it for its bare boned heft. It takes the mainstream paranormal movie and places it in a masterful reduction sauce the likes of which I do not believe I have ever experienced.

Well, if that means dis Ball guy robbed anyone who wasted their time with dis piece of shit of a movie, then I agree wholeheartedly. If a hundred closeup shots of Legos and an endless reel of cartoons that are older than me is your bag, then you probably don’t need to be sitting in the dark in the first place. You need stronger meds.

God forbid a filmmaker challenges you to put in some work! The nightmare scenario is something Ball honed for years on his YouTube channel, and he marries it to all those many things we still fear . . like the dark and strange noises and being completely helpless. And umm, what part of ‘experimental’ did you not understand?

Excuse me asshole, but I experimented plenty when I was younger. And it was WAY more enjoyable than this vomit on a stick.

That’s the whole enchilada man! Ball turns the paranormal genre on its head, both figuratively and literally. There’s no reliance on CGI or sound effects or big name talent. His story’s complexity is found in the simple things and that’s why it works. You have to be patient with this one, so I can see where the meaning escaped you.

Lemme tell you something pal, I am being plenty patient right now seeing as how your nose is still attached to your face.

May I remind you this humble little venture just surpassed $1 million at the box office, and it drops on the horror channel Shudder in February. That tells me lots of people are seeing it my way.

Oh yeah? Well that tells me there are a lot of mental patients walking around.

I give it four out of five stars with my only critique being the running time. Ball could’ve cut it down some, but really, I’m just nitpicking.

I give it a five . .

Wow Joe, you were pulling one over on me this entire time?!

No. I give it a five, as in you better have five drinks in you before you watch this crap. And you bettah keep right on drinking when it starts because if you’re lucky you’ll pass out and forget it ever happened. 

Well shit, Joe. Okay, next week we’ll review Poison Rose, starring John Travolta and Morgan Freeman. Spoiler alert, it’s simply bad acting. You can handle that, can’t you?

I’ll start drinking now, just in case.

Joe and Marco at the Movies!

Back in the day, I was relatively familiar with film critics because there used to be a symmetry to their presence. Gene Shalit was a fixture of morning shows while Leonard Maltin appeared on Entertainment Tonight. Siskel and Ebert would work it on their weekend show with Richard Roeper playing the versatile utility man. And I would be remiss if I didn’t include Rex Reed and Peter Travers, who plied their craft with bark and bite.

And then the medium went democratic and the finery of flapping gums was replaced with websites and blogs and podcasts bucking the big box office behemoth known as Rotten Tomatoes. It’s gotten to where you can’t tell the players even with a scorecard, so me and my pal Joe have decided to pair up for a top five list ‘o the week.

What’s the worst that could happen?

Marco: We’ll start with a movie that I absolutely loved called Barbarian by director Zach Cregger. It’s a brilliantly directed horror story that deftly weaves together the lost American dream with the #MeToo movement while making Airbnb users think twice before going in those waters.

Joe: I don’t know how in the fuck you got all dat outta dis!

Marco: Oh come on Joe! The cast was dynamic, and I loved Richard Brake in such an understated departure from his usual maniacal self. And the way Cregger played the scenes against each other was pure genius!

Joe: All I kept asking myself is, who da fuck rents an Airbnb in Detroit?!

Marco: Okay Joe, you take the next flick.

Joe: If it gets you to shut da fuck up for five seconds . . gladly.

I wanted to love this one since it’s about a guy who forgets that he’s married and gets away with it! I mean, I done this trick many times and it always ended in divorce court so yanno, I thought maybe I would learn something. What I learned was that I wasted an hour and a half of my life watching this bag of dicks run from Mexican gangsters with bad hair . . . Oh, I’m sorry, Mexican businessmen with guns. Josh Duhamel is da main character and I remember seeing him a while back in a romantic comedy I accidentally watched eight times. He was much better in that, because Liam Neeson he ain’t. Nick Nolte plays his boss in this one, which is unfuckingbelievable since I think he died ten years ago.

Your turn Marco.

Another favorite of mine is The Good Nurse starring the Academy Award winning actress Jessica Chastain. It’s based on the true story of serial killer Charles Cullen, whose arrest in 2003 uncovered the insidiously dark side of our healthcare system. Chastain breaks open her Hall of Fame toolbox as Amy Loughren, the nurse who helped authorities bring Cullen to justice. Eddie Redmayne is a maestro in his turn as the antagonist whose seething rage keeps us on the edge of our seats. The deliberate pace of the movie mirrors the painstakingly slow wheels of justice.

Fuck slow wheels, I want action! Which is what I thought I was gonna get with Samaritan, a movie that stars my old neighbor Sly Stallone. Get this, the old man plays a superhero who retired from that gig so he could be a garbage man. I think da guy who came up with this idea musta been related to Mrs. Stallone. Of course there’s this pain in the ass neighbor kid, because there’s always a pain in the ass neighbor kid in these movies, and he’s da one who figures out his garbage man has superhuman strength. Sly is seventy six years old for fuck sake. His only superpowers at this point involve staying up past nine and being regular. This movie is more ridiculous than my Uncle Sal’s idea to put wine in juice boxes.

Joe: No fucking way.

Marco: Nope.

Joe Pesci Movie Review: Final Score

It’s been a long time since I did one of these movie reviews for Marco, seeing as how I was holding out for more money. Lemme clarify that statement for ya . . . I was holding out for any fucking money whatsoever! The cheap fuck doesn’t pay me for these gems, and if not for the fact he has so much dirt on me, I’d already have moved him into some cheap digs out in the desert.

So this week I’m reviewing Final Score. It’s an action movie even though it involves a soccer game, go figga! Dave Bautista and Pierce Brosnan are the only actors I recognized because the cast of this thing is more British than General William Howe’s army. And no, I ain’t a history buff, but I banged a chick who was a Revolutionary War reenactor back when I was chasing acting jobs. Or at least I think she was a reenactor. . . .

Anyway, Bautista plays this schmuck named Michael Knox. The reason I call him a schmuck is because he adopts his Army pal’s family after da guy croaks. Knox blames himself and I understand what it’s like when one of your soldiers hits the snooze, permanently speaking. But if I played Uncle to the families of every soldato I lost to a business meeting, I woulda gone broke, yanno? Knox clearly didn’t get the memo because the stronzo visits them all the time. And get this . . . they live in the UK! So he hops a plane, from the states, just to drop in on ’em whenever the fuck he has a free minute.

Knox convinces his Army pal’s wife to let him take his make believe niece to a soccer game. Mom runs a bar and deals with a lot of pains in the asses, but they’re a piece of cake compared to her daughter so she agrees to let Uncle Mike take her. That’s where the soccer game comes in, and not for nothing but the guy who wrote this is fucking brilliant because he figured out a way to make the sport inneresting: Terrorists!

Stop me if you’ve heard this one. The terrorists are Russians and their entire plot hinges on a couple nut-bags reuniting so’s they can start a revolution. It reminded me of the time I almost married a Russian girl but the fuckhead handling the online transaction maxed out my credit card and ran off with her. So . . yanno, Russians ain’t my favorite people. But these guys are even worse than that! They lock down the stadium during a game and the fans have no idea that they’re hostages, because the only thing dumber than an American sports fan is . . . well okay, there ain’t anything dumber than an American sports fan.

After the terrorists lock down the joint, we find out they have it wired with explosives and nobody’s leaving. I remember the time my late business associate Sal pulled a stunt like that with one of the bosses. Let’s just say there’s a reason Sal is my late business associate.

As much of a schmuck as Knox is, he also happens to be a real badass. So he takes care of most of the terrorists and then he finds Dimitri Belav, played by Pierce Brosnan. Dimitri doesn’t wanna be reunited with his nut-bag brother because he’s traded revolutions for soccer tickets. Whatever. And of fucking course, Knox’s pain in the ass niece is running around inside the stadium with a little douchebag for half the movie and then he has to save her on top of killing the terrorists and making sure thirty five thousand fans don’t get turned into bread pudding. He accomplishes all this with the help of a Middle Eastern kid working security at the game. I shit you not. Everything works out, in the event there’s a sequel.

Oh yeah, Marco wanted me to let ya know there may be spoilers in this review.

Joe Pesci Movie Review: Jolt

Lemme start by issuing the oh so important spoiler alert before a certain blog owner with a stick up his ass for such things texts me one more fucking time about it. I already threatened to kneecap him but he doesn’t scare easy, which is typical of stupid assholes.

Spoiler alert . . da fuck.

Many people ain’t aware of this, but I think women can do anything us guys can do. Run for President, be an astronaut or a basketball player? Sure, I mean of course. But in this instance I’m talking about every day stuff. Yanno, like hiring an escort on a business trip or murdering their significant other.

Lindy Lewis- played by the lovely Kate Beckinsale- has the kind of temper that will wake you out of a sound sleep just to let you know she’s gonna kill ya. So I was hooked on the chick while the opening credits for the movie Jolt were still getting in the way. That British accent and those titanium high heels work on my last hormone and I mean that literally, since I got one left.

Lindy has the kind of temper that has its own term- intermittent explosive disorder. And just like explosive diarrhea it will make the unlucky bastard who pisses her off shit his pants too. When she gets pissed, she turns into a cross between Chuck Norris and my Aunt Julia.

Stanley Tucci plays her Mr. Miyagi. He’s her psychiatrist and life coach, because with the issues she’s got going, he’s gonna be rich. Get this, he rigs this electrode device that she wears, and whenever she feels like she’s about to lose it, she pushes a button and it shocks her. Don’t ask me why that doesn’t piss her off, but I’m not a writer so what do I know?

Anyway, Lindy meets an accountant (Jai Courtney) who says he works for one guy. That always means there’s some crooked shit going on and sure enough there is, because a day after meeting him, he ends up dead. Now she’s really pissed because they had a great second date that ended with breakfast. So watch the fuck out, bad guys, because the British are coming.

Before you know it, Lindy is killing bosses, because there’s always way more than one boss. Of course, the cops gotta get involved so’s they can take the credit when she cracks the case. Laverne Cox and my pal Bobby Canavale play the cops, and not for nothing, but he plays good cop so well that Lindy’s got breakfast eyes for him before the flick is over.

Oh and get this, the accountant who got knocked off ten minutes in? Turns out he faked it so he could be the boss. What a stupid fuck this guy is, because she’s already killed more bosses than a hitman for the Gambinos. This chick already rearranged the face of a shitty waitress so what do you think she’s gonna do to a guy who doesn’t just kick her to the curb but fakes his death to do it? And then comes back later to torture her with her own device as he laughs at her?

She turns him into meatloaf by handing him a bag with a bomb in it, which proves she musta really liked this guy a lot, the lucky bastid. So after he’s gone she goes back to her apartment to find Susan Sarandon waiting for her. She’s pretending to play a creepy doctor but she’s really there to let us know there’s gonna be another movie.

On a scale of 1-10, I give dis movie an absofuckinglutely.

 

Joe And Marco At The Movies!

Marco: Welcome to yet another first here at Sorryless, as yours truly will sit on the aisle with the inimitable Joe Pesci to review the sequel to The Conjuring. It is the third movie in the series and the eighth movie in the Conjuring Universe. This sequel follows real life demonologists Ed and Lorraine Warren’s involvement in a historic 1981 murder trial in which demonic possession was used as a defense . .

Joe: Wait one fucking minute! Those people was real? And they really used that defense in a murder trial?

Marco: Yeah pal, it was true life shit, I told you that while we were watching it, but you were too busy lip-schtupping that bottle of Chivas to listen. And hey . . before we go any further, let’s make sure to let our readers know this post contains spoilers.

Joe: A-fucking-gain with the spoilers, you stuttering prick? What is with the bug up your ass when it comes to spoilers? They KNOW we’re reviewing the movie! Whaddaya think they’re coming here to read about the World Cup? 

Marco: It’s just a courtesy, Joe.

Joe: Yeah, like da mints they leave in a bowl when you go up to pay your bill at a restaurant. And you know what that courtesy is full of? Shit. Literally, they did a study on it.

Marco: Thanks Dr. Fauci. So yes, in answer to your question, the Warrens were consultants in a murder investigation that took place in Connecticut.  They claimed that Arne Johnson was possessed by a demon when he stabbed his landlord twenty-two times.

Joe: Where . . . da fuck were the Warrens when I was on trial for allegedly murdering Jimmy “Nine Toes” Benedetti?

Marco: Refresh my memory on that one.

Joe: The prosecution claimed that I shot Jimmy thirty-five times. But they didn’t have a case!

Marco: Why’s that Joe?

Joe: Well, the alleged witness who saw me going in Jimmy’s place . . disappeared. And the other alleged witness who saw me leaving Jimmy’s place . . disappeared. And the other alleged witness who heard gunshots . .

Marco: Lemme guess, disappeared?

Joe: Bingo! No case. But it took a couple months to come to dat conclusion. I coulda used the demonic possession defense and been out in time for Christmas!

Marco: But you didn’t shoot Jimmy, right?

Joe: (Winking) Of course not. 

Marco: Before this movie review leads to a criminal investigation, why don’t you give my peeps a synopsis of the movie?

Joe: If by synopsis you mean why don’t I talk about the movie, sure. Whoa! What a novel fucking concept, you mope! And do me a favah, will ya? Stop with da French . . just ask me in plain English?

Marco: Actually, the origin of synopsis is Greek . .

Joe: I never heard Jimmy the Greek use that fucking word so shut the fuck up. Anyways, about this movie. It begins at this little kid’s birthday party where things get outta hand . . .

Marco: Joe, it wasn’t a birthday party, it was an exorcism.

Joe: What da fuck does it matter what it was? The family was a bunch of wackadoos and the kid was having a temper tantrum is all.

Marco: The Warrens were trying to exorcise the demon and Arne called for it to enter his body.

Joe: Oh, you mean da guy with that nut-job defense. Yeah . . yeah, I remember now. So this guy ends up stabbing his landlord. Oh . . sorry. .  the devil ends up stabbing his landlord twenty-two times. Holy shit, talk about being under the influence! So then the Warrens go to Massachusetts because there’s this chick that was also stabbed twenty-two times.

Marco: They believed it was a curse passed on through a witch’s totem, and they meet with a priest who had dealings with a satanic cult. It was their belief the curse was passed to the kid and then to Arne.

Joe: (Making a lewd gesture with his right hand) Rich white people will do anything to get outta trouble. So anyways, this Warren chick almost gets killed by her husband, which I thought was pretty realistic. Turns out, this demon gets around.

Marco: I take it you don’t believe in demonic possession?

Joe: Listen pal, the husband can blame it on Nixon for all I care.

Marco: You’re missing the point. The totem held certain powers, which is why they had to take it with them when they visited the altar where the rituals had been performed. They had to get rid of the evil. And that’s where they find the occultist responsible for the death of the young girl from Massachusetts. And that’s why the occultist paid the ultimate vig . . so the demon could move on, through her.

Joe: Is that what all the gymnastics was about? I haven’t seen a body twist and turn like that since I dated a Russian stripper.

Marco: Nonetheless, I found this movie to be utterly predictable. It followed the same tired possession flick formula. Boy meets demon, boy falls for demon . . demon ends up skipping town.

Joe: And the asshole with the possession defense got five years. Which ain’t horrible.

Marco: So . . how did Jimmy “Nine Toes” get his nickname?

Joe: He was a lousy dancer.

Joe Pesci Reviews Those Who Wish Me Dead

I was doing a stakeout of Bob Baffert’s place in Boca when Marco interrupted my business with a text. The asshole decided that was a good time to ask me if I wanted to do another movie review. His timing is worse than my first wife, who sent me a fax to tell me she was breaking up with me right before I went on trial in a double homicide case. No . . wait . . that was my first lawyer . . even worse!

So I called Marco and I asked him what movie he wanted me to watch for this oh so important movie review. You know what the ingrate says to me?

“I just watched Those Who Wish Me Dead and holy shit did it blow! You’ve GOT to review it for the blog!”

The balls on this guy! He wanted me to forget the fact I lost half a million clams because Bob Fucking Baffert decided to treat his horse like it was A-Rod . . . and instead . . watch a movie that is a complete waste of my time. And then he told me Angelina Jolie was in it, and I said okay. It’s probably for the best since that silver haired prick Baffert has better lawyers than I do.

Before I get started with this review, you should know I’m scoring it a perfect four out of four stars because Angelina Jolie is in it. And while Marco may be a stuttering prick, he was right about the flick. It really does blow, in spite of Angelina, who should win an Oscar, just for existing.

For Those Who Wish Me Dead is a movie title I can totally relate to, so points for that.

Okay, so in the first scene, Aiden Gillen and his associate pose as fire inspectors. When the lady of the house answers the door, they ask if her husband is home. When she says yes, they tell her that the house may have a gas leak and they ask if they can check it out. It’s the oldest trick in the book, and it works like a charm, every time. Trust me on that.

So once dat guy is outta da picture, we learn there is another guy who needs to be quieted because of some top secret shit. This fellow is what they call a forensic accountant, which in laymen’s terms means bad news for guys like us. He knows they’re after him so he skips town but of course they find him, but his kid gets away.

That’s when we get to meet Angelina, who plays a smoke jumper named Hannah Faber in this buttfuck of a town in Montana. I was familiar with the term- smoke jumper-but my definition is much different and since Angelina is supposed to be one, I’m gonna stick with my definition. Anyway, Hannah has a lot of guilt because she fucked up and and some kids died in a wildfire because of it. So she drinks whiskey and jumps out of flat bed trucks for fun in order to bury the pain. I really love that.

Jon Bernthal plays a Sheriff who basically just takes scenes away from Angelina, because his wife actually inflicts more damage on the two villains than he does. Fucking Sheriffs, it’s always the same thing with those guys!

So this kid who just lost his father runs into Hannah in the forest and holy fucking shit if that isn’t every twelve-year old boy’s wildest dream! I mean, if my old man woulda had to get offed for me to meet up with Angelina in the woods? I’m sorry Pop, but I ain’t gonna be twelve forever, yanno?

The ending is predictable shit. The bad guys get killed, the good guys win and Angelina is the only reason this movie wasn’t a complete waste of time.

Oh yeah . . I’m supposed to tell you there are spoilers in this post.

Da End

 

Joe Pesci Movie Review: Dangerous Lies

Lemme start by giving a great big middle finger thank you to Marco for finally finding the time in his scary busy blogging schedule for anotha one of my movie reviews. When he got around to calling me the other day, the cocksucker said it had just slipped his mind, can you imagine that? Slipped his mind . . . fucking guy!

Anyway, so he calls ta ask if I wanted to do a movie review and I was all excited because he’s been on a Jason Statham kick lately so I figured cool, I can watch that crazy fucking Brit kick the shit out of da bad guys for a couple hours. Oh wait, sorry. . I forgot I’m living in an age when people are offended by that kinda language. Shit, who am I kidding . . he’s a crazy fucking Brit!

Spoiler Alert: A certain asshole blogger who shall remain nameless told me I should include dis in my movie reviews, so as not to spoil tha movie for anyone who ain’t seen it. Whateva . . .

Well there ain’t no Jason Statham in the movie I watched. There ain’t a crazy Brit, or a crazy accent or even a crazy story line to get excited about in this predictable as fuck movie that felt as if da writers were kidnapped from that Lifetime channel. Yanno the one, where all the movies feel like commercials that Nicholas Sparks wrote? Fuck!

Basically, the story is about this chick who’s waiting tables until some guy decides to rob the joint. I had a big problem with this because I mean  . . who da fuck robs a restaurant? Shake down the owner? Sure. Torch the place when he stops paying up? Absolutely. But like, rob da place? For what? Eighty bucks and a bacon cheeseburger ta go? Amateur . . .

After this, the movie gets dumber than a bag of dicks. This chick is friends with some old guy who ends up leaving her everything in his will and get this . . da guy ain’t even banging her! And it’s a good thing he croaks, because ha boyfriend is majoring in “How to shit your pants in a job interview”. Turns out, he’s much better at spending the old guy’s money than he is at making his own. This chick has worse luck than my Aunt Rosemary, who once married a fashion designer because she wanted to get pregnant and well . . you probably know where I’m going with this . . .

So the chick and her degenerate boyfriend move right into the old guy’s house. It’s a big old house outside Chicago that hasn’t been updated since Richard Daley’s father was Mayor. I did a quick inventory and I figured I coulda fenced the contents of this particular abode for a cool million . . if I was in a hurry. So yanno . . these two stupid ass kids are loaded!

None of it matters because they can’t stay outta trouble. And get this . . they ain’t starting any of the trouble! After the old guy dies, they find a shitload of cash in the attic and they freak out . . as if that doesn’t happen all the time! Then they find diamonds in the old guy’s safe deposit box and they freak out . . as if THAT doesn’t happen all the time! Then they find a dead body in the garage . . as if THAT . . aww shit, you get da picture!

Thing of it is, they coulda been free and clear if they knew how ta read a hairstyle. Lemme explain. There’s this imbecile who shows up at their door early on pretending ta be a real estate salesman named Hayden even though his hair is obviously East New York hoodlum. It’s obvious this guy wants what they lucked into but instead of digging a ditch in the desert and getting rid of the pain in the ass, they become the suspects! I guess what they say is true, about youth being wasted on the dumbasses.

Anyway, in the end the imbecile dies, and so does the asshole boyfriend. Oh, and the lawyer for the old guy . . she dies too, after they find out she was part of the plot to kill him off . . . as if THAT doesn’t happen all the time! So everybody dies except for the chick. In da last scene, the detective comes by to say hello and the chick is very pregnant. She’s gonna raise the kid in the big house . . the one not named prison. So they spend a few minutes wondering where da fuck the diamonds went and as the scene fades to black, the water sprinkler shows us they’re buried in the garden.

Lemme tell you, that shit doesn’t happen all the time.

 

 

Joe Pesci Movie Review: Siberia

So I gotta start by saying what the fuck?! Keanu Reeves is a Canadian? I mean, when in the fuck did that happen? Because when I watched him in dose Matrix flicks, he was an American. And that movie about the bus where he ends up banging Sandra Bullock at the end? Yeah, I’m pretty sure he was an American in that one too . . .

Anyways, Marco asked me to do a movie review for Siberia, and it’s about time he asked me back . . da stupid prick! But he wasn’t doing me any favors as things turned out, because this movie was a more worthless piece of shit than my Uncle Tony.

Things start out okay, because here I was thinking it was a John Wick movie where someone kills his dog at the beginning and then he ends up taking out half of Russia. But no, this ain’t that. At all. It’s . . . what would Marco call it? It’s got more of that nuance shit that he eats up . . that I happen to find more pointless than patchouli, but be that as it may. I kept watching because I’m an asshole or something . .

Reeves plays a diamond merchant named Lucas who travels to Russia, because da guy can’t find a movie role that doesn’t involve fucking Russians. He’s in St. Petersburg . . . da other St. Petersburg, where he’s supposed ta hook up with this degenerate named Pyotr. But the guy ain’t nowhere to be found.

So now . . there’s this Russian gangster, which is fucking redundant since every Russian I ever met is a gangster. His name is Boris . . again, redundant. And he’s pissed ya see? Because Lucas, the dumb prick, got screwed ovah by Pyotr and so he aint’ got da diamonds . . and now Boris is gonna cut his balls off if he doesn’t fix this shit. Again . . redundant.

Lucas goes to Siberia to find this Pyotr douche bag. His first night there, he gets in a fight with some Russians that doesn’t go well, because he’s no John Wick. This hot numbah of a waitress named Katya, of fucking course, tells Lucas that her broda thinks they’re sleeping together so get this . . she asks him to bang her. Which he does because he’s not a total schmuck.

And dat’s it! Da rest of this fucking movie is Lucas looking for Pyotr and him banging Katya. Oh yeah, da wife of this Lucas guy? Molly fucking Ringwald . . . and I had no idea! Because you see her like once, and then she’s like, well go bang dis Russian chick if that’s what you wanna do, ya stuttering prick, see if I care! So Lucas bangs her . . like twenty times over the next howah. Evidently, he’s looking ta see if maybe this chick tucked the diamonds up her ass or something.

So Lucas’s trip to Siberia consists of banging Katya and going bear hunting with the guys who kicked his ass earlier in the movie. Fucking genius . . . I mean, who da fuck goes bear hunting with Russians . . outside of Dick Cheney?! And at some point, he finds out that Pyotr fucked him over and sold the diamonds.

Later on, Lucas decides to sell Boris some fake diamonds while wearing a wire because he figures it’s the only way he’s getting out of Russia. Of course, the only good ideas dis guy has are coming from his other head. He does end up finding Pyotr . . dead on a toilet. No diamonds . . .

In da last scene, Lucas gets into a shootout with a piece of shit rifle and somehow is able to kill all the guys who are afta him . . except the one guy he shoulda killed first, because he ends up killing Lucas. Which means he ain’t gonna be banging Katya for da hundredth time inside an howah and a half . .

Thank God

 

Joe Pesci Review: Remains Of The Day

Da Boss here at Sorryless has been breaking my balls lately, bringing in udda headlinahs to do my job. Can you believe this fucking guy? So he was gonna have James Caan come in for this movie review because he didn’t think I would find it interesting, the clueless prick. I hate to admit it but five minutes into the movie, I thought to myself that the asshole was right. I was ready to close my eyes and pray for a coma. Good thing I snuck in a bottle of Chivas and some gabagool.

Anyway, the story is about this butler named Stevens, played by the same guy who plays that psycho nutbag in Silence of the Lamb Roast. Only he don’t eat faces in this movie so what’s the use? He plays this boring as fuck butler, oh I’m sorry . . reserved boring as fuck butler at this place called Darlington Hall. Yanno why the British lost the revolutionary war to us? Because they were too fucking busy thinking up fancy names for their houses.

So Stevens, who’s about as exciting as a stale piece of Wondah bread, has a thing for this really hot chick named Miss Kenton. She’s played by Emma Thompson, who is a real piece of ass! But in this flick, she’s a prude. Oh, I’m sorry . . she’s a repressed prude.

This Darlington Hall place hosts a lot of parties and the people all have sticks up their asses. Oh yeah, and most of em are Nazis. In one scene that really pissed me off, they try embarrassing Stevens by asking him a lot of political shit. Instead of splitting their heads open, he pretends he’s as stupid as they say he is. What a pussy!

Since Stevens is such a limp dick, Miss Kenton gets another co-worker to bang her and later on, the guy ends up wanting to marry her. These British guys have no fucking idea when it comes to women; they either don’t do jack shit or they buy the ranch, what the fuck? So Miss Kenton lets Stevens know she’s getting banged by anotha guy and that this guy wants to marry her, only she doesn’t say it that way since she’s so delusional. No . . I’m sorry, she’s so demure. Fuggedabout it . . she ain’t getting a rise outta Stevens because his goal is to never get laid.

At the end of this movie, other than bringing me two hours and fourteen minutes closer to death, nothing happens. Stevens goes to see this Kenton chick and asks her to come back to Darlington Hall, but he still can’t admit to her that he’s always wanted to bang her. So . . you know how women are, she tells him she’s gonna stay with her husband because she finds Stevens about as appealing as a Ritz cracker you find under the sofa cushions. Only, she doesn’t tell him that at all because she doesn’t have ta, yanno? All she has to do is give him a look.

Stevens goes back to work and at the end of the movie he saves a pigeon that gets stuck in the hallway. The pigeon is symbolic of freedom, and you’re probably wondering how I figured that one out. Well, the pigeon gets freed . . just like me, because it means this sad fucking excuse for a movie was finally ovah.