The Social Network

2010 movie

Rating: 17/20 (Jen: 15/20; Dylan: 6/20)

Plot: In order to impress an ex-girlfriend, socially-inept computer genius Mark Zuckerberg steals an idea described to him by jocky twins and ends up the youngest billionaire in the history of money. He calls it The Facebook until a former member of 'N Sync tells him to drop the article adjective. But with the immediate success and the monies that it brings comes both personal and legal problems. Apparently, you have to be a real asshole in order to make a billion dollars.

Michael Cera was really good in this. The pacing is as quick as his character's cadence, and there were times I felt like I had to lean forward on the couch cushion a little bit to catch everything that he was saying. Was Zuckerberg a jerk? Absolutely, but he's a likable villain and even though the folks he screws over really didn't deserve it, Michael Cera plays Zuckerberg as a real guy instead of a burlesque. I guess it's easier to like a bad guy when he's intelligent and witty, no matter how much meanness is sprinkled in with that intelligence and wit. The script is quick and occasionally very funny, and especially for a movie that is so dialogue-driven, this never bored me. Not to say it doesn't have its share of tedious scenes. Almost every scene that took place in a club made me want to leave the room, probably the same feeling I'd have if I was actually in a club. Aside from the lead, I enjoyed the performances of Andrew Garfield as Zuckerberg's partner Eduardo, the always-surprising and immensely-talented Justin Timberlake as the Napster guy (he almost plays the character as a little evil gnome that sits on Zuckerberg's shoulder, whispering temptations into his ear), and Armie Hammer who I didn't even realize was one guy. Armie Hammer (what an unfortunate name) fooled me into thinking he was two people, like a burly Hayley Mills. Which reminds me--as a child, I had recurring dreams about a burly Hayley Mill chasing me around the lawn and threatening me with vegetables. I always had mismatched shoes in those dreams. Or, occasionally, mismatched feet. But I digress. Here's the most surprising thing about this movie and very likely any movie experience I've ever had--I actually enjoyed watching an Eisenberg on my screen. Yes, I know it wasn't Michael Cera. I really did like Jesse's performance, one that almost makes up for all the ways he's annoyed me previously. It does not, however, cover up his sister's sins. Eisenberg's got some sneaky layers here that gave his character some depth you wouldn't figure he had.

And now I notice that Armie Hammer didn't actually play twins. Somebody named Josh Pence played the other one in most scenes. I take back everything I said about Armie Hammer being the next Hayley Mills. He's still got a great name though.

Black Snake Moan

2006 drama

Rating: 8/20

Plot: A mentally-challenged whore and her mentally-challenged former-boy-band-member boyfriend make whoopee. The boyfriend immediately needs to vomit in a toilet; the whore's leg starts itching and she begins hearing things--somebody wildly playing the maracas, a train, crickets. The boyfriend white snake grunts and then runs off to join the army, only to return about a week later because he had to vomit too often. She sleeps with a round man and then goes to a party where she swallows about twenty-seven different types of pills and drinks a lot. The night ends with her boyfriend's shady best friend punching her several times and throwing her out the side door of his pickup truck. Samuel L. Jackson wakes up the next morning, black snake moans, and finds the whore and her magical underpants that never get dirty sprawled out on the road. He ends up chaining her to a radiator and making her listen to his terrible blues music. A couple days or a few weeks or a month or so pass and everybody lives happily ever after. Or they die. Either way, nobody really cares.

This goes for gritty but succeeds in only being really silly. The acting is bad, the script predictable, the story Hollywood. It's hard to believe that a movie that features Christini Ricci chained to a radiator in her underwear can be bad, but bad it is. Justin Timberlake is a terrible miscast. And is Samuel L. Jackson really on a roll or what? This and Snakes on a Plane in one year? Maybe he can star in a black Adam and Eve story and complete a snake trifecta. "It wasn't me, God. That woman made me eat of the forbidden fruit after that motherfucking snake gave it to her. Damn!" It's entirely possible that what I saw as heavy-handed moralizing was a little more light and tongue-in-cheek, but it doesn't really matter. An ugly, rambling loosey-goosey, self-contradicting, poorly-written, gooey and trashy movie. I felt insulted.

Interview excerpts with Son House that bookended the movie were cool.

My crotch took a picture of the rest of me watching Black Snake Moan. Here's the picture: