I’m trying to watch this Clint Eastwood marathon the other night (the good classic stuff: The Good, the Bad and the Ugly, The Outlaw Josey Wales, a little High Plains Drifter) when my wife comes in and is like, “Steel Magnolias is on.” Really? That’s amazing! Where’s the remote?!
Now, it was very hard for me to hold back what I really think of that movie, so I just told her what a screaming piece of shit it is. Naturally this started a, shall we say, discourse. My general thesis was that you couldn’t get me to watch that dreck again if you stapled my eyelids to my forehead.
The only thing — the only thing — I’ll give that movie is Dolly Parton. She can really do no wrong, so I give her a pass for starring in the movie equivalent of whatever your dog gacked up this morning. All the carrying on in that movie, “Oh, Weezie! Oh, Shelby!” Oh, shoot me in the face. I was rooting for Julia Roberts’ character to croak. Sorry guys, but that accent was killing me.
Now, if you want to see a good movie that deals with the untimely death of a beloved daughter, you gotta go with Terms of Endearment. Yeah, yeah, no e-mails guys. I know it’s a “girly” movie, but I defy you not to tear up when (spoiler alert!) Debra Winger bites it at the end. I defy you. She just loved those kids so much. Sally Field, as well-liked as she may be, can’t hold a candle to Shirley MacLaine. Shit, my girl Shirley outshines her in the aforementioned piece of donkey dung that my lovely wife prefers.
Anyway, enough of that. If you want to see some quality filmmaking, I suggest you skip all that chick flick cry-fest crap and check out any of the fine films in the Clint Eastwood oeuvre. I have to give special props to his old westerns. You just don’t get any more bad-ass than that.