A fine and pleasant day to you, beautiful readers! Cara from Silver Screen Serenade here to once again destroy all that Eric Isaacs holds sacred while he is trapped in the Pit of Despair celebrate this glorious blogging contest we lovingly refer to as Shitfest. As I’ve done in the past, I’d like to take a minute to warn my sweet, innocent, pure-hearted readers that I will be striking a different tone over here—and by “different tone” I mean I will not hold back should I feel the need to use bad language. If that risks offending you, then turn back! Turn back now!
…Anybody left? Wait, what am I talking about? This is The IPC! There are a whole slew of you just waiting to hear what foul things I have to say. 😉
Before we get down to business, I want to address something important: there’s been some speculation that all of the darkness has gone out of Dark Cara, transferred instead to my hellish little friend, Miguel. Well, I am here to say: NOT SO, MOTHERFUCKERS. I am as dark as the dark side of the moon. I am as dark as vengeance and the night and motherfucking Batman. I am…like, really, really dark. Yeah. I guess you get it. Anyway, I may be trying to set a halfway decent example for my sweet terror, Miguel, but don’t think for a second that I’ve gone soft. Though, honestly, I don’t even know why I try with Miguel. Bro is out of control. I blame Eric.
But I’ve rambled enough. I’m not here to talk the woes of being guardian to a full-fledged psychopath—I’m here to review a thoroughly shitty film. First, a story:
Once upon a time in a small city surrounded by cornfields, there lived a young lady who was celebrating her father’s birthday. Like any good daughter would, the young lady got her father exactly what he wanted: a Blu-ray copy of a film she had never seen entitled “3 Days to Kill.” Also like any good daughter would, she agreed to watch said film with her father to celebrate his special day. But something went horribly wrong during the viewing of this film, for it was…it was…
Well, I wouldn’t wipe my ass with 3 Days to Kill. Now that you understand exactly how I got roped into watching this one, let’s talk about this many ways in which this is so fucked up and God awful to watch.
#1: It’s a shitty rip-off of Taken.
A European setting? A middle-aged, badass ex-agent? A bitchy, estranged wife? A dumbass daughter? HMMM SOUND FAMILIAR??? Creativity points to writer Luc Besson, who wrote the screenplay for Taken. And Taken 2. And Lockout. And three Transporter films. He sure does know how to step outside his comfort zone.
#2: Kevin Costner is an asshole.
Okay, maybe Kevin Costner isn’t an asshole, but his character kind of is. He is basically Liam Neeson’s character in Taken–a shitty father/ruthless killer pining after a normal life with his ex-wife and daughter. But he lacks all of Neeson’s likability because he’s gruff with pretty much everyone save his stupid ass family. I mean, the dude even gets a death sentence from cancer at the beginning of the film, yet I gave zero fucks.
#3: Hailee Steinfeld is an asshole.
You thought the daughter in Taken was a dumbass? Wait’ll you meet this chick. I mean, at least you eventually pity Maggie Grace’s character in Taken, even if you do think she’s a reckless idiot in the beginning. But Hailee Steinfeld’s character starts an idiot and stays an idiot. I know she’s a teenager and not wise about the world and blah blah blah, but after homegirl almost gets raped in a bathroom, you’d think she’d exercise caution. NOT SO. She continues to act like she hasn’t got a care in the world. Face, meet palm.
#4: Amber Heard serves no purpose (in this movie as well as in general).
Okay, so maybe she serves a purpose for the masses of slobbering dudes who demand eye candy in an action flick, but Amber Heard’s stone-cold bitch character is just dumb. She clicks around in her high heels with her wigs and expressionless face and it’s just annoying because you know she’s only there to be hot. Oh, and to try to get in Kevin Costner’s pants. Because that’s what all of us 20-somethings REALLY want to do–bang old men. Thumbs up for giving old dudes that fantasy, Hollywood. The young women of the world truly do thank you.
#5: It tries to be funny and fails miserably.
Honestly, this is the most baffling, fucked up thing about this movie–the weird ass tone it strikes. It’s absurd, and Besson seems to assume that absurdity equals hilarity. Nah brah. Let me try to explain how this works by using an example: Costner’s character tosses some poor asshole in the trunk of his car like 19,000 times, and it’s kind of played like it’s supposed to be funny. Maybe it would be, but then Costner goes and threatens to kill the dude’s family. I mean, what the fuck?! Are you trying to be funny or deadly serious?! There are about 7.5 million other examples of this awkward, unfunny humor in the film, but I won’t torture you with the details–although I’m sure Besson would find it hilarious if I caused you that pain and then proceeded to threaten to electrocute your loved ones. HAHAHA AMIRIGHT?
#6: The sickly sweet perfect ending made me want to strangle kittens. (Sidenote: I would never actually strangle a kitten. That’s fucked up.)
SPOILER ALERT (if you care). So Costner saves the day, gets his lame ass family back, and even gets some miraculous drug to take care of his cancer–a drug that requires him to load up on vodka every time he takes it…I mean what kind of fucking medicine is that?? Clearly, doctors were not consulted for this film. But really, was anyone consulted about this film? Did Besson just take a dump, find this script in the toilet, and say, “Why the hell not? Call Kevin fucking Costner and tell him he’s getting his own Taken!” That’s my theory.
To end this rant, here are a few things I’d rather do than watch this again:
- Eat shards of glass
- Beat my head against a wall until I go into a coma
- Watch the first 10 minutes of Up on a loop and sob until my soul comes out through my tear ducts
- Watch Nicolas Cage play every role in a Shakespearean drama
- Free Reek—erm—I mean, free Eric Isaacs from his enslavement in my basement
- Make Fran Drescher’s laugh the soundtrack to my life
- Saran wrap myself to a rampaging bull
I could name other things, but I’ll restrain myself. Anyway, that about wraps things up and—what’s that Miguel? Dude, no. This is my review. You had your chance to send Eric something, but then you spent all that time on a Golden Girls marathon, so—hey! What the fuck are you doing with those gardening shears?! God damn it, Miguel, don’t make me get out my shanking knives…Sigh. Fine. Because he’s being a huge diva about it, here is Miguel’s very short review of 3 Days to Kill:
BURRRRRNNNNN. BURN ALL THE COPIES OF 3 DAYS TO KILL. LIGHT A FIRE THAT REACHES THE GODS. LIGHT A FIRE THAT HIS MOST HOLY LORD ERIC THE IPC CAN SEE FROM THE WILDS OF OKLAHOMA. BURRRRRNNNNN, FIRRRRREEEEE, BURRRRRRRRRNNNNNNNNN!!!!!!!!!!!!
…Um. He…he really likes fire. We’re working on those issues.
Anyway, for those of you I lost somewhere in this lengthy rant, here’s all you need to know: 3 DAYS TO KILL BLOWS CHUNKS. Don’t buy it. Don’t rent it. Don’t think about it ever again. And you’re welcome.
SHITFEST 4 EVAHHHH!!!!!!!!!