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SEVEN POUNDS - Aka…Seven Pounds of Shit

By Abzug - Posted on 22 April 2009

One word to describe this movie…BOOOOORRRRRING!

This is definitely the worst Will Smith movie yet. And that bar is being raised ever higher with each passing month. I understand that he was instant money for several movies in a row, but I can’t believe this one has a chance. Will plays a supposed IRS agent and official “good guy”. That, my little numbskulls, is called an OXYMORON. The over earnestness of his character is nauseating and boring as hell! This movie is two hours long…two damn hours!


The only glimmer of hope in this movie is co-star Rosario Dawson. Super, super hot even with heart disease. If she needs a stint –your humble reviewer, Pappa Abzug, is legitimately offering to put her under my scalpel.

Even with the babe factor …still dragging.

This movie grinds and grinds like the repetitive, nearly indistinguishable, guitar chords and lyrics droning through a Ronnie James Dio concert (circa 1978). The do-goodness is sickening (maybe that is why Rosario is struggling with the heart disease). Or maybe it’s just all of those Moo Burgers she choked down her pregnant ass in Clerks II.

However, I bet the mass movie goers were crying like babies with all the chicks saying to their significant other, “hold me, please hold me”. And we, being the gentlemen movie-goers that we are, do so, on just the hope of the nipple making an appearance by night’s end.

Spoiler Alert I - This is your typical story about a man driving home with his hot wife conversing happily about the giant rock he just provided her, checks his blackberry, swerves on to oncoming traffic and kills six people. The guilt ensues, he decides to 86 himself and give away the organs.

I am just betting that the god fearing crowd is totally moved by this movie. Hey, you hypocrites, do us all a favor and when you get into your F-250 on the way home from the theater and you’re weaving in and out of traffic – flipping off every non-rifle-toting peacenik with an Obama sticker on their car – You were just hugging and weeping with that, “We are the World” or “Kumbaya” Fuck – 15 minutes earlier in this god-forsaken mess of a tear-jerk off!! Oh, yeah, and how about when you do hit a pedestrian that is jaywalking. Stop and render aid!! And yes, it DID have something to do with the 14 empty beer cans found by Adrian Monk rolling around in the back of your pick-up.

Don’t be a Kennedy and speed dial your high-priced DWI attorney while devising your defense theory that the “sleep medication” that you were prescribed by Anna Nicole Smith’s Bermudan physician affected your senses, and that, oh, yeah, you will be entering a detox for the next 6 weeks until the 24 hour news cycle has picked up on the fact that the president’s kids just nagged President DaDa into selective-servicing a new pet fish named HOPE – for the White House!

Spoiler Alert II - Smith is planning his suicide because he did something bad earlier in his life and is giving back his 7 pounds of flesh to make up, by donating to seven really good people. Evidently, none of these seven had any modicum of knowledge on making a gripping drama that exceeded the weekly expectations that TV stars, Gary Coleman, Dana Plato and Todd Bridges brought to their true-life struggles of a middle class family on Diff’rent Strokes.

Maybe this is the kind of catharsis that Ms. Plato was trying to achieve when she turned out her own lights. I’ll bet she has no better insight into this Seven Pounds of Shit after seeking Sigmund Freud’s perceptions while dropping some of the best acid in heaven.

But the good news is that it couldn’t have sucked any worse - and she has all of that free time to kill.

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