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ARGO – Aka…So, Apparently Bryan Cranston Didn’t Have Cancer And Wasn’t Selling Meth

By Old Dan Cedar - Posted on 14 October 2012

First of all, I would like to apologize for my lack of reviews over the past couple of months. Your good friend, Old Dan Cedar, has been under intense radiation and chemotherapy to treat what was once thought of as a benign, irrelevant anal polyp and had turned into to a malignant pain in my ass. I strongly considered following the Breaking Bad formula for success, but dismissed it…considering that I am basically a pussy and don’t care if I die.

Luckily, I was able to hire a Shapiro to have this Kardashian-obsessed polyp extricated from my anal cavity.

Providence, and Morons have set forth that this has been a typical year for movies of the last generation; either some egg-headed Cohen Brothers type of story without a third act (King Hippo’s specialty)….the random, non-ending, ending where the audience is left wondering…WTF? This accounts for 2% of total movies to apply for Academy Awards nominees.

Then there is the 97.8% of the rest of films that are geared towards the morons.

Yes, the same morons that will account for those whom believe and elect politicians. Let’s say you’ve paid for and watched more than one of these quasi-adult marketed movies: The Avengers (you get a pass on this if you watched it for Scarlett Johannson’s tits), The Dark Knight Rises, The Amazing Spider-Man, Ted, Men In Black III.




Which brings me to the 0.2% of the remaining movies.
And what you SHOULD be spending your money on…ARGO!!

It’s a great story, with witty writing and without CGI histrionics.

I won’t go through the whole fucking story with you. I will tell you it’s intense, with humor and a fucking Third Act.

Which, for you inane masses means what? Anyone? IT HAS A FUCKING ENDING.

This doesn’t mean that the night was perfect. I was accompanied by my heterosexual partner Bibs Detroit to the haughty Sundance Theatre in town.

Was it expensive? Yes. Was it crowded? Yes. Was there any semblance of the need for the patrons to talk to the movie screen? NO. Why? No Riff and No Raff.

Could I get some decent food (Chicken Quesadillas)
(with an attached cup of guacamole and another attached cup of salsa)? Yes. Was I able to order me a Double Knob Creek and Coke served
in a real glass? Yes. Was I able to sneak out and get me and my bride two glasses of red wine halfway into the movie? Yes.

Sounds too good to be true, huh?

Well, yeah…except the intensity of cheering for the group of Americans trying to escape from Iran surrounded by the Islamic trash that still rule that country was too much for my life partner to take.

Bibs…is of Italian (WOP) descent. So, she perpetually talks with her hands…Oh, yeah and her mouth.

The first 45 minutes of the movie she is whispering explanations of each of the historical figures are that are appearing on screen….”That’s Jimmy Carter”…”That’s that scumbag Ayatollah Khomeini”…”That’s a young Ted Koppel”…"That’s Walter Cronkite”…”That’s Bryan Cranston…he’s such a great actor”…”I LOVE Breaking Bad”….”That’s Ben Affleck…he’s hot.”

It was at this point that I finally said, “Honey, I am a movie critic and actually lived through the late 70’s. Would you like another glass of wine and can I clear off this food?”

“Yes, I will have a glass of Malbec. “

As she handed me the food in an awkward manner…which I have no doubt was my fault…a large amount of salsa and guacamole spilled down my shorts, legs and socks.

After a 20 minute cleanup in the bathroom I brought us back two more glasses of wine and quickly swallowed my second Xanax of the night.

I was greeted with, “Wow, was there a long line?”

My spoken answer was, “No, not really.”

My inner monologue was, “No, I had to go to the restroom, so that it didn’t appear that one of my testicles had a bloody implosion and had to wash my socks in the sink. Now…what the fuck did I miss?”

The intensity of the story continued to ratchet up and Bibs started squeezing the ever-living shit out of your humble reviewer’s hand.

Eventually, I was able to ply my hand out of her death grip to swig down the rest of my $9 glass of wine.

It was at precisely this moment that she decided that the on-screen Americans were in grave danger of getting captured by the unkempt Mullah lovers. This led to my wife’s gasps of “Oh, my God….Oh, my God!!”

And the inevitable hand talking….which of course…led to her empty glass of wine being accidently and violently flung out of its cup holder…clanking off of the back of the 78 year-old woman’s seat sitting directly in front of her.

And, of course, the three minutes of apologies to everyone within six rows of us.

Bryan Cranston plays the assistant deputy director of the CIA, Jack O'Donnell, who is the boss to the agent (Ben Affleck) who puts in motion an outlandish plan to use a fake movie production of a film called "Argo" to help six Americans escape from Iran during the hostage crisis in 1979.

I am going to assume that if you are still reading this review that you know who both of these guys are.

The story is taught, tense and tidy.

Not to be confused with the disheveled look that I was throwing down upon leaving my Highfalutin, Hundred-Dollar Movie Theatre.

In closing…to paraphrase a line in this film.

Go see this fucking movie, Argo fuck yourself!!

Dan Cedar

5 Naybobs

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