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CYRUS - Aka...Blinding or Castration is a better option than suffering through this movie!


By Lady Spamalot - Posted on 14 August 2010

Cyrus is the story of two people who meet and attempt to fall in love, but the woman has a grown son living at home who is determined to let no man come between him and his mom. Does this ring a mythological bell? Here’s a hint – think of a sexual dysfunctional complex that starts with an O and ends in a pus…that’s right – Oedipus!

Remember him? He killed his dad in self defense and then fell in love with his mom and had four children with her. Now, all this didn’t transpire at the dinner table, mind you. This was a twisted joke played on him over his entire lifetime by Fate. And Fate strikes again, promising to deliver a funny movie, but the joke is on the unsuspecting audience who is treated instead, to a pile of steaming shit!!

Granted, no father is unknowingly slaughtered, and while it was hard enough to imagine Jonah Hill as Marisa Tomei’s son, it’s just as impossible to consider John Reilly as her romantic love interest.

Seriously, how does one get past that hair? Or that face?

Let’s just go ahead and blind the casting director at this point.

But it’s not just the cast that makes you want to stick a knife in your eye. It’s the awkward social situations that string together scene after scene like stale popcorn tinsel on a Christmas tree. Seeing John dance by himself at a party with no one joining him until WAY after he should have stopped dancing; seeing John and Marisa make out; seeing Jonah in his underwear carrying a butcher knife; just seeing John in his underwear; seeing Marisa and Jonah wrestle at the park in front of total strangers; seeing Jonah and John wrestle at a wedding reception; the scenes just keep abusing the senses and making one pray to the gods for blindness, much like that recently blinded casting director.

I did laugh a few times, but that could have been due to nerves, as that I was on a second date. The first one had gone surprisingly well, so I was excited to be on a second one! For this outing, I picked the restaurant and he picked the movie. And how ironic he picks this movie about a single mother in the dating scene, no?

If he thought he was going to get lucky afterwards, he was shit out of luck. Not just the movie sucked, but he did too – he kept covering my eyes when Marisa and John were making out.

Who the fuck does that?

Oh, yeah, my fucking DAD, that’s who. Oh, yeah, and his small fucking hands smelled like cabbage. When I was 6. The carnival supervisor called and said that they needed him STAT. It turns out that THE GUY that gets blown by The Bearded Lady called in sick!

Paging Doctor Freud!!

Of course, actually seeing the aforementioned scenes caused me to gag a little in my mouth, but what was this guy thinking? He was funny? He was providing parental guidance? He was still in junior fucking high? I wish I could say he only did it once –but he did it every time. In light of such asinine, prepubescent-driven behavior, I no longer felt guilty that he had to fork over eleventy billion dollars for dinner, tickets, drinks and snacks.

Let’s just go ahead and castrate this asshole for picking this stupid movie and for being an idiot. Maybe if my date knew of the potty-mouthed trash that I regularly spew – on this here virgin forsaken website – maybe he would let me out of the romper room for toddlers where he assumes that I am kept before he picks me up to get me a balloon, get a snowcone and take me to the new Wiggles movie premiere.

Back to the review. To make the plot even more unbearable, John’s confidante is his ex-wife (who is trying to plan her wedding), but he keeps the verbal diarrhea hotline connected with her on all of his issues around Marisa and Son at all hours of the day and night.

Had her soon-to-be husband mule-kicked his ass and told him to "fuck off", then it may have added an element of humor seen in most John Reilly flicks. But alas, the audience is not treated to such. I don’t think even praying to sweet Baby Jesus could have saved this motion picture.

Instead, both she and her soon-to-be husband support his every co-dependent need - up to the day of the wedding. And he manages to fuck up their special day because of issues around Marisa and Son.

Surprised? Not even THIS audience was,either. And, a after a quick scanning of the patrons, this didn’t exactly appear as a reconvening of the Algonquin Roundtable. ALGONGQWHAT? You ask? Google it, you lazy, dumber than I am - mother fucker!

Anyway, for an hour and a half, this ovie mangled my cranium with its impossible coupling of Marisa and John; preached in Hollywood fashion about how relationships should work - as if they have any experience in that realm; showed both Jonah and John in their underwear (and yes, Marisa is shown in hers, too.

At least I think so…the fucker next to me had his hand over my eyes!!

In this case, the myth kicked ass - while the movie simply sucked…as did my date…

Figuratively, not literally, you sick Cretin Fuck!

Oedipus may have been blind to the truth of his own parentage – but he could see this piece of shit movie coming all the way from Athens!


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