I just got back from spending my Christmas Eve at the movies with Stacy.
First of all, there is something very wrong with that sentence. Christmas Eve is meant to be spent eating Chinese food and watching the Muppet Christmas Carol in my parent's living room, next to the fireplace and the Christmas tree, not in a movie theatre. It is not meant to be spent in a Frank Theatres (I shit you not) watching a movie that should have been called "Inappropriate and the Makeshift Family Reunion" instead of "Margot at the Wedding".
Whoever gave this movie a decent review is a) deranged or b) too embarrassed to admit that, like the rest of the world, they just didn't get it.
What was it about?
Why was Jack Black crying?
Are the neighbors vampires?
Why doesn't that kid wear deodorant?
What made Nicole Kidman do this movie?
The world will never know.
Seriously, I don't think that I have ever before said at the end of a movie, "What the hell was that even about?"
No idea, folks. None. And now I'm sitting here in my home sweet Residence Inn by myself listening to the timer on the fake fireplace as I stare at the pathetic tabletop Christmas tree my mom decorated today.
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