James Franco steals a super-smart baby chimp from his lab! He takes the chimp out to a state park for the first time and the chimp holds his hand out and looks down. James Franco takes this to mean the chimp is taking a submissive pose and asking for permission to climb the trees, but actually it is customary to tip your monkey when you bring him to the woods for the first time.
In which Jason and Kristina of Knuckle Salad discuss the trailer for the movie “The Hobbit: An Unexpected Journey.”
J: Wow, the trailer for The Hobbit has all kinds of stuff going on it. Pigs in harnesses, dwarves with spider webs in their beards, threadbare antique furniture—it’s essentially the video for the Nine Inch Nails song “Closer”, if Trent Reznor had eaten second breakfast on his eleventy-first birthday. The dwarves in this movie are short, hairy and have enormous ears. Looks like there’s going to be some a cappella dwarf singing as well. I usually feel uncomfortable if someone starts singing in front of me without musical accompaniment, but the other dwarves just put down their pipes and start singing along like the cast of Glee, if everyone on Glee was my grandfather.
The Starship Enterprise has a new crew and it’s going on its maiden voyage! Captain Kirk and Scotty and Chekov are there visiting, but the new captain makes them sit in little plastic chairs over by the wall like they’re waiting on their girlfriends to get done shopping at Anthropologie. Later, the new captain emerges with a cute scarf and a pewter spoon with an owl on it.
In which Jason and comedy writer Ben Arnold discuss the trailer for the movie Prometheus.
J: In space, no one can hear you scream. Which is why it is so difficult to get ice cream in space. I mean, I screamed, you screamed, we all screamed for ice cream. And the void of space was indifferent to our collective calls for sweet iced cream. Now gelato on the other hand—very easy to get in space. You can’t throw a moon rock in space without hitting a gelato stand, usually with some kind of gloopy tentacled monster trying to sell you a mint raisin sorbet. Speaking of gloopy tentacled monsters, looks like there’s a little space trouble happening for the characters in Prometheus. There are a ton of shots in the trailer of people looking dismayed in space helmets.
In which Jason and Kristina of Knuckle Salad discuss the trailer for the movie “New Year’s Eve.”
J: First of all, it’s evident that we’re going to see some handsome men in New Year’s Eve attire with white scarves casually draped over their shoulders. Is that even warming their bodies at all? If I was the inventor of scarves, I’d be spinning in my no doubt yarn-lined coffin. And then my scarf would probably get wound around my skeleton throat. Unless the inventor of scarves is still alive. But maybe he still sleeps in a yarn lined coffin. This is a pretty dark way to start this review of the trailer for New Year’s Eve.
A woodcutter named Claus goes out in a blizzard and nearly gets himself killed trying to deliver a bag full of toys to the village children. He and his wife eventually get lost and succumb to the cold, clutching a sack full of carved wooden horses and dolls with yarn hair. Looks like the Dolly Parton Country Christmas Special is going to need a new set dresser.
In Limitless, Bradley Cooper plays a failed writer who takes magic pills and becomes a genius. For a movie that’s supposed to be about a writer and a man of godlike intellect, this movie actually seems to hate writing. As soon as Bradley Cooper gets his smart pills and doubles his brainpower, he ditches writing to play the stocks. “So long, dumb book I’ve been laboring over for years!” He might as well throw his laptop out the window and hit some willowy bucktoothed nerd in the retainer with it.
Oh man, and then there’s the montages of Bradley Cooper spouting off “smart” things in front of amazed onlookers at parties and bars. It’s like watching Superman’s halfwit clone Bizarro give a speech to an auditorium full of RealDolls with diplomas from fake online universities stuffed into their cleavage.
Not to mention Robert De Niro, as a powerful businessman, is supposedly very impressed with Bradley Cooper’s stock choices. He arranges a meeting, and Bradley Cooper says, “Uh…orr…me use algorithms. Stocks?” Then he dips his tie in a sippy cup of apple juice and puts it in his mouth. Robert De Niro is like, “Okay, you drive a hard bargain.”
There’s a scene in Limitless where Bradley Cooper seduces a woman in a nightclub by speaking different languages and quoting Shakespeare. Now, I know you wanted to booty dance to Young Jeezy, heavily made-up nightclub lady, but how about a few choice selections from the Bard of Avon instead?
This guy is supposed to be the living incarnation of man’s untapped mental potential, and he spends all of his time trying to live the shittiest life possible. He seeks out dumb women to have sex with, and bends over backward to impress insufferable rich white people. For anybody with above average intelligence, being around people obsessed with money and leisure is like biting down on a dunce cap made of tin foil. But Bradley Cooper’s character acts like getting some Wall Street jerk-offs and generic hot girls to think he’s awesome is like biting down on a dunce cap made of filet mignon and blowjobs.
Anyway, there’s this whole big thing at the end about how Bradley Cooper didn’t earn his power, and how you need to temper intelligence with experience, and how he’s actually limitless now that he has both. Which would have been a thoughtful way to end the movie. Except in the same scene, he diagnoses Robert De Niro with a heart condition by putting his hand on De Niro’s chest and detecting a serious cardiac problem through a layer of clothing. I understand that it wouldn’t make sense to ask Robert De Niro to get topless just to impress him with your ability to use your hand as a stethoscope, but even a goat chewing on the hem of a backwoods hillbilly doctor’s combination overalls and lab coat knows that you can’t use your fingertips as a Holter monitor.
Unless the goat is chewing on Limitless pills, and then he’ll treat any medical ailment with a tin can and hubris. That’s it, everybody. Limitless!
On the same night a duplicate Earth is discovered in our solar system, a beautiful young woman is accepted into MIT’s astrophysics program, so she gets drunk to celebrate and smashes her car into a family of three. Damn, wonder what would have happened if she’d only gotten into beauty school.
The woman goes to jail and gets out four years later. She becomes a janitor at a high school. For a sci-fi movie, there are a lot of scenes of her cleaning up bathrooms and hallways. I don’t even think the movie The Help had this many shots of sweeping and mopping.
She finds out that the father survived the car crash, and he’s a composer. Also, he’s not just any old composer from your community college for dummies, he’s from Yale. So you can put away your sheet music for Evanescence’s “Bring Me to Life,” he’s not interested.
She drives out to his farmhouse and pretends to be a maid offering cleaning services. He hires her to pick up all his empty booze bottles and wash his filthy dishes. He also wears more knit hats than Evan Dando at a Matthew Sweet convention.
Then they become friends! Meanwhile, a woman named Dr. Joyce makes first radio contact with the other Earth. And there’s another Dr. Joyce on Earth-Two that sounds exactly like her. The Earth-One Dr. Joyce decides to quiz the Earth-Two Dr. Joyce in case she’s a filthy liar or a Mynah Bird with an intergalactic communications device.
She’s like, “What souvenir did you get from Cape Canaveral as a kid?” The Earth-Two Dr. Joyce says, “Space strawberries.” And then Earth-One Dr. Joyce holds up a piece of paper that says SPACE STRAWBERRIES, which is also the safe word for Jane and George Jetson’s BDSM play.
The composer and the woman fall in love, so he takes her to an auditorium and plays a wood saw with a violin bow. She is really turned on by this so they have sex. To be fair, if he’d played a cigar box banjo, she only would have given him a blow job.
She wins an essay contest and the prize is a seat on the space shuttle going to Earth-Two. The name of the company that is launching the shuttle is United Space Ventures. Before United Space Ventures, space ventures were really disorganized. You didn’t know if you were going to Jupiter or the Avatar planet or the Wookiee Planet Kashyyyk. And then a billionaire was like, these space ventures are all over the place, let’s roll up our shirtsleeves and get these goddam space ventures united. The composer freaks out and says, “PLEASE DON’T GO TO SPACE!” and the girl is all, “Uh…I killed your whole family.”
Anyway, the girl gives her ticket to the composer so he can go to the other Earth and see if his family is still alive, and if so, play his weird wood saw song for them. The girl meets her doppelgänger from Earth-Two, and the doppelgänger is wearing a stylish pea coat, so you just know she hasn’t been vehicular manslaughtering any families. Credits!
Atlanta stand-up comedian Tony Jenkins and professional magician Rich Aviles guest. Topics include upcoming films Puss in Boots 3D, Melancholia, The Mighty Macs, Charlotte Rampling: The Look, and Elevate. Also discussed: treating the Suicide Girls website like a comedy club, a synopsis of the very first Puss In Boots film from 1904, better names for Earth-destroying planets, and being too cool to meet Shaq.
In Insidious, a couple moves into a new house. But then one of their kids falls off a ladder and goes into a coma. A haunted coma! The doctor is like, “It’s not really a coma, he just won’t wake up and also has all the symptoms of a coma. But it’s not a coma. Because of ghosts, I guess. I have no idea why I went to medical school.” Pretty soon, the wife starts seeing ghosts in the house. Also, a demon who looks like Darth Maul from Star Wars. The Darth Maul demon appears behind a chair in their dining room and scares everybody. Now they know how George Lucas’s maid feels.
The husband stays at work late because he can’t get a moment’s peace with all the ghosts running around this house. The wife convinces him to move because she doesn’t want to live in a haunted house. But after they move, she sees more ghosts in the new house! She’s like, “Damn it ghosts, what are you doing here?! I mean, you have the ability to travel between planes of existence and move freely between the lands of the living and the dead but I thought if I put four city blocks and a Dairy Queen between us you’d never figure out where we lived! I hate you, Google Maps for Ghosts!”
The husband and wife bring in a psychic lady and she says the kid is haunted because he astral projected too hard and now all these dead people want to steal his body. Although the ghosts seem way more interested in jumping out and scaring people than actually trying to possess this kid. Get your act together, ghosts! There’s not even a dreamcatcher over his bed. If his body was any more receptive to a ghost being inside of it, he’d be making pottery with a shirtless Patrick Swayze.
Then the psychic reveals the husband used to be able to astral project and tells him that a dead lady tried to steal his body when he was a kid. The psychic is like, “Here’s a bunch of photos of you when you were little with an old woman’s ghost in the background. We kept them in a shoebox all these years because we figured the first photographic proof of life after death in human history belonged in a closet somewhere. Go fuck yourselves, scientists and religious scholars!” The father astral projects himself into the land of the dead and has a staring contest with the dead woman from his childhood photos. “Hey old lady, stop staring at me and trying to get into my body!” he yells. Now he knows how Madonna’s personal trainer feels.
I guess if there’s a lesson to be learned from Insidious, it’s that you should never astral project your soul too far into other planes of existence, because dead people want to wear your skin. Thanks for the tip, movie! I bet Ann Landers is stomping her feet in heaven right now wishing she’d been the one to give out that advice. And also wishing she could steal our living, breathing bodies, apparently. The end!
You know that thing where you feel like it’s too late to watch a movie, because you have to get up in the morning and clean out horse stables at the racetracks or whatever, but then you end up watching seven straight episodes of Sons of Anarchy, and then four Futurama episodes you’ve already seen at least three times each? The whole process takes six hours, and keeps you awake until 3 a.m., but hey, at least you didn’t watch that movie or you’d sure be tired today, and then the other stable hands would be all like “Look at Mr. Tired Shovel with the droopy eyes!” Then you get called Mr. Tired Shovel all the time and they dump buckets of old apples on you, and then you’d have to quit your job. That happens to me at least once a week.
Did that last paragraph seem scattered, poorly written and frustrating, yet full of delightful imagery? BAM! You just got sucker punched by a review of Sucker Punch. Turns out, Zach Snyder’s (Watchmen, 300, Man of Steel) new flick, Sucker Punch, is full of jaw dropping scenery, insane genre-based action, and a script that I can only assume was written via Ouija board or refrigerator magnet words. It’s like The Changing Light At Sandover for the mentally challenged. Look it up.
Sucker Punch brings the A game when it comes to action, and that game is worth watching. From 30 foot samurai-bots to steampunk Nazis and spaceship based train heists, Snyder summons up all of your adolescent archetypes and makes them do battle with young school girls armed with swords and assault rifles. Unfortunately, the epic battle scenes only make up about 30% of the movie. The remaining 70% is crammed full of sloppy writing, awkward sexuality, and frequent yelling. It’s like getting a handjob while watching Jurassic Park III. Sure, no one likes hand jobs, but I’ll take what I can get, plus: dinosaurs.
[Editor’s note: Many people prefer hand jobs over dinosaurs. For example, Jeff Goldblum.]
SPOILER ALERT: Okay, so here’s the plot in a nutshell: A sexy orphan (the best kind) gets locked in an insane asylum for sexy orphans by some sort of evil uncle/stepdad/Monopoly man character. The asylum’s rehabilitation methodology features a combination of dance therapy and full frontal lobotomies, administered via the steely icepick of Jon Hamm, travelling lobotomist. To escape from this hellish world of music/icepick therapy, our heroine, Babydoll, reimagines the place not as an asylum, but as a stylish and abusive whorehouse. No idea why that’s better. I would have probably gone with something like Alpine ski lodge or beach house, but that’s why Snyder makes the big bucks and I write articles about movies and handjobs for an online magazine.
So for reasons that remain unclear to me, these fancy hookers have to recover some items at the behest of a very bad David Carradine stunt double. They run around going into dance based trances and generally being little monsters to everyone in the asylum. They kill some Nazis, smash some windows, do a bit of stabbing, a whole lot of shooting, and a fair amount of grunting. Ordinarily, I would either tell you what happens in the end, or make some elusive reference that you would get once you see it, but frankly, I have no idea what happens. Either Babydoll gets some old fashioned brain surgery from an inappropriately sexy Jon Hamm, or she doesn’t and something else happens.
What matters here is this: If you like watching scantily clad sexy women pilot spaceships, kill steam-filled Nazi-bots, heist trains, fight ninjas and occasionally do some pre-ballet practice stretching, this movie is going to fill you with delight. If you prefer movies with complex characters, painstakingly crafted dialogue, and any sort of plot whatsoever, this probably isn’t for you. [Editor’s note: And if you like scantily clad sexy women reciting painstakingly crafted dialogue, you are probably Philip Seymour Hoffman.] The End!
Robin Williams is driving a little wooden boat around on a lake in Switzerland. He’s wearing a really thick sweater. Seems like that sweater would just drag him down to his watery grave if he fell into the lake. Then he crashes his boat into a pretty lady’s boat. Instead of capsizing and dying a soggy woolen sweater-related death, he goes on a picnic with the lady. “Soon.” the sweater thinks to itself.
Robin Williams marries the boat woman and they have two children with androgynous haircuts. His wife runs an art gallery so she has a haircut like He-Man. “By the pageboy of Grayskull! I hang the paintings!” Then their children get killed in a car wreck. Then Robin Williams gets killed in a car wreck. He is survived by his wife’s bangs and his sweater.
Then Robin Williams goes to Heaven! Everything is made of paint because he loves paintings so much. I love macaroni and cheese but I don’t want to live in a house made of it when I go to Heaven. Also, his dog is there. Even though Robin Williams gets to fly and run really fast and manifest physical objects with his thoughts, his dog has no special powers and has to keep being a regular dog. Maybe the dog is in dog purgatory. He probably rejected dog Jesus but lived a good life anyway.
Cuba Gooding, Jr. shows Robin Williams the ropes in Heaven. Robin Williams asks him if there’s a God. Cuba Gooding, Jr. says yes, God’s up there “shouting down that he loves us and wondering why we can’t hear him.” An affectionate hobo with laryngitis on some scaffolding might have that problem, but God can probably make himself heard whenever he wants.
Turns out whatever Robin Williams’s wife paints on Earth appears in his Heaven because they are soul mates. So he sees a tree that she painted come to life and bloom flowers. Good thing for him she doesn’t paint Tijuana bibles starring Scrooge McDuck or Harry Potter/Draco erotic art. Guess that’s the kind of thing that shows up in R. Crumb’s Heaven.
Also, Robin Williams won’t take his trenchcoat off in Heaven. With all the lakes and clouds and dripping paint it looks pretty humid up there. He’s got to be burning up in that thing. Then he meets a beautiful Asian woman. She takes him to a steampunk beach where everyone wears lace and flies around. Apparently they’re flying away to help people be reborn as babies on Earth. Hey, I’m here to help you become a baby! How? I don’t know, but look at my crazy parasol! And I got some goggles and a top hat! Now go get in a vagina!
There’s also steampunk dudes riding penny-farthings wearing white gloves. Where are you guys going? To the art-collective bicycle co-op to drink PBR! Then a mermaid flies up out of the water into the sky. I don’t want to tell you how to do your mermaid business, but the whole reason you have fins instead of legs or wings is so you don’t have to take to the skies. Grass is always greener I guess.
Then the hot Asian woman tells Robin Williams that when she was alive she overheard her father say Asian women were “lovely and graceful” so that’s why she looks Asian in Heaven. Then she reveals she’s actually his daughter. Here’s a tip— if you’re going to be giving your dad the “welcome to Heaven” tour, don’t choose an appearance that gave him a boner when he was alive.
Back to Robin Williams’s wife on Earth. She’s eating frosting and contemplating suicide. That Hieronymus Bosch painting over her bed probably isn’t helping. Let’s see, I’ve got 400 thread count sheets, a white noise machine and an enormous depiction of the souls of the damned being devoured by bird headed demons. Mr. Sandman, bring me a dream!
Cuba Gooding, Jr. tells Robin Williams his wife committed suicide and he can never see her again because suicides go to Hell and nobody has ever brought a suicide back from Hell before. Robin Williams is still wearing his trenchcoat. They go to Heaven’s library to get a “tracker” to find his wife. They find Max von Sydow floating in the air reading a book and wearing a fur coat and flamboyant hat. Guess he’s reading up on how to dress for The Players Ball.
They take a boat to Hell through a crazy storm and a bunch of dirty naked people come up out of the sea and surround them with arms outstretched. Must be what it’s like to be in front of the Michael Franti and Spearhead stage at Bonnaroo. Then Cuba Gooding, Jr. reveals he’s actually Robin Williams’s son. Robin Williams must have mentioned that Snow Dogs gave him an erection at one point when he was alive.
Max von Sydow and Robin Williams find his wife in a filthy Hell version of their house and Max von Sydow says Robin Williams has three minutes to talk to her and after that he’ll go insane, like the five second rule for food, if every time you ate a dropped piece of toast you had to look into a soul-destroying void of madness and depravity. Which is actually how the Little Miss Sunbeam bread logo was created.
Anyway, Robin Williams refuses to leave his wife’s side even though he knows he’ll lose his mind in Hell. You know what else he refuses to leave in Hell? His coat. Anyway, his sacrifice saves his wife’s soul and they both go to Heaven. What about all the other suicides in Hell? Oh, sorry— you need a spouse or loved one to risk their sanity on your behalf in order to leave Hell. What’s that you say? Your life of loneliness and inability to find someone to love you drove you to suicide in the first place? Get back in the fire, loser!
Ultimately, What Dreams May Come was a beautiful movie with gorgeous visuals and flawed logic, unless you’re the founder and CEO of Burlington Coat Factory, and then it’s a triumph of the human spirit. The end!
It’s a little early to name the best movie of the year (hint: it ain’t Green Lantern), but it’s not too early to name my favorite movie of 2012. That would be Battleship, the naval action spectacle based on the popular Hasbro board game. With a cast that includes Liam Neeson, Brooklyn Decker and, uh, Rihanna, how could it go wrong? And did I mention the plot? According to the good folks at Wikipedia, it’s about an “international navy fleet engaged in a very dynamic and intense battle against an alien race .”
Sounds just like the popular game we all grew up with, right?
Now that we’re putting everyone’s favorite childhood memories on the table, without fretting over such inconvenient details as, oh, say, what they were really about, I have only one question.
Where do I sign up?
Don’t get me wrong. I’m not just looking for a cheap buck—although if Hollywood comes calling, I’m not going to turn my nose up at any tractor-trailers carrying bags of cash with dollar signs on them, like in those old Scrooge McDuck comic books. No, sir. If movie studios are eager to cash in on my childhood, then I have an obligation—nay, a duty—to offer my assistance. After all, as a perpetual adolescent who’s been 15 for more than 25 years, I’m their target audience.
Without further ado, here are my suggestions for pillaging strip-mining capitalizing on those favorite toys of yesteryear.
Army Men: This one’s too easy, since the video game industry has already provided us with the template: a series of games about molded-plastic combat troops doing battle against giant real-world backdrops (flowerbeds, workbenches, etc.). Forget the games’ backstory and just get to the money shot: tiny little soldiers waging bloody war across a typical suburban home, from the kitchen to the backyard.
During WWII, an elite squad of Allied soldiers (including Dennis Quaid, Bruce Willis and Brendan Fraser) infiltrates a top-secret laboratory to stop the Nazis from launching a teleportation device. Something goes horribly wrong, and Axis and Allied troops alike are transported across time and space to the home of little Timmy Burrows in Wilmington, Delaware. Oh, and they’re now like an inch tall. And throw in some cowboys and Indians while we’re at it, just to spice things up. Picture a cavalry regiment flattened by a car tire, or a mad German scientist played by Ralph Fiennes—the troops’ only hope of returning home—snatched up in the jaws of a giant housecat! It’s got franchise—and Oscar—written all over it. You know, like Lord of the Rings.
Barbie: Who else but Gwyneth Paltrow could portray this glamorous fashion model, teacher, doctor, homemaker, astronaut and President of the United States? And who else but Bradley Cooper would fill role of her love interest, vapid male model turned football star turned Wall Street trader Ken? It’s a romantic comedy, a medical drama and six different action movies rolled into one. Will their love survive the crash of the stock market, a triple heart transplant, and a terrorist attack during the Super Bowl? You’ll have to wait for the sequel.
Hot Wheels: Picture the Fast and the Furious franchise or the Smokey and the Bandit movies, without all the bothersome plot and attempts at acting. Picture dozens—no, hundreds of the sleekest, meanest machines ever built, let loose across the highways of this great land for two hours of car chases and spectacular explosions. Done! Next?
Sea Monkeys: An oil drill destroys an underwater city of humanoid fish-men, prompting all-out undersea war—in 3-D! It’s got an environmental message—like Avatar, except underwater! Liam Neeson is the lord of this ancient aquatic civilization, with Amy Adams as his impudent daughter, who falls in love with marine biologist Shia LaBeouf. The guy who plays Gollum needs to be in there somewhere, too. I think it’s a law.
Slinky: Nuclear scientist Kevin James activates a new supercollider poised to create a brand-new, clean, renewable source of energy. But oily Vince Vaughn sabotages the experiment so that his company can continue to profit from our dependence on fossil fuels. Hey, maybe it’s the same company that destroys the sea monkeys in the other movie! Anyway, the supercollider becomes a giant perpetual-motion coil of doom that, um, slinks across the country, destroying everything in its path! Alcoholic President Tom Arnold sends a team of specialists—Arnold Schwarzenegger, Joseph Gordon-Leavitt and Zooey Deschanel—to stop this helix of atomic death from… well … spiraling about. Who cares how they stop it? It’s got property damage! Explosions! And let’s add a bit of gratuitous—I mean, tasteful nudity. You know, for the foreign markets.
Spielberg, call me! And mail the checks to me care of this website.
This review contains spoilers and cursing, but not necessarily in that order.
Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows Part 2 starts off with Harry Potter, Ron and Hermione at Dobby’s grave on the beach. And they gave him a little tombstone! It says, “Here Lies Dobby, A Free Elf.” Seems like there’d be a lot of Muggles at the beach. If Harry Potter and his friends are trying to keep the wizarding world a secret they probably shouldn’t bury an elf that close to Jimmy Buffett’s Margaritaville Cafe no matter how free he is.
Then Harry Potter breaks into Bellatrix Lestrange’s vault to get a golden cup that Voldemort put a piece of his soul in. Voldemort sure does like putting his soul in ornate lockets and elegant drinkware. Maybe instead of trying to rule Hogwarts he should be a manager at Barneys New York. Also, Helena Bonham Carter is the worst as Bellatrix Lestrange! She overacts being evil so hard she makes Skeletor look like Sir Laurence Olivier playing Richard III.
Harry, Hermione and Ron break into Hogwarts to tell Snape to get the fuck out. Snape flies away in a puff of black smoke. Seems odd that all the evil wizards have to trail a cloud of smog behind them just because they serve Voldemort. Thanks a lot, “He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named”. I love spitting out black fumes every time I fly to wizard Target to get some Claritin and toilet paper. Do you think just once I could get from Point A to Point B without looking like a chimney sweep’s ghost is fucking the smoke monster from LOST in the middle of the sky?
Speaking of ghosts, Harry has to convince the ghost of Helena Ravenclaw to tell him where Voldemort hid a tiara that he also put his soul in. Man, Voldemort loves gaudy jewelry. He’s the Joan Rivers of dark wizards! Helena Ravenclaw does a lot of heavy breathing for a ghost. Calm down, lady— you don’t even have lungs! The last time a ghost hyperventilated this hard Boo Berry cereal was discontinued.
Then Voldemort kills Snape so he can use the Elder Wand, which is the strongest wand in the history of wizard kind and still sort of belongs to Snape because of the whole murdering Dumbledore thing. Apparently if you kill or defeat a wizard, his wand becomes loyal to you. First of all, that’s the opposite of loyal. Loyal would be helping the wizard not get defeated in the first place, not hooking up with whoever wins the fight like some hoochie mama watching rednecks brawl in a Sonic parking lot at one in the morning.
Anyway, before he dies Snape asks Harry to collect his tears in a bottle because the tears contain Snape’s memories of thirty-odd years of getting cock blocked by Harry’s father. Harry’s father seems like a real jackass. All he did was bully Snape and hang out with Lupin and Sirius Black, who were much cooler and far more interesting. And when Voldemort showed up to assassinate Harry Potter, Harry’s father was really easy to kill. Voldemort probably murdered him with an Avada Kedavra Curse while he was reading Wand Polish magazine on the toilet, which is either the most boring wizard magazine or the most pornographic. Meanwhile, Harry Potter’s mother was busy deflecting killing curses from “You-Know-Who” and unwittingly filling every vault and safety deposit box in Snape’s spank bank with reasons to go on living in his business of being the loneliest, bravest character in the entire series.
Snape doesn’t even get to be in the circle of Harry Potter’s dead friends and family who wish him well before he goes to face down Voldemort. Well, he only dedicated his entire life to keeping Harry Potter alive and ensuring the entire planet wasn’t enslaved by evil wizards despite his painful unrequited love for Harry’s mother that haunted him every waking moment of his life. Even in the afterlife the Potters are too cool to invite Snape to hang out with them. He should find a more appreciative family to protect/lust after/stalk.
Finally, Ron and Hermione kiss, Neville Longbottom turns into a badass and Harry Potter kills Voldemort with the Elder Wand. Then Harry breaks the Elder Wand in half and throws it in a river. That’ll teach you to be loyal, wand. Thanks for saving my life, good riddance!
Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows Part 2 is my favorite of the Harry Potter films, due to the gorgeous visuals, excellent pacing and superb acting of Alan Rickman, whose nuanced performance as Severus Snape made Sir Laurence Olivier in Richard III look like Skeletor in Sir He-Man the II. The end!