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How Many People Do You Think Are Inside Of Ben Stiller Right Now: A Review Of The Trailer For “The Secret Life Of Walter Mitty”

How Many People Do You Think Are Inside Of Ben Stiller Right Now: A Review Of The Trailer For “The Secret Life Of Walter Mitty”

Welcome to Part 2 of Winston Blake Wheeler Ward and Jay Hansbrough’s review of the trailer for The Secret Life of Walter Mitty.

Unfortunately, Part 1 of the review has been redacted by the NSA due to a long and rambling editor’s note in which Jason Mallory explains how somebody ought to make a ring you put on your esophagus that’s like Mr. Fusion in Back to the Future II, except it converts food to pure energy and nutrients and nobody ever needs to poop again, and you can use the space in your stomach for robotic upgrades. When asked for an explanation, the NSA would only disclose that they felt the note “disrupted the flow of the writing,” and was too “forward thinking.”

The discussion also included Winston’s survival tips for the apocalypse that NSA agents deemed “so Raven,” and Jay’s recipe for pecan pie that the NSA classified as “so good it’ll make you want to slap your grandmother…and illegally monitor all of her public and private communications.”

So, technically, the following should be considered Part 2 of 1.

Night at the Museum: Battle of the Smithsonian

In Night at the Museum: Battle of the Smithsonian, Ben Stiller’s kid gets the floor plans of the Smithsonian’s underground federal archives from the Smithsonian website. I went to the Smithsonian website and didn’t see any links for “detailed maps to a literal treasure vault of our most valuable and important works of art”. I did see a link to their twitter account. Maybe they tweet the map? Find us on Facebook! Also, find our most priceless items and wander in whenever you please because our lowest level night watchmen have key card access to our underground bunker of artifacts and paintings. PS… no cameras! We literally leave the Smithsonian abandoned and unobserved for the night so Ben Stiller can run around with Amelia Earhart. Seriously. Your grandmother’s AOL email account is more secure than the Smithsonian at night. A rare diamond wrapped in a silk bow thrown into a hole dug in the ground and filled with hobos and pawn shops is more secure than the Smithsonian after the sun goes down.

The kid gives Ben Stiller directions over the phone for a few minutes and is never seen in the movie again. He doesn’t even show up at the end when Ben Stiller goes back to his job as the night guard and lets the general public in after dark so they can mingle with the magical museum displays that come to life. Not only has he decided to unveil a verifiable water-to wine-walking-on-water-Harry-Potter-just scored-ten-points-for-Gryffindor miracle to any man, woman or child who walks in off the street, but he neglected to invite his OWN SON to the grand opening of this colossal mistake and possible herald of the end of civilization as we know it and the dawn of the age of magic. If that kid doesn’t end up a museum arsonist, then I just don’t know how museum arsonists are made in this world. Other than beating him with a Magritte painting and giving him a pack of matches and saying, “Hey kid why dontcha go burn down some museums or something? With these matches.” Who is going around trying to turn kids into museum arsonists?! Carmen Sandiego, I bet.

When Owen Wilson’s little cowboy was trapped in an hourglass and hourglass sand was falling on his head, why didn’t he get out of the way? He just stood there and let sand fall on his tiny cowboy hat. Maybe it felt good like being in a hot shower. He didn’t really react to it at all.

Director: Okay, Owen Wilson, now in this scene you’re about to drown in hourglass sand. Your life is in danger. Of ending. Because of the drowning in the hourglass sand.
Owen Wilson: Yeah, sure. I’m just going to act really chill about it and not wave my hands around or scream or cry into my tiny cowboy hat.
Director: Brilliant.

Later, Owen Wilson is rescued by his Roman soldier friend. A Roman soldier rescues a cowboy from an hourglass. Sounds like a powerful metaphor, right? Or a scene from a movie that’s king of all the other movies. Bum ba bum bum bum! All rise for the movie that’s king of all the other movies! Please turn off your cell phones and melt them into the basic metals and alloys with which they were made. Now fashion jewelry out of them and present the jewelry to the movie that’s king of all the other movies. Now shut up. The previews are on.


The last time I watched a Noah Baumbach movie was with this girl I was dating who wasn’t that into me. One time we got really drunk and she said, “tonight is the night I’m going to invite you into my bed.” Ahh yes, I drunkenly thought to myself. An invitation into the bed. You are cordially invited, sir. Phil Collins “No Jacket Required” invited. Aaand absolutely nothing happened. I slept in my rumpled clothes. The next morning I caught a glimpse of her underwear clad butt Scarlett-Johansson-lying-on-her-side-in-the-opening-scene-of-LostinTranslation-style and thought, ‘well, that’s the last I’ll see of that.’ Then I walked home hungover and sad. Like Phil Collins “I Wish it Would Rain Down” sad.

So Greenberg (Ben Stiller) had a nervous breakdown and now he gets to stay in his brother’s really nice house, walk his brother’s big friendly dog and have sex with his brother’s improbably sexy young assistant who brings him whiskey and ice cream. Oh no, Greenberg! How will you manage?!

First of all, Greenberg is supposed to be facing the perils of aging, but he’s still a really good looking guy with all his hair. He doesn’t have a potbelly. He’s got all his cool hair. Looks to me like he won the middle aged lottery. Second of all, he talks all this shit to this beautiful girl and she still loves him and sleeps with him. Third of all, he’s supposed to have just gotten out of a mental institution but it must have been the most laid back insane asylum ever. Maybe he overheard someone at the Apple Store say, “it’s really crazy in here today” and took it literally.

Yesterday in the Apple Store I went to pick up a repaired iMac for my office and got halfway to my car when I realized they forgot to give me the power cable. So I went back in and said, “You forgot to give me my power cable!” This greasy haired dude with giant holes in the lobes of his ears who wanted nothing more than to escape me and my cable was all “well you can wait in line at the genius bar” and I said, “Hey- I’m not interested in waiting in line for something YOU forgot to give me.” So he went in the back and brought me a cable and I got back to the office and found the old cable which had been there the whole time, so now I’m going to take the extra cable and plant it in the ground and hope another iMac grows there. Or maybe a beanstalk that takes you up to the Apple Store that giants use.

But I have to admit Greenberg really hit home for me. I’m a grown man with adult friends who are having children and getting married as I while the days away playing video games and wearing t-shirts. I’m also notorious for refusing to drive anywhere, and wouldn’t you know it Greenberg has his friends drive him around everywhere. You might not get much out of it, but Greenberg for me was like looking ten years in the future if I don’t get my act together.

Unless that cable blossoms into a tree that grows Apple products. Then I’ll be set for life. I imagine Steve Jobs hanging out underneath it in a shining white toga. “Jason,” he says, “tonight is the night I’m going to invite you into my bed.” Nooooooo!