Drew Barrymore Must Die

Well, at least her pattern of making saccharine fluff. It's not all bad though, just some of it. She has been at the helm as executive producer for her production company, Flower Films, for two gems. Donnie Darko and Fever Pitch are movies that I enjoy repeatedly. The Jekyll to her Ms. Hyde however, has given us Charlies Angels 1 and 2 (partially saved by the sultry Demi Moore and late Bernie Mac) and the movie I endured in the name of love last night.

He's Just Not That Into You is the epitome of what I dislike in Hollywood. The problems are marketed as real life (they aren't), yet the characters and the settings are as stereotypical (they are) as Mexicans mowing my lawn. Did you know that Africans all live in huts with livestock running everywhere? Asian women dress in the quirky way 12 year old girls find charming and gay people only work in design departments? That's what this movie taught me in the breakup and consoling montage portion. The sets are straight off the showroom floor from Crate & Barrel and everyone is dressed like an Abercrombie model.

This is the quandary with Barrymore and the movies she pushes out into the public. Some are very good, the others are candidates for the yawn olympics. Her movies and their consistency are as big a tease as Ivy. Indeed, I felt as uncomfortable as Tom Cooper last night.

The cast of characters reads like a Rolodex of beautiful people. Ben Affleck, the ever bland Jennifer Aniston, Jennifer Connelly, Scarlett Johansson, Ginnifer Goodwin, Bradley Cooper (Zach from The Wedding Crashers), and the guy from the Mac vs. PC commercials. I understand no one wants to pay ten bucks to see a guy like me on a 40 foot screen, but give me a fucking break. My friends and I a pretty homely looking. No one has a modeling contract, and nobody's dad looks like Kris Kristofferson.

The biggest problem I had with this movie? Other than the insipid story and it's ability to tie a bow on each situation like a Brady Bunch episode? The soundtrack. Yes, that's right. Each time I am bamboozled into seeing a movie like this, it is littered with music I absolutely love. "Can't Hardly Wait" by the Replacements and "This Must Be the Place" by the Talking Heads are two songs that just about made me jump up and leave the theatre. You simply cannot do this. Injecting good music into a bullshit movie is against the rules.

The night wasn't without an interesting social commentary. I couldn't have picked a better place for us to view this film. I figured since our dinner choice was near the Country Club Plaza we would go to said outdoor shopping center out of convenience. My common sense forgot to remind me that it would be a madhouse, full of people that I spend my days making fun of. Too worried about their looks, their clothes, their cars and who they surround themselves with to give them time to reflect on what is real in the world, man. A tad over dramatic, I know, I was kidding. Mostly. But we did walk out of the theater and into reality where not much had changed from screen to street.

When I go to the Plaza I'm generally ok with it. However when I'm leaving I always feel relieved that I'm exiting that place. For those unaware, it is the apex of an interesting dichotomy here in Kansas City. It lies just south of Midtown where heroin and crack addicts are seen lining outside of blood banks for extra scratch and north of a gentrification project that would make Malcolm X froth at the mouth. Most interesting to me, is that east and west are as polar opposite as ebony and ivory. Literally.

To the west is Ward Parkway, land of estates and castles. Johnson County which was and still is the landing pad for white flight in our city is also fixed where the sun sets. To the east is the most dangerous neighborhood in all of Missouri and Kansas. At least according to an expose recently published in The Kansas City Star. More murderers from this particular zip code are behind bars than any other postal stop in the Show Me State.

Here is where you can see $50,000 motorcycles line the block as their middle aged riders sip cappuccino while a street performer dances 18 hours a day for your spare change. Kids that play soccer and wear khakis on the weekend meet kids who know someone who has been murdered or is in prison. It is a visual orgasm for even the most casual people watcher.

The movie is not unlike the region of town we were in last night. It's fake and unrealistic. People will list it in their top five things to do in Kansas City, but it's a lie. There is no real culture there, no real landmark. The Christmas lights, which kills me how this city fawns over them, are a joke. It caters to people who reside in the top of the financial food chain, which is fine, I have no problems with this. It does however trap people with less I.Q. points than what is in their bank accounts. Not much difference though. Constantly watching people trying to fit in and please the people that could care less about them is like watching a sheep in wolves clothing.

This post will come off as snarky, conceited and display my inferiority complex. That's fine. Saying that, people in general will prove me right every time. I heard no less than five conversations leaving the theater where people would say "Oh my God, that is so true. The movie was so realistic, it's just like my life." And that is the problem. It's not. Your life is not like that. My life is not like that. The theater was not the only thing doing plenty of projecting last night.

This is why Drew Barrymore must be stopped.