Last Friday night I suggested renting a movie. Bent over my Carnival Princess Necklace, www.thetotetrove.etsy.com, with the bf's beloved Discovery Channel droning on in the background, I was in need of some comedy. If you've been following this blog, then you probably already know that nonfiction television (the news included) depresses me beyond measure. To me, it's the equivalent of spending a sunny Sunday in a musty old museum. Or maybe even the equivalent of Sunday afternoons themselves, as I don't much like those either. But I digress.
We narrowed down our movie choices to The Bounty Hunter, Hot Tub Time Machine, Date Night, and Death at a Funeral. Well, I narrowed it down. If I'd left the bf to it, then we'd be dealing with secret missions and gratuitous bleeding. As it were, Death at a Funeral was the only option he could stomach at the time, so we went with that. Based on a (reportedly stodgy) British film of the same name, Death featured an all-star cast including Chris Rock, Martin Lawrence, Tracy Morgan, Danny Glover, Loretta Devine, James Marsden, and Luke Wilson, among others. The trailer had been hilarious, so I expected to be choking on hiccup-induced laughter. But it didn't happen. I think it was one of those cases of too many big stars in one movie. Also, all of the best jokes were revealed in the commercials. (Don't you hate when that happens?) What was left was a lukewarm jumble of confusing plot twists. That having been said, Tracy Morgan was the one standout. He just has that comic gift of getting all upset about the pettiest, most ridiculous of situations to the point where everything coming out of his mouth is hysterical. James Marsden was another high point, as I'm never one to knock him going shirtless. Even if he was the (sort of) bad guy in The Notebook.