The thing I hate about Christmas, other than spending all that time with my family and having to be sober for at least part of it, is all the awful movies that come out over the holiday weekend.
For every True Grit, you’ve got Little Fockers and Gulliver’s Travels. And, to add insult to injury, please don’t forget that somebody made a Yogi Bear movie and it opened last weekend.
So why am I not watching Little Fockers? For the same reason I didn’t watch Meet the Parents and Meet the Fockers, because fock Ben Stiller, that’s why. (You see what I did there? Because their last name sounds like a swear? Ah ha ha ha, it’s still not funny, Hollywood, you bastards.) But seriously, why is this even a franchise?
And Gulliver’s Travels as a vehicle for Jack Black. Now there’s a phrase that strikes dread into my heart. I know there must be people out there who think Jack Black is great, but I don’t know who they are and I kind of hate them anyway. Jack Black is like take everything about Will Ferrell and make it fatter, and there you have it.
Family movies. Goddammit.