When It Rains Clichés, It Pours

Recently I was starting to write something about the new remake of the 1981 film, Arthur, which is about (to quote Wikipedia) “a spoiled, alcoholic New York City playboy” that inexplicably was even more successful that the creepy voyeur fantasy, 10,¹ despite the presence of Liza Minelli and theme music by Christopher (“I voiced the hair dryer in Pixar’s Appliances!”) Cross.²

The 2011 remake stars Russell Brand, who I find surprisingly effective—even appealing, in a dangerous reprobate kind of way—in his other roles I’ve seen. My guess is, funny trailers notwithstanding, I’m going to find the remake even more tonedeaf than the original.

Has narcissistic alcoholism even been less cute, funny, or appropriate? Not that I’m on a moral high horse, I’ve just spent too much time around these types in reality to find them entertaining in film. And I believe the practice of drunks getting behind the wheel will never be universally condemned so long as we laugh at it, if the drunk is sufficiently charming. (You know, if I were a kid, I’d want to emulate Russell Brand’s Arthur, hilariously drunk-driving the Batmobile. Wouldn’t you?) I’m way past the point in my life where sharing the road with someone’s rolling cocktail party seems like a risk I should have to take.

While I may still write even more puritanical (possibly hypocritical) screed about Arthur, old and new, I have reservations. I’ve seen the original, but only the trailers for the remake. Some time ago, I wrote here about the Rolling Stones’ Shine A Light film, acknowledging that I hadn’t seen it, focusing on my speculation about the film, based on a few of the musical guest star tracks I’d heard. I’ve since seen the film—it bore out a lot of my reservations, while being more entertaining and gorgeously shot than I expected. Still, I don’t believe making a practice of reviewing music, books, movies—anything that I haven’t heard, read, or seen—is a good one.

I don’t believe I should Maxim my reviews or comments.

Remember 2008? (JAG answers, “Barely, and only as fragmentary retcon flashbacks.”)
The turn-it-up-to-10 creepy lad’s magazine, Maxim, fessed up to “reviewing” a Black Crowes’ album on the basis of a single track. There were also allegations from Nas that the magazine had given a 2.5 star rating to an album of his that, not only had the magazine’s staff not heard, he hadn’t even finished.

So, another of my clichés in the making:

Maxim (e.g., “to Maxim,” “I Maxim-ed it”): To write a review based on incomplete/no exposure to the work being reviewed. To draw conclusions based on minimal, if any, information.

Like all the others, I anticipate seeing it in wide use, the soonest.

¹ No, at the time I saw it in the theater, when it was new, the slow-mo beach scenes of Bo Derek in 10 most likely did not offend me. In the context of Dudley Moore’s stalkeresque dirty old man, it sure bugs me now, if it didn’t then.

² More about Chris (“I voiced the air compressor in Pixar’s Junkyard”) Cross in my oft-delayed, thoroughly unanticipated “Itchypoo Park” post. Real soon now.

³ About my preoccupation with footnotes, it may seem merely annoying; once you know it’s a symptom of my unrequited desire to be a professor, it’s kind of more a cause for pity, isn’t it? My abuse of dashes, something I just can’t account for.