I banged my 200th broad yesterday. I know, I know, I fucking rule. But, not to get all sissy on ya, after a while, after that many chicks, they just sort of bleed together. Then I run into them in Safeway and don’t really recall their name or what their vagina looked like.
I mention this as a point of reference for people who complain about movie critics. “Why do reviewers have to be so cynical? It’s just mindless entertainment! I didn’t go into that movie wanting to see Citizen Kane.”
Well, the typical review is cynical because, as you’ve guess, they’ve slept around with a lot of movies. They get all up in that cinematic snatch and try to purge all memories from the experience afterward. Honestly, it makes for a shitty reviewer. They get so wrapped up with a film’s problem that they often forget where the film’s actually aiming. There’s a huge difference between what a film wants to be and what a critic expects it to be.
It’s true, not all film’s want to be Citizen Kane. Some films, films like Age of Rock, just want to you sit back, enjoy, and forget your daily problems. Yet, unlike most of these “bad” films, Rock of Ages has a sincere vein running through it that makes it almost startling to watch; so innocent, so devoid of cynicism, it’s a blast of fresh air in these jaded times.
Now, make no mind, that doesn’t mean it’s a good film. It’s remarkably bad. But its intentions are so pure it almost becomes an endurance test on how long you can hold out singing along.
The film centers around that Mormon Chick from Dancing with the Stars. She moves to Los Angles to become a big diva star, on a bus, no cash to her name, meets an oddly feminine love interest almost immediately, you know the drill. You’ve seen every plot in this film a million times, done better, done correctly, but Rock of Ages manages to rise above just by being an un-ironic Little Engine that could.
Part of this is attributed to the supporting cast, the actual actors that haven’t been on Dancing with the Stars. Mrs. Michael Douglass is so emphatic and energetic I expected her to literally eat some of the scenery. Mr. Ex Katy Perry lightens every scene with a witty verbal jab or two. Mr. Ex Kim Basinger is a little rough belting it out but does his usual swinging dick impression. Really though, the whole belongs to the fifteen minutes Mr. Ex Nichole Kidman flies across the silver screen.
His role as a drugged out rocker, covered by hot naked chicks, and wearing a studded dragon cod piece is so specific I wonder if any acting was actually involved. I could actually see the casting director just calling him up and asking him to show up. The only real change to his life is replacing the Chick from Dawson’s Creek with a monkey.
So, will this movie change your life? Nope. Will you bop to the bop of the bibbity beat? Yes. In fact, I suspect time will be fairly kind to this one and it’ll gain a cult following. It’s absolutely one I will forget until ten years from now when it ends up on FX at midnight.
I will stay up to watch it.