The Canyons: lower your expectations, even if they are already low.

Warning: This review is lousy with spoilers, but it’s fine. You’re not going to watch this movie anyway.

First of all, let me say that I sometimes like Bret Easton Ellis’ work. Not always, but I get that he’s satirical and “post-empire” and when he’s not being a self-righteous d-bag, he actually has interesting commentary on society. So I hoped that his screenwriting would be a plus for this film.

Second, Paul Schrader directed The Canyons. Though his directing career hasn’t been epic, he wrote Taxi Driver and Raging Bull. So you’d think he had a handle on this film-making thing.

Third, if I don’t like something, I usually stay quiet out of respect for the artist’s vision and all that. And I know sometimes the story in your head doesn’t end up on paper so I try not to be overly critical. But I just can’t freaking help this one. The Canyons left me with a lot to get off my chest. Maybe because I went into it with the attitude that it couldn’t be that bad. Movies are rarely as awful as the critics claim. But it is that bad, you guys. It really is.

It's not porn because I only show my dong once.
It’s not porn because he only shows his dong once.

The first scene is painfully boring. It’s a conversation between two couples, Christian (James Deen) and Tara (Lindsay Lohan), and Ryan (Nolan Funk) and Gina (Amanda Brooks). Christian is a producer or something and has recently cast Ryan in a film as a favor to his assistant Gina since Ryan is Gina’s boyfriend. And because Tara insisted that Ryan was just perfect for the role. Whatever the hell that role is, or what the movie is, or any of that shit, no one knows because none of that seems to have anything to do with the plot. And this is the scene that sets up the entire film.

This opening snooze-fest conversation centers on Christian announcing to the table that he brings people over to watch him have sex with Tara, and to sometimes to have mini-orgies. Because that’s dinner conversation in the canyons, my friends. There’s lots of time on smartphones, then there’s a close up of a lime being squeezed into a cocktail.

Opening scenes work best when both main characters spend most of it on their phones.
Opening scenes work best when both main characters spend most of it on their phones.

Okay, so Tara is living with Christian who is a spoiled trust-fund baby wanna-be filmmaker who only dabbles in filmmaking to keep his dad off his back so he doesn’t lose his trust fund which allows him to live in ridiculous luxury and debauchery. I guess his dad is some sort of Pablo Escobar type figure. Because art.

We soon learn that Tara is doinking Ryan behind Christian’s back because they used to be in love but she couldn’t take being poor anymore. Bartending and going to auditions was just too taxing for her, so she moved in with a spoiled douchebag who sometimes makes her do it with other dudes and sometimes chicks, but hey, she doesn’t have to hold down a job.

Christian knows something is going on so he constantly interrogates Tara, then tells her he trusts her. And her hair extensions are TERRIBLE.

Then Christian tells a gay producer to tell Ryan his part will be recast unless he sleeps with him. Why? Not sure. I guess to see if Ryan swings both ways, or to see how desperate he is to keep his part. But that question is never really answered, because who really gives a shit by then?

Also, Tara (Lohan) sun bathes a lot but she is as pale as talcum powder. Do they make SPF 1000?

This is how she spends her days. Every single worthless one.

There are lots of shots of abandoned movie theaters. I’m sure it’s supposed to be some metaphor about how films have changed, and to justify Schrader’s Kickstarter campaign to get this festering turd made. But really the abandoned theaters can also be a metaphor for what happens when Lindsay Lohan and James Deen get top billing in movies.

At least they don't have to screen The Canyons.
At least this place doesn’t have to screen The Canyons.

This girl named Cynthia who Christian still has sex with sometimes confronts Tara to tell her that one time Christian roofied her and had her gang-raped on camera. So that’s why they still hang out, I guess.  Also, Cynthia knows that Ryan and Tara used to date, but Christian does not.

It turns out that Cynthia’s story was a lie, because that’s super helpful for rape victims, you dumb bitch. And she did it because she wants Christian back, who really is a waste of resources. I mean, seriously, there’s a water shortage in California. Nobody should be sharing water with Christian.

And then there’s a four-way where Tara turns the power tables on Christian which is supposed to be erotic and important to story development but really it’s just kind of gross. Then we learn that Christian’s dad also requires him to go to therapy in order to keep his trust fund.  His therapist is Gus Van Sant, because WHY NOT? So he tells Gus Van Sant that he didn’t enjoy losing his power during group sex. Boo hoo, pervert.

The disco lights let you know that it's about to get FREAKY!
The disco lights let you know that it’s about to get FREAKY!

Apparently, Christian’s a psychopath or some shit and really needs that therapy because he totally murders Cynthia for lying about him. He goes all stabby-style while she screams, “Christian, NO!” Then Ryan calls Cynthia right after it happens and Christian picks up and says, “I can’t believe what you did to her, dude.” So obviously Ryan drives straight to her house and leaves his mark on the crime scene, instead of doing something crazy like calling the police.

He always looks this confused.
Ryan always looks this confused.

Tara wants to leave Christian. He says she can as long as she provides him with an alibi for the time he spent murdering the yoga mistress. He also says that if she ever sees Ryan (“if you’re ever even in the same room with him again”) he’ll kill Ryan and get away with it. Because, you know, white rich privilege and all.

This dungpile ends with another boring dinner scene. This one with some rando actress telling Tara that she heard about her from Christian, but then she asks Tara how Christian is doing.  Because that makes sense.

By this time, Tara is with some other dude and they just got back from Dubai, where Tara “shopped and laid out” like the slutty sloth she is.

So the rando chick goes to the bathroom at the restaurant and calls someone who we assume is Christian to give the Tara update, but is actually Ryan because the next shot is him staring hauntingly at the camera. Maybe not so much hauntingly as blankly as in “wait, what was I supposed to do here?”

The point it that two men are obsessed with Tara, a woman with bad extensions who chain smokes and shops all day. And really doesn’t seem to do anything else except lots of sexing.

The movie would have been better if instead of Christian murdering just Cynthia, he murdered everyone in the movie and then committed suicide. It would have been fine, because every single character was so underdeveloped that vapid seems to rich a word to describe them.

3 Broke Girls

Lindsay Lohan guest-starred on this week’s episode of 2 Broke Girls. She hasn’t seen the episode yet because she’s terribly busy getting wasted at Coachella. (Stop claiming to try, Lindsay. People CAN SEE YOU.)

In case you didn’t see the episode, here’s a recap:

First Max made a boob joke because that’s her thing. Soon followed by an STD joke because that’s her other thing.

Lindsay appeared with a string of jokes that made it clear that her character is spoiled. By the sound of her prematurely aged voice, I’d say she accidentally smoked her comedic timing.

Then Caroline made some jokes about not being rich anymore because that’s her thing.

There was a butt stuff joke from Lindsay, then Sophie made a joke about waxing her “downstairs eyebrows”.

So Lindsay played a bride-to-be who kept changing her mind about her wedding cake. If you think this concept doesn’t sound funny, you are correct! Caroline and Max finally made her perfect cake, then Caroline’s arm went through the cake on the subway on the way to the wedding. They stuffed it with Styrofoam and covered it with fondant. (Sorry for the spoilers.)

Flo from the Progressive ads appeared as the wedding planner. Then Max worked in a molestation joke. Then Lindsay made a herpes joke.

Fast forward to Lindsay taking off from her own wedding. Then Max put on the wedding dress because this was supposed to ensure that they got paid for the messed-up cake. Insert yeast infection joke from Max, then she walked down the aisle. Lindsay reappeared and got married. Then Lindsay decided she might be into chicks.

One of the running gags was Lindsay and her fiancé both saying “babe” way too much. It wasn’t funny the first time, second time, or the ninety-seventh.

I think I have the 2 Broke Girls formula down. Here it is: boob joke + STD joke + pube joke + joke about their short Asian boss + joke about losing money + molestation/pedophilia joke + boob joke + sex joke + STD joke + drugs joke = twenty-two minute script.

I’m beginning to think that we all over-estimated Lindsay’s potential. I admit that the material from 2 Broke Girls wasn’t the best, but the talented Kat Dennings and Beth Behrs make the most of it. Lindsay didn’t have an authentic moment the entire episode. Was she ever really great in anything? Mean Girls is an awesome flick, and Lindsay did a good job in it. But her supporting cast was brilliant. Maybe we need to consider the possibility that her performance was a fluke. Perhaps that was her shining moment, never to be duplicated.

Meanwhile Lindsay is reportedly blaming her reality show on OWN for ruining her chances at a comeback.

Sure, Lindsay. Oprah is totally to blame for your ruined career. Stick with that story.




What’s up?

I recently discovered that we have Vevo. My time is being sucked down a rabbit hole full of Alice in Chains videos. I’ve crawled out to catch up with my Goats (I’m trying out nicknames for my readers. I figured Goats is preferable to Cows. Thoughts?).

I learned two days ago that Gloria Vanderbilt is Anderson Cooper’s mom. The fact that I didn’t know this completely strips me of my pop culture professor title. And as a dear friend pointed out last night, I’ve also lost points from the gays. I promise to work even harder to regain your trust.

We’re still playing ‘is he or isn’t he a he’ with Bruce Jenner’s rumored sex change. The Daily Mail has reported that Bruce has selected the name ‘Bridgitte’ as his lady name. Anyone who reads the Daily Mail knows that it’s slightly more accurate than interpreting your dog’s poo for news. So maybe he’s a Bruce and maybe he’s a Bridgitte. Either way, he or she stopped being relevant in or around 1986.

The third season of ‘Girls’ just finished, and I’m not feeling too optimistic about the future. At least half of the season was spent on the friends infighting. I know that young women can be catty and mean, but these chicks are horrible to each other. None of them wants any of the others to enjoy a shred of happiness. It’s a collective of miserable people, and the parts that made it funny have disappeared. My vote for funniest grungy chick friends show has been shifted to ‘Broad City’.  I hope ‘Girls’ can recapture the honesty and humor that made it a great show in the first season. But I’m not sure if I can stick around long enough to find out. Who am I kidding? I’ll give it another season.

The Lindsay Lohan documentary series (or as I like to call it, ‘The Show About That Girl We Stopped Caring About Five Years Ago’) on the OWN Network has experienced a ratings drop. It’s been beat out by ‘SpongeBob Square Pants’ (that’s not a joke). I haven’t watched the Lindsay show, but my friend Melodie has. Here’s what she had to say: ‘From now on I’m going to pretend it’s called LINDSAY! and not boring old LINDSAY like it really is. If anything needs the added pizzazz of an exclamation point it’s a show where you just watch a Troubled Starlet sift through her storage containers and pretend to be inspired by meditation cards.’

Thanks for catching up with me. I have to go now. Vevo has a selection of Hole videos that are calling my name.






We’re Over, Lindsay

I mean it this time. I can only take so much. I’ve always been in the background cheering for you, waiting for you to get it together and be the star we all know you can be. No, the star you should be. But this time, honey, I’m done. I’ve put with at least thirty-two arrests, all those coke-snorting pictures on the Internet, you insisting you should be allowed to take Adderall in rehab even though you should actually be in jail and not in rehab at all, I Know Who Killed Me (that broke my heart, Lindsay), and Liz & Dick which was supposed to be your comeback but instead it was a steaming pile of Lifetime shit. But none of that pushed me to turn away from you.

Let me tell you why I’m so upset, Linds. I was in New York with my friend Jesse last weekend and we popped into a Russian piano bar for a quick cocktail before our reservation at Lucky Cheng’s. I ordered what was advertised as your signature cocktail. It was vodka, blackberry puree, and some liqueur that tasted like a dandelion’s anus. Perhaps you haven’t given your permission and have never even had this terrible flowery stomach-rot. But it’s just too easy to picture you enthusiastically throwing your name onto this disgusting purple concoction just because the owner probably complimented you on your boobs and gave you a free bowl of canned mushrooms with a side of oyster crackers.

It’s clear that now is the time for us to go our separate ways. If I give up now I won’t have any more of these bullshit comeback blue balls to deal with, and I definitely won’t end up drinking any more thick, purple things with flower extracts. Well, the last part is probably not true. But I won’t be able to blame you and let’s face it, Lindsay, you have a lot on your plate right  now.

Oh, Lindsay

Lindsay Lohan is on the defense once again. This time, she’s been accused of being a toilet clogger. It has to be true. I read it on TMZ. The allegations are stemming from her time on the set of Scary Movie 5. Apparently she clogged her toilet and every other toilet on the set. But she swears she’s been framed. That is the ultimate revenge, right? Call someone a toilet clogger.

In response to these allegations, here’s my open letter to Lindsay Lohan:

Dear Lindsay,

Sometimes as a woman ages, her digestive system changes. This can create some embarrassing problems. The remedies are simple. First, try giving up processed foods and dairy. That should clear up your toilet clogging problem right away. You’ll need to take a calcium supplement. You’re a great candidate for osteoporosis since you’ve had a cigarette and a soda for breakfast every day for the last decade.

If the diet changes don’t help, I’m afraid you’re going to have say goodbye to the opiates. I know it’s rough. You’ve had a great relationship, but you’re destroying entire plumbing systems. And that is one of the major problems with those happy little pills.

And please, Lindsay, stop it with the ‘I’m being framed’ bullshit. No one’s out to get you. Honestly, people are rooting for you. How many chances do we all keep giving you? We get our hopes up with every single come back. I would have even bought those stupid leggings you were pushing a few years ago if you didn’t give them a sticker price of $75. They were leggings, Lindsay. No one pays more than $20 for leggings. No wonder you don’t have any more money. You don’t know how much anything costs, do you? I bet your drug dealer is as rich as a Rockefeller.

The point is we all want you to get your shit together, just not all in one place.



P.S. Break up with your mom.