Cinecultist did indeed attend a Saturday afternoon screening of Gigli, damn that alien-implanted J.Lo-lovin' chip. CC thinks that, like most of the people who's hard earned money contributed to the movie's mediocre grosses for the weekend, we wanted to see if it really would be as bad as we'd heard. It was. Gigli's a train wreck. Martin Brest is asleep at the wheel. Jen and Ben have little on screen chemistry to speak of and if CC ever hears the phrase "the Baywatch" again, we might have to hurt somebody.
If CC were Elmore Leonard, we'd be expecting a royalty check right about now because Gigli wants so desperately to be a quirky and fanciful gangster tale like Get Shorty or even Out of Sight. Yet Gigli never fills in its characters' back stories, so the charisma of the actors and the alleged wackiness of the situations is expected to take up the slack. Kidnapping the mentally handicapped = crazy. Lesbian new age gangster = wacky. Reading the promotional packaging labels as bedtime story = hi-larious. Yet none of these supposed screwball scenes have any punch or momentum, they lie there on the screen with vast silences and odd looks passing between the actors which could have easily be excised by a good editor.
Gigli's filled with disjointed moments and bizarre encounters with ordinarily passable character actors. Al Pacino (as the bad ass gangster in a horrid grey ponytail) and Christopher Walken (as a suspicious cop) wander on screen, gesticulate a bit, explicate some plot, gnaw some furniture then disappear without a trace. Lanie Kazan (the mother from My Big Fat Greek Waste of Time) plays Gigli's mother and upon learning of Ricki's lesbian leanings leers at her like a love-starved sailor, and at the same time urges her to give the penis another try, since Mom can tell Ricki has dabbled in the past. Huh?
But the award for weirdest moment in this movie has to go to Jen's extended vagina monologue wherein she rhapsodizes on the merits of "that hole, those lips, the source of all life." While doing yoga. In a bra top and short shorts. It is like the red, white and blue Bardot body in Contempt, in terms of spectacle but without Godard's cynicism. For the fans of J.Lo's insured assets, she does wear a parade of ass-tastic outfits like ultra low rise pants and a practically indecent jean skirt but the capper is her Britney-style safety pin top. People around CC in the theater literally gasped when seeing her in this top as all thoughts of the plot flew out the window. The lesbian ex just tried to kill herself in the kitchen? Who cares when we can see Jen's not wearing a bra.
Luckily for anyone concerned that Jen might persuade a whole generation of impressionable young women to dabble in the dark side, her co-star is Ben the original cinematic sapphic converter. Normative heterosexuality reigns as the couple single-handedly keeping US Weekly in business ride off into the sunset. Now, will the alien chip please leave CC alone? Until Jersey Girl comes out anyway.Posted by karen at August 4, 2003 1:19 PM