Writer director Angelina Jolie is surpassed in horror only by oncologist clairvoyant Angelina Jolie. I might have that reversed. I could finally finish my Psych 101 paper requirements watching Angelina pre-cog her breasts and uterus out of her body. I see no redeeming value in a movie starring Jolie and her go-along to get-along husband about an artistic American couple living in the South of France struggling with their marriage. And not just because in real life she and Brad Pitt are an artistic American couple living in the south of France struggling with their marriage. Though that’s a good part of it.
It’s finally time to pity Brad Pitt. It’s tough enough when you have to smile politely at your wife’s freshly thrown pottery glazed in her backyard workshop. Taking four months to carefully act out the most annoying parts of your relationship in 70′s costumes has to be super fucking painful. She’s behind the camera. She knows you’re faking it. I will wrap your mouth in my last fallopian tube and smother you to death, asshole. Now act!
Celebrity reporters are fingering themselves with approval over Brad and Angelina encouraging their grade school daughter Shiloh to live life as a boy named John. According to every gender identity expert found at any British college you’ve never heard of, indulging your children’s tranny experimentation is the key to a healthy child. Yes, it used to be vitamins and exercise, now it’s this. Shiloh’s transformation has everything to do with gender identity crisis and nothing to do with a child searching for a modicum of attention in the International House of Wee Pals with celebrity parents, one of whom just lopped off her own tits to quell a possible visit from future cancer. After the third night of mom’s favorite bedtime story ‘All The Jolie Women Die Horribly Young’, I’d start binding any hint of female identify and start calling myself John as well. You can’t cut off my tits if we all pretend I’m never getting any. Put down the hatchet, mother, I’m your son John, don’t you remember? I’ll put on my overalls and we’ll go do something UNICEF in Malawi.
Shia Labeouf intentionally cut his face repeatedly and removed a tooth while filming The Fury. Brad Pitt was super enthused about this because he produced the movie and therefore gets enormous royalties so it seemed like solid sensationalized promotional jargon:
“He’s one of the best actors I’ve ever seen. He’s full-on commitment, man. He’s living it like no one else, let me tell you… I’ve been fortunate to work with a lot of great actors. He’s one of the best I’ve seen.”
Pitt should be impressed. Not because Labeouf is especially talented, but effort of any sort wows him since he shows up stoned to his pre-offered movie cameos and mumbles while cashing paychecks. Labeouf is the polar opposite. Well hated and dedicated as opposed to beloved and high on hashish. Pitt’s admiration probably stems from an inherent narcissism. Like when you watch a little kid try and work the TV remote. You could jump in and do it correctly but its fun to sit there and smile under your breath while they pull their teeth out.
It’s refreshing to see Labeouf actually cares about acting, yet it is equally irritating he is in the movie because his face is fucking annoying. If I were Pitt, I’d test Labeouf’s commitment by telling him you need to shoot an additional scene where his character has his nut sack shredded by a mortar.
Brad Pitt, Leonardo DiCaprio and Robert DeNiro will reportedly each make $13 million dollars for two days filming a short movie to promote a new casino in Macau. The Studio City is a movie themed mega casino, which should bode well for Arab oil execs looking to bang hairless boys and brush up on French New Wave. Martin Scorsese will be directing the film as part of his lifelong quest for cinema that inspires hitting on a soft seventeen.
Once actors near middle age they all realize those late nights getting high with their broke buddies and waxing about Mickey Rourke were a huge waste of time. You want to focus on minimal work for the highest reward. That’s why you became an actor in the first place. Sure it was sad when you saw DeNiro start being the laughable tough guy in crappy soft comedies, but losing your balls is just part of getting old. I salute Pitt and DiCaprio for staying true to their current priorities, pussy and boats. Don’t let James Lipton fool you, love of the craft is not what’s getting these guys up for hair and makeup at four a.m.
A woman who decapitates her boobs because of possible future cancer isn’t the kind of woman that waits around for shit. After just twelve years of making, extricating, and PayPal-ing for babies with Brad Pitt, Angelina Jolie decided to get hitched. They were running that line for a while about how they couldn’t get married until all the gay people in the world had the same right. Also, until Taco Bell started serving breakfast. The two signs of a progressive society. Without being able to find any more excuses, the couple vowed to love honor and cherish each other, mother earth, and the subjugated tribes of the Southern Sudan. Angelina wore a bridal gown decorated with art work from her seventeen or so children. It was sort of like a congratulations, you’re no longer blended family bastards, now gimme your crayon drawings. Some were happy family drawings, some rainbows and sunshine, but the troubled one from Southeast Asia brought down the mood with his Killing Fields depiction. Congratulations to the newlyweds for at least not putting naked photos of themselves on iCloud.
Brad Pitt and Angelina Jolie got married in secret and no one gave a flying fuck. It’s not like it’s 2002 when you were on the cover of magazines and Angelina had yet to cut off her breasts. What’s the fucking point of getting married after having 85 kids together. It is too late.