Ohmygod! In the end, it turns out . . . duh-duh-duh-DUHHHN! . . . this movie sucks.
In his devotion to your success, health, and happiness—and control over same—the National Evil today performs the service of eliminating one movie from your future-viewing list. Happy birthday, dear reader: the Evil is giving you back two hours of your life.
He speaks of Revolver, reputed to be Guy Ritchie’s return to wiseass crime capery after his unfortunate bout of Madonnitis. The Evil isn’t even sure if Revolver was released in the States. He hopes not. It might have stolen screens from some Lindsey Lohan movie. And that would be a tragedy. A tragedy.
Problems abound in this film. The Evil hasn’t seen Idlewild, but if his performance in this flick is any indication, Andre 3000 shouldn’t have quit his day job. (One can only assume he has. That new OutKast project drops . . . when? Anyone?) One of the two coolest motherfunkers on the planet he may be, but the agony of every scene he inhabits is exceeded only by the scrotum-kicking pain of every scene Ray Liotta infests. What is up with Ray, anyway? When GoodFellas wrapped, was he issued a special voucher entitling him to a long acting career regardless of the quality of his work?
The real issue with Revolver, however—and the topic of this post—is the Fight Club and The Sixth Sense-esque “What the FUCK?!!” moment it intends to unleash on the viewer. The Reveal.
The Evil isn’t going to ruin it for you on the off-chance that you’re stuck on a plane one day watching it (more on that subject below), but rest assured: after the introduction of the Thing That Shall Be Revealed In An Hour, you will spend the rest of the movie saying to yourself, “Please don’t let that be the ‘surprise’ ending. Please. Don’t do this to me, Guy. Don’t piss me off. I’m warning you—!”
Alas. The movie closes with the intended “What the FUCK?!!” montage, and you will find yourself dumbfounded that the filmmakers could possibly have imagined you wouldn’t have realized the “twist” as soon as it was introduced . . . a veeeeery long hour ago.
It is time—the Evil thinks we can all agree here—to issue a 10-year moratorium on “surprise!” movie Reveals. The Prestige is the only movie the Evil has seen in the last five years featuring a halfway decent one. Most, however, are beginning to fall into this Revolver category—which, poor as it is, doesn’t take the crown as “worst Reveal ever” from Fracture, a flick the Evil sat through . . . while stuck on a plane. Obviously there isn’t a scriptwriter out there with a Keyser Soze scene in him. We need to await the sprouting of a new generation of screenwriters with their own, fresh Reveals. Until then, the Evil commands thee, Hollywood: CEASE!
[One final note: the Evil would like to rectify a long-held, erroneous belief. When discussing great Reveals, movies always brought up include Fight Club, The Sixth Sense, The Usual Suspects . . . and The Empire Strikes Back. Empire doesn’t belong in that category—because you’ve been given no hint at any point that Vader is Luke’s father. It’s a great ending, don’t get the Evil wrong, and it certainly qualifies as a surprise, but it’s not a Reveal. You could have pieced together Soze’s identity (which the Evil is proud to say he did. Go Evil!) or realized Brad Pitt and Ed Norton were one and the same, which make those Reveals. So while Empire is the best movie of the bunch, it doesn’t belong in the same category.]
Has anyone seen Revolver? More importantly, were you surprised to “find out” the truth at the end? Let the Evil know. So that he may pity you . . .
Enjoy the weekend. If possible, experience your own, legitimate “What the FUCK?!!” moment.