So I was watching the latest episode of "Alias" last Thursday night...

... when it occurred to me that I had laundry to do. I think it's safe to say that a show has effectively lost me as a loyal viewer when the thought of washing my boxers is more compelling than their current storyline.

The reasons why I will not be among those mourning Alias's upcoming and overdue cancellation are many and varied. And, naturally, I plan on relating each of them to you in detail. For reference.

1.) For those of you who do not watch Alias, allow me to get you up to speed. First of all, it is a spy show. About spies. Good and bad spies. Sometimes the good spies behave badly. Sometimes, the bad spies behave. Sometimes, the good spies are the bad spies. They all have gadgets. And computers. Laptops, mostly. Flat screens, too. For spies, they spend an inordinate amount of time wearing suits. They travel to many exotic locations to kill people for reasons that no one seems to fully understand, least of all the audience. If they're lucky, they get to wear different suits when "in the field" (this is a spy term you will hear so often on the show that it will quickly lose all meaning to you). If I'm very lucky, Jennifer Garner will wear next to nothing when "in the field."

Anyway, here's the story up to now... The CIA headquarters -- oh, wait. I don't think they're CIA exactly. Okay, the spy-organization-that's-not-CIA headquarters are apparently located in a subway station. The decor is predominantly white and sterile and suit-oriented. Jennifer Garner's character, Sydney, is pregnant (more on this distressing point later). Her father is the head of the spy-organization-that's-not-CIA. Or acting head. Or team leader. Or mailroom supervisor -- you know, I'm not fully clear on that point, to tell you the truth. Mr. Sloane, everyone's sworn enemy, also works with them as, er, um, as a connection to underground... bad guy... type... people? Anyway, everybody hates him and glares at him and wants him dead, but apparently he still gets to come to the Employee Appreciation Day cook-out. Sydney's half-sister is Sloane's daughter -- maybe -- and she's in a coma because of... oh, Christ, don't ask. Sydney's fiance Michael has been killed off because he was mad that Jennifer Garner married Ben Affleck. Three new characters have been added to the show to distract us from the fact that Jennifer Garner cannot do any cool stunts or wear hot skimpy outfits... on account of her fatness, you see. One of these characters is a guy with no personality, which makes him somewhat difficult to distinguish from all of the other guys with no personalities. The other two characters are women who happen to be depressingly ugly. They tried to doll one of them up as a hooker, but that didn't do anyone any good. The other one is French, so the less said about that, the better. There are some new bad guys who keep dying, so now I don't know who the bad guys are. Oh, and Sydney's mother came back because the producers offered her more money, I guess. Now, everyone is searching for... the... mysterious... um...

Um...

There. I have been watching this show since its inception five years ago, and now you know just as much about the storyline as I do. Throughout the years, many people have complained that Alias is simply too confusing to follow. My initial reaction to this complaint was, "Well, no shit. It's about spies. If being a spy was simple, we'd all be fucking spies." As the years passed and I began to realize that I could not honestly tell you the plotline of one single season, my follow-up reaction was, "Hmm, those stupid bitching crybabies had a valid point. What the fuck is going on here?"

But who are we kidding? I didn't start watching this show to brush up on my Rambaldi history. The fact is, Sydney can prattle on about The Covenant all she wants... so long as the writers have her doing it in her underwear. But even that glorious motivation has disappeared because...

2.) Jennifer Garner just gave birth to Satan's spawn. Therefore, the entire season has focused on Sydney's boring pregnancy. I've gotta tell you, nothing stops a spy show cold like having its wet dream-inducingly gorgeous sex kitten lead huffing around an office in a maternity dress. And as if that weren't enough, they even have her wear glasses every few episodes. Glasses? Are you fucking kidding me? I mean, Jesus, were the producers actively trying to get this show cancelled?

For the record, Jennifer Garner is my number one girlfriend. Unfortunately, nothing will be more likely to get you booted from my List of Perfect Women than the deadly combination of marriage and motherhood. And nothing will make me more likely to show you the contents of my day's devourings than the combination of marriage and motherhood at the hands of Ben Affleck. Still, I am essentially a romantic at heart, so I allow Miss Garner to remain atop my Gorgeous Goddess list, unmolested, in the fervent hope that Ben Affleck will soon get very, very sick and die. If this beneficient event fails to crystallize, however, Jessicas Biel and Alba need to be fully prepared to oil wrestle for the vacant number one spot.

3.) The show's writing makes me sad. Well, not so much 'sad' as 'really damned bored.' To give you an idea of how exciting this spy show isn't, the following is a reproduction of a scene taken from last week's episode. In it, Sydney is talking with her dead fiance, Michael, during a hypnosis-induced flashback (seriously).

______________________________________________

(SYDNEY and MICHAEL are in a room, staring at one another.)

SYDNEY: I miss you.

MICHAEL: I miss you, too.

(They continue staring at one another.)

SYDNEY: I'm in a trance right now.

MICHAEL: Oh. Bad guys again?

SYDNEY: Yeah.

MICHAEL: Oh. (Clenches jaw. Looks to the right, then back at SYDNEY) I love you.

SYDNEY: I love you, too. (Staring continues.) I miss you.

MICHAEL: Yeah, you, uh, you already --

SYDNEY: Did I already say that?

MICHAEL: Yeah.

SYDNEY: Oh, geez. Sorry.

(More staring. SYDNEY quietly coughs into her hand.)

MICHAEL: What?

SYDNEY: What?

MICHAEL: Oh, I thought you said something.

SYDNEY: No, I didn't say anything.

MICHAEL: Oh.

(Both look briefly at feet, then back at each other.)

SYDNEY: I've gotta go.

MICHAEL: Right. Bye.

(Staring continues for three minutes. Cut to commercial.)_________________________________________


Not convinced? Here is a scene from the same episode that took place between Sydney's stoic father and the equally stoic Sloane (that guy everybody hates yet continues to work with). (Author's note: I should point out here that the men portraying these characters, Victor Garber and Ron Rifkin, are two of the most skilled actors alive today and my mockery of the show should not in any way be taken as a slight to their impressive talents. Also, you are surprisingly unattractive. I felt that fact bore mentioning.)

____________________________________________

MAN IN SUIT: We need to find Sydney.

OTHER MAN IN SUIT: I agree.

(Grim looks are exchanged. No one breathes.)

MAN IN SUIT: Can you help me find her?

OTHER MAN IN SUIT: Yes.

(MAN IN SUIT narrows his eyes.)

MAN IN SUIT: How?

OTHER MAN IN SUIT: I will call people I know.

MAN IN SUIT: Underground people?

OTHER MAN IN SUIT: Yes. Those people.

(MAN IN SUIT takes a quick breath, then holds it again. OTHER MAN IN SUIT scratches nose.)

MAN IN SUIT: I grudgingly appreciate your help in this matter.

OTHER MAN IN SUIT (under his breath): I have a secret...

MAN IN SUIT: What?

OTHER MAN IN SUIT: Nothing. (EXTRA IN SUIT walks past office door.) May I go make my phone calls now? To underground people that I know who will help us locate your daughter?

(MAN IN SUIT glares at OTHER MAN IN SUIT for two minutes.)

MAN IN SUIT: Yes.
________________________________________________

Apparently, staring at people and wearing suits both play a very crucial role in the life of a secret agent.

Hmm, I guess I said I had many and varied reasons to look forward to Alias's permanent removal from my TV screen, but seems it's just the three. Still, nonsensical storylines, ugly women, uninspired writing, a dreamgirl who can no longer see her own feet... I think I have belabored my point in typical unforgiving, heavyhanded fashion.

In closing, no, you are not on my List of Perfect Women.

CURRENT MOOD: Gassy. Kinda gassy.

This is the termite bond for the house I had when I lived in Georgia. Termite bonds are required to live in a home in Georgia, as are confederate flags. Slaves are not required at this point in time, a fact I imagine their state government is working furiously to correct.

So I received some very good news last week...

...but no one reads this damn thing for positive information, so I've decided to use this particular entry to tear apart several movies just out in theatres that I have absolutely no intention of ever seeing.

Until they're on video and I'm really bored.

Now, you may be asking yourself, "How can anyone roundly condemn a movie based solely on a handful of brief, noisy, confusing trailers?" Simple. Because this is America, you pinko pussbag. And just for reference, the following is an inclusive list of the number of subjects I am unapologetically close-minded about:




> Everything




So, on with the baseless reviews!


1.) Syriana

> The plot as far as I can tell from the trailers: Overrated walking log George Clooney is pissed off at the Republicans again, so here we are.

>Why it will suck: Here are a few of the revolutionary concepts I imagine the Syriana moviegoer can expect to be battered relentlessly about the head and neck with ... George W. Bush is evil. Republicans like oil. War is bad. War over oil is bad. Republicans are bad. Oil is found in the desert.

Okay, now all politics aside, are these really fresh, groundbreaking ideas to toss around and/or bitch about? I mean, really? Didn't I hear all this shit already when I didn't see Fahrenheit 9/11? And the end result of all this heavyhanded preaching? That's right; the conservatives will whine that it's unfair to their Messiah, er, Bush, and the liberals will head to the bathroom and fondle themselves, content in the knowledge that someone in Hollywood has finally made a movie for their side. Again.

>Why it may not be a complete bust: I saw Christopher Plummer's name in the credits, and that man can do no wrong (please consult his flawless performance as Mike Wallace in The Insider for reference). Also, a car blows up.

2.) Memoirs of a Geisha

>The plot as far as I can tell from the trailers: Something unfortunate happens to a girl in China. At least, I think it's China. No, wait! Japan. It's Japan.

>Why it will suck: I believe the book this film is based on was one of Oprah's 58,752 "My Absolute Favorite Book of the Millenium!" titles. There exists no better reason to revile a movie.

Also, a note to the lead character: Uh, what is the problem here, sister? Your life sucks? Hey, welcome to the human race, pint-size. Enjoy your stay. It's non-stop suckage all the time on this planet -- for everyone. Hoist your cross and get in line, 'cause you ain't alone in the eternal misery game, sunshine.

>Why it may not be a complete bust: Ass-kicking cutie Ziyi Zhang as a geisha? This movie sounds promising at its most basic level.

3.) Aeon Flux

>The plot as far as I can tell from the trailers: An impossibly sexy assassin/spy/agent/underwear model is betrayed by "them" and left for dead. So guess what? Yep. Payback time. Also, I believe a fly gets stuck in someone's eye.

>Why it will suck:
Charlize Theron with blonde hair = Gorgeous
Charlize Theron with a dark boy-cut = No thank you

I refuse to pay money to see any film pretentious enough to place an "a" before the word "eon." If you insist on doing this, I will insist on pronouncing it phonetically.

And can somebody please, please make it a federal crime to use the words "They betrayed him/her and left him/her for dead..." in a movie trailer? Seriously, who doesn't roll their eyes whenever this painful cliche is uttered in a sonorous monotone in yet another thriller preview? Whoever "they" are, by the way, needs to start aiming for the head. I'm sick of this "well, I nicked her in the left shoulder, but I'm sure the wound will become septic and she'll die eventually, so enough about that, on with my evil plan!" shit. Come on, you cheap megalomaniac bastard, a couple rounds in the cranium will ensure that neither of us has to sit through another movie like this.

Oh, and does anyone remember the boring MTV animated shorts from waaaaaaaaaaaaay back when that this film is apparently based off of? Yeah, neither do I.

>Why it may not be a complete bust: Still, Charlize Theron in a skintight leather outfit is Charlize Theron in a skintight leather outfit. Thumbs up as well to the novel concept of razor sharp grass capable of shredding your face into a flesh ribbon pie.

4.) Rent

>The plot as far as I can tell from the trailers: A group of eight dirty New York Bohemians with an affinity for scarves spends a year of their life singing, dying, or both.

>Why it will suck: I heard this movie touted as "the musical that defined a generation" and I just felt I had to weigh in on the issue. First of all, any generation that requires a musical to define it needs to be wiped from the annals of time. Permanently. Which, if this film's boast is true, puts me in a bit of a bind...

Secondly, having grown up circa this musical's generation, I can safely assume that very little in it accurately reflects my white, middle-class, Midwestern, non-heroin-shooting upbringing. After all, I don't recall having a transvetite friend who walked around dressed as Santa Claus. Therefore, I have taken it upon myself to list the eight cornfed Wisconsin suburbanites who defined a generation as I know it:

BILLY: Greetings, earthlings. I'm the the nerdy, gaming freak roommate who won't leave my computer for any reason whatsoever, least of all hygienic concerns.

JAKE: Hey man, I'm the rich asshole jock whose Daddy owns the local car dealership/supermarket/Denny's and feels this somehow entitles me to do and say as I please.

BETHANY: Hi, hi, hi! I'm the excitable optimist who can't seem to shut the fuck up! I'm so happy, all of the time, I could just give the world a big, old hug and -- Wait a minute. I can't find my Hello Kitty keychain. My sister gave me that keychain! I HATE THE WORLD! I WISH I WAS DEAD! WAAAAAAAAAAAAH!!!

JOAN: Oh, hi there. I'm the wispy wallflower or loudmouth tomboy next door who's secretly longed for you since we were children but is content being just "one of the guys." You'll often see me portrayed in a WB teen soap, though I'm nowhere near that hot in real life.

ANDY: I don't do greetings. I'm the bored, too-cool-for-school beatnik wannabe who conforms to non-comformity but blows my credibility straight to hell as soon as I drive to Hot Topic in my mom's SUV.

DICK: Hey, fellas, what's up? I'm that guy who's so pathetic that I make even you look cool by comparison! I'll follow you around like I'm part of your group and laugh at jokes I don't get. I'll even feign interest in whatever it is you like in a vain attempt to fit in. I'm so terribly lonely...

MISSY: Hi there. I'm the self-righteous, uber-religious hypocrite who turns into a complete slut once I knock back two Zimas.

ALAN: Hello. I come from the picture-perfect nuclear family, I love my parents, I have lots of friends, I got straight-A's throughout school, I'm an award-winning athlete, I have a beautiful girlfriend, and I am currently attending a prestigious university out of state. In several years, you'll read about me in the paper as a convicted serial killer/embezzler/sex offender/tax evader/animal abuser/white supremacist/pedophile/successful attorney.

So, there you have it. The cast of my generation.

Hmm. Musical or not, maybe my generation could use a little mass genocide...

>Why it may not be a complete bust: The luscious Rosario Dawson as a stripper should be enough to greenlight any movie. So why spoil it with a bunch of songs about sad, dying people?

5.) The Lion, the Witch, and the Wardrobe

>The plot as far as I can tell from the trailers: There's a lion. And a witch. I believe a wardrobe also factors into things at one point. Beyond that, I have no fucking idea.

>Why it will suck: Believe it or not, I have some original stills and accompanying commetary taken from a press junket featuring the three stars of TLTWATW. For your viewing pleasure, here they are:

"I'm the Lion, the most overused and unoriginal symbol of nobility, strength, and pride that you'll ever come across. Believe it or not, I don't even seem to be the hero of my own movie! That honor goes to a quartet of pasty, unattractive English tykes."

______________________________________________________________

"I'm the Witch. I'm evil and cruel and have no motivation whatsoever for my unrepetant villainy ... unlike every other witch represented in the history of literature and the cinema. Oh! And I have a crown (I think) instead of a pointy hat. Also, I believe a renowned, corpse-like British actress will portray me. An English person cast as the bad guy ... another theatrical first!"

______________________________________________________________

"I'm the Wardrobe. Even though I'm a standard, commonplace piece of furniture that can be found in millions of homes around the globe, the producers will still see fit to present me as a CGI effect. Come inside, children, and visit a breathtaking, magical, mystical world in which foxes are referred to as 'Mr. Fox' and beavers as 'Mr. Beaver.' That's right, kids! In the wondrous land of Narnia, we don't even have imagination enough to come up with original names for all of our inhabitants! And what could be grander than a movie with the name of a bulky, cumbersome, completely immobile glorified set decoration in its title?"

______________________________________________________________

I swear, if one more person refers to C.S. Lewis's novel as an allegory of the Christ story, I'm seriously going to start jabbing at people's eyes with hot pokers. Yes, we know it's a fucking allegory of the Christ story. Every story ever written is a fucking allegory of the Christ story. Christ, the original Christ story is a fucking allegory of the Christ story!

>Why it may not be a complete bust: I believe I saw a rhinoceros in the preview. And the minotaur looks pretty kickass.

So, there you have it. Five movies now out in theatres that I have chosen to hate based purely on the trailers alone. I am truly growing as an individual.

In closing, no, I will not tell you what the good news was.

CURRENT MOOD: Sick of looking at your ugly face.

So I was at the Mall today and I started wondering...

...what the hell am I doing at the Mall? I hate the Mall, regardless of my unnecessary capitalization of the word. And then the glaringly obvious reason struck me...

It's Christmas!
...I mean, Hanukkah!
...Kwanzaa!
...Winter Solstice!
...The Visit of Los Reyes Magos!
...The secular end-of-year Holiday Season!

Yes, that's right, loyal readers. It's that special time of year again. The holiday season that everybody celebrates and nobody agrees on. Except for the Jehovah's Witnesses and your more humorless atheists, who apparently celebrate nothing and disagree with everything.

Ahhh, the holidays. What says brotherly love and good will towards men like bitching about the fact that the greeter at Wal-Mart wished you "Happy Holidays" instead of a "Merry Christmas," the hellbound heathen? I've got news for you, Churchie, if the housewares clerk at Target takes it upon himself to cold-cock you square in the babymaker, then you can go crying to your local powerless media outlet. But if he just fails to wish you a Merry Christmas, you do what any emotionally-mature grown-up is expected to do: suck it up, champ.

It occurs to me that I should be more sympathetic, however. After all, this is the only time of year when the whackjobs on the far right side of the Christian sliding scale get to express their opinions (which, by the way, should also be your opinions, dear friends. After all, we are living in their country). They only get to come out at Christmas. And Easter. And Halloween. And Independence Day. And whenever we invade another country. And whenever a natural disaster occurs. And whenever our court system upholds the Constitution. And whenever we make a groundbreaking new scientific discovery. And whenever a new Harry Potter book is released. And whenever frogs rain from the heavens.

Well, I suppose I should expect to hear from them on that last one. Unless there's a perfectly rational scientific explanation for it, of course.

Where was I? Oh, right. The Mall.

I hate the Mall. I also hate the indigenous creatures who frequent the Mall during the holiday season. You yourself know and revile these people, I'm sure. But I'm going to waste my time and yours listing them anyway. For reference.

1.) The Power Parker: This lazy jackass just knows a spot's gonna open up right in front of Marshall Fields' any second now, and she's gonna be there when it does! You will often spy the Power Parker still circling the parking lot as you exit the Mall three hours later.

2.) Stern-looking Business Man in Suit and Trench Coat: "I'm important and successful and quite possibly on my lunch break. I can't believe I'm deigning to mingle with you commonfolk, but my third wife is going to just love this copy of Dan Brown's hyperpublicized pulp novel, The Da Vinci Code!"

3.) Loud Cellphone Lady: "Hi, Marcie? Do you remember what Alan wanted for Christmas? I'm in the store right now. ... Yeah, right now. ... Oh, you're kidding! ... When did that happen? ... What color did it turn out? ... Yellow?! [raucous, strident laughter follows] ... Anyway, the funniest thing happened to my sister today. She was meeting Nancy at the salon and she brought her that book she's been telling her to read, you know, that one Oprah was raving about?" -- All right, people, yes, I get it, the cellphone is here to stay. And I admit there are plenty of valid reasons to use one. But really, bellowing into a fancy walkie-talkie in the middle of the bookstore about the mundane details of your weep-worthy life is not one of them.

4.) Underage Hootchie Mama with baby in tow: This dance video reject is moderately passable in the looks department if she slathers on gobs of makeup -- which she has -- and wears a glorified handkerchief -- which she is -- and keeps to the far, dark reaches of the Mall where nary a sunbeam falls -- which she won't. Who this little mother-of-the-year is trying to impress is beyond me. She's dressed like a streetwalker, so she wants to catch the fellas' eyes.... but, uh, well, she's also holding a baby. Her baby. That she made after catching the eye (and sperm) of the last fella she met at the Mall. Gee, nothing says "I'm easy and too simple to grasp even the basic tenets of birth control" like a fifteen-year-old girl in fast access lowriders pushing around her goddamned baby in a stroller.

5.) Squirrely Young Punks: Let's be honest. These fine additions to society have had a busy day: First, they had to run up the down escalator and vice versa. Then, they started a straw war at the food court. Next, it was off to CompuGamingTechnoGear Palace to test the latest first-person shooter and mock the guy behind the counter (who actually earns a paycheck for his gaming interests). After throwing pennies off the second floor at the tired parents below, they had to hustle to the east end of the Mall to avoid the Man (read: mall security) who's always hasslin' them. And finally, it's off to Victoria's Secret to oogle the lifeless mannequins, all of which are wearing outfits they will never see on a real, unpaid woman.

6.) That Guy they're looking for on that "Most Wanted" show: Gangly, unshaven, balding, beady eyes, weaselly face, ratty jacket, unplaceable but foul odor.... and always standing right behind me when I'm washing my hands in the bathroom.

7.) Gaggle of Giggling Girls: They're 14, they're perky, and they're tittering like field mice at the sight of everything and anything. Ladies and gentlemen, I present to you the proud product of the women's lib movement, thank you very much.

8.) Tired Parents: Actually, I'll honestly admit that these poor saps have it pretty rough. So rough, in fact, that they feel it is their god-given right to inflict the obnoxious, squalling result of their perfunctory lovemaking unto us, the non-parent. Fortunately, they will be pelted mercilessly with pennies before the day is through.

9.) Old Man Roadblock: He was here first. In the aisle and on the planet. Old Man Roadblock has discovered the exact geographical center of the smallest aisle that you desperately need to go through and he will stand there looking fixedly at..... you know, what the hell is he looking at, anyway? It doesn't matter. You can't squeeze through and you can't wait him out. He is a living glacier, after all. Your only option at this point is to go elsewhere and make a mental note to bitch about it in your blog as soon as you get home.

10.) Mr. I-Don't-Want-to-be-Here: That glowering, don't-fuck-with-me look in his eye; the grim scowl on his face; the quick, purposeful movements; the rude stonewalling of friendly kiosk attendants; the refusal to linger in any store for more than two minutes; and the fact that he'll end up leaving without purchasing a damn thing are all definite signs that you've got a MIDWTBH on your hands. This guy is a prick. This guy is me.


In closing, the carpet-bombing of malls should not be considered a terrorist act.

So I was watching "War of the Worlds" and I realized that Dakota Fanning is far more frightening than...

...any invading alien species could possibly hope to be. Okay, look, I'm not going to handle this issue with kids' gloves, so to speak. This is a pretty blunt piece with some harsh criticism of a minor I find to be annoying in a major way, so if you can't handle that, you best return to the Land of Frosted-Covered Rainbows and Cherry-Flavored Unicorns. Whatever the hell that means.

Okay, so the wife and I are watching that overrated publicity nightmare, Tom "I'm not gay, really! Look! I knocked up that chick from Dawson's Creek!" Cruise, and the equally overrated and overexposed bad seed, Dakota "I'm speaking lines that would sound more appropriate coming from a 40-year-old woman, therefore I most be a mega-talent" Fanning, in Steven Spielberg's ode to pointless remakes, War of the Worlds. For those of you looking to see the movie in the hope of witnessing a compelling interplanetary showdown, you're obviously an idiot. After all, why would a top-tier director settle for making a fun and exciting film about aliens and spaceships when instead they could relate a dreary, go-nowhere personal saga about a crotchety dock worker and his unattractive offspring?

Oh, and his ex-wife is ugly, too.

Yes, Tom Cruise plays Tom Cruise-as-crotchety-dock-worker in a role that will no doubt have legions of shallow women screaming, "Eeek! It's Tom Cruise!" Dakota Fanning plays the part of his supposedly cute and implausibly mature daughter. For those of you who don't know who the hell Dakota Fanning is, you may recall her from her other groundbreaking performances, such as:

"Supposedly cute and implausibly mature daughter" in Uptown Girls (with Brittany Murphy)
"Supposedly cute and implausibly mature daughter" in Man on Fire (with Denzel Washington)
"Supposedly cute and implausibly mature daughter" in Hide and Seek (with Robert De Niro)

I say supposedly cute because for the life of me I simply can't see what makes this girl adorable to the general public. In fact, I had a difficult time throughout WotW distinguishing Miss Fanning from her alien tormentors. To illustrate my point, her is a picture of an alien, taken from the files of the infamous Project Blue Book, the United States Air Force's unsuccessful investigation into the possible threat of UFO's:


















Now, for comparison, here is a picture of actress Dakota Fanning (which, interestingly enough, was also taken from the files of Project Blue Book):


















Cruel? Perhaps. Enlightening? You betcha. In fact, I was waiting for the moment when the hordes of alien invaders would turn to Miss Fanning, awaiting further instructions from their monstrous leader. That, or run screaming in abject horror back to their, er, non-flight-capable, oddly-unsterilized tripod...thingeys.

Well, the aliens do neither. Instead they go about vaporizing certain people (which is cool) and harvesting the blood of others (also cool). How they differentiate between which humans are destined for dusting and which for cropping is never made clear. Nor is the weird, artery-like tributaries they seem to leave behind everywhere they go. Oh, but the following rather surprising fact is worth noting: although alien lasers will make short work of your flesh and innards, rest assured that your clothing is, apparently, laser-proof. Yes, that's right; after you have been turned into so many microscopic dust motes, your clothing will flutter poetically and ominously back down to earth, completely unharmed. I guess this serves as a visual warning to other humans in the vicinity. You know, those who failed to notice the five-story alien machines walking through the neighborhood and destroying it.

Where was I? Oh, yes. Bitching. Anyway, the screenwriters have also seen fit to include an aspect to Miss Fanning's character that will instantly endear her to the audience: she's a screamer. And not just any screamer; no, she's a high-pitched, long-lasting, shrieky screamer. While driving away from the carnage in a stolen van (which one ill-fated character refers to as a truck for no explored reason), we bear witness to the little shit's first screeching fit. Now, if you happened to miss this charming bit, there are two reasons why you need not beat yourself up over it:

1.) It is unfathomably annoying.
2.) She does this throughout the entire film.

Tim Robbins makes a welcome appearance as a babbling, bloodthirsty looney, but he makes Cruise and Fanning look even duller in comparison (no great feat, granted), so they settle his hash in short order. Oh, and Cruise's character also has a son who desperately wants to go back towards the man-mangling E.T.'s. You will quickly begin to wonder why Cruise wants to prevent him from doing this. Seems like a natural selection moment to me.

By the way, don't get too involved with the "How will they ever stop those dreadful aliens?" subplot. This is more of a "How will they ever get to grandma and grandpa's house?" type storyline. Seriously. Really. I'm not kidding. This movie honestly should have been titled I'm Taking You to Grandma's House via the Circuitous Route and We Might Chance to See Some Floating Clothing Along the Way.

How do they stop the aliens in the end, you ask naively? Well, far be it for me to spoil the ending, but let's just say that should you ever happen upon an unfriendly member of a hyperintelligent species from another planet, ... sneeze on the son a bitch.

In closing, both Dakota Fanning and Tom Cruise are very short.


CURRENT MOOD: Thinking about going to the bathroom.