I saw the trailer for Hall Pass five times before I recognized him.
Yeah, he’s always had that lousy nose, but what the hell? I didn’t notice that either, for three whole movies. His longer, curly blond hair covers a multitude of sins, and I normally hate long haired blonds.
And I know this movie is just pretend, but ladies: if you would just have sex with your husbands, you wouldn’t have to give them a “hall pass” for a week, to sleep with somebody else. Neither of these dudes is 300 lbs or stubbornly unemployed or, apparently, smells. Not sure why you thought you were getting married. When men marry, they trade variety (and eventually, youthful beauty) for availability. That means you.
PS: the Farrelly brothers movies suck. They are not funny.
Please bear in mind: I like a lot of “guy” stuff. I watch the Barrett-Jackson. The Spiked logo is practically burned onto my new TV already. I wonder aloud, even alone, why Vin Diesel thinks he needs a marine shotgun on dry land. Sometimes when I was single, I’d put on Con Air or Die Hard or Face/Off or Predator and just let it in the background, like a kind of testosterone air freshener.
So all that being said: There’s Something About Mary is an indictment of humanity akin to the Trail of Tears and the Battan Death March.
And I’m not entirely sure what decade they’re living in, or what kinds of friends they have, but I haven’t heard of a man (real or fictional) trying to get out of/joking about being disgusted by performing oral sex on a woman since about 1975:
A major ongoing gag in the movie—in fact, it provides the closing line—has to do with a sexual practice Fred calls “fake chow,” in which (forgive me, Mom) a man pretends to go down on a woman while actually just using his fingers and making loud smacking sounds with his mouth. Practicability aside (would anyone not on roofies fall for this?) the fake-chow joke raises the genuinely confounding question: Why? If Fred and Rick’s entire goal in life is the pursuit of pussy, why don’t they enjoy it when they get it? If vaginas are that offputting, shouldn’t the heroes experience their relatively sexless marriages as a relief? The possible roles a movie like Hall Pass offers to women are almost psychotically narrow and self-contradictory: Either we’re dull domestic harridans or enticing yet fatally hideous Medusas. If the Farrellys want to make movies that explore the American man-boy’s simultaneous love and fear of women—a theme that, if treated well, could be fascinating—I hope they’ll eventually put their mouths where their money is.
Some men may not like cunnilingus, but they know better than admit it publicly, cuz it’s been obligatory in all social strata since the Carter administration. It’s one of those things, like jazz and other people’s weddings, you pretend to think is all deep and wonderful, because you sense you’re supposed to. You sure as hell don’t put faking it (?) in a movie in 2011 like you’re remaking Where’s Pappa? or Fire Sale. Reading about Hall Pass, I feel like there must be a scene about a “mugging” in Central Park, and somehow, Jack Gilford’s gonna show up with Vincent Gardenia.
Of course, I also agree with St. Paul that men should love their wives as Christ loves his bride the Church, which is to say, men should regard marriage as crucifixion. It is not fun and games, loverboy. You think joining the army demands total commitment from you? Marriage, you do not get R&R, do not get leave, and you are never off duty. You are husband and father forever and aye, till death do you part, amen.