It's not that I don't love my friends. It's not that they haven't given me aid and succor in dark times. And I don't mean to seem ungrateful for their willingness to put up with my extravagant cavalcade of flaws.
But I am haunted by the fact that, in some alternate universe, there is a me who lives a life entirely devoid of friendship. Stunted and awkward, he makes no social connections at all, never talk to anyone. And I envy this damned soul, people, envy him to the very core of my being.
Because that poor wretch has never seen "Fantastic Four: Rise of the Silver Surfer."
And, a few years ago, he never loaded himself into the vehicle of a person he trusted, cared about, only to hear "We're going to go see the second Pirates of the Caribbean movie", and find himself recreating the ending of the first Nightmare on Elm Street movie, where the Freddy-Kreuger-mobile locks the kids in and then drives them off to their doom.
Sure, you might say, out of the hundreds or thousands of hours of friendship you've enjoyed, those movies totaled, what, four hours of your life? And, measuring time objectively, you'd be quite right.
But only if you're speaking objectively. Subjectively, I've achieved some sort of Schroedinger's Movie Goer state, where not only am I here typing this, but I am also in both theaters, because both of those films lasted for the entirety of my life.
And all because of friendship, because someone I trusted not to hurt me said "Oooh, Fantastic Four. That looks good!"
Because my hatred for this film knows no bounds, I have no choice but to review it multiple times, in multiple styles.
First, haiku review:
The ultimate fight;
Bad script versus crap actors.
Audience loses.
The wistful, nostalgic review: Say, do you remember the good old days? When you'd go down to the drive-in with your best gal, buy some popcorn and a soda pop for 50 cents, and sit down to watch a film reel of paint drying on a fence? And we didn't have to once look at the most boring chase scene between two cosmically powered speed freaks ever put on film, or watch that guy from Nip/Tuck absolutely butcher one of the greatest supervillains ever inked? Yesiree, if you ignore the racism and the death rate, those were the days.
The review from Incest Fan Weekly: At last, a film that acknowledges that a husband and wife should have no chemistry whatsoever, while a brother and sister should be making sex eyes at each other constantly! It's only natural!
The review from a blind person: Being blind means I couldn't watch the film's sometimes passable special effects. So I had to focus on the dialogue, which is why I am now also deaf (it took some work, but I managed to pierce my eardrums with stale pieces of popcorn). The only relief was that I didn't have to look at poor Michael Chiklis, who looks (so I've been told, via that Helen-Keller touch language stuff) not like The Thing, but like a once-somewhat-respected actor who tried on a bad Thing costume once, briefly, as a joke, and who now cannot seem to remember how to take it off. Poor bastard.
And finally, and most excitingly, a guest review from the Universe's premiere food critic:
Thanks, big guy! You're a true friend.
