In Defense of Charlies Angels

By Wil Forbis

Warning: Chicks: You're probably going to find the following article offensive, so in the interest of me having any chance of sleeping with you, please don't read it. Come back in two weeks for my article entitled "The Lost Genius of Sylvia Plath." Seriously, I'm begging you here, DON'T READ THE ARTICLE! (Especially you, Mom.) Sigh… okay, I give up, go ahead and read it. But don't say I didn't warn you.

Advanced Torture List:

1) Remove eyeballs from sockets, cover them with Miracle Whip and feed them to my pet lobster, "Barney."

2) Insert straw into victim's urethra and pour liquid heat down it while singing an off key version of "Sunrise, Sunset."

3) Force victim to watch every episode of Margeret Cho's "American Girl" sitcom.

4) Cut out victim's tongue and then present him/her to Florida election officials saying "This person is very interested in aiding in the hand recount process!"

5) Offer victim to Ted Nugent to be used as a piece of human game in his "Bow Hunting for Kids" instructional video.

Oh, I'm sorry. You just happened to come across this list I was compiling of painful, yet comical tortures that should be inflicted on the many, many film "critics" who gave negative reviews to the recent film, "Charlie's Angels." I didn't mean to leave it out in plain site, right here on this Acid Logic web page. But since you've discovered it, allow me the opportunity to vent for awhile, expressing my rage for these uncultured heathens who have so insulted the fine cinematic triumph that is the "Charlie's Angels."

I'm ashamed to admit it, but the many negatives reviews and condemnations "Charlie's Angels" received almost prevented I, the great Wil Forbis, from seeing this delightful fantasy escapade. The film opened to such a universal tongue lashing I was prone to believe that Hollywood had somehow managed to ruin yet another stirring television adaptation the way they had "McHale's Navy" and "My Mother the Car." It was only John Saleeby's plaintive email cries, claiming that "Charlie's Angels" brought together giggles and jiggles in a way yet unseen on the Hollywood screen, that I was finally lured into the theatre. And once there, I loved the film. "Charlie's Angels" did a great job of combining Matrix style action sequences and cheesy innuendo-laden humor spots* with enough sexy T&A shots to turn your pants into a circus tent. Clearly this was a work of unequalled excellence and needed to go down in Hollywood history as a feature film of utmost importance.

However, a sizeable amount of America's movie critics disagreed with me. Perusing a brief sampling of some of the commentary that the film recieved unearthed the following dull-witted and mentally deficient observations:

"... the movie's thinner than a supermodel's waist." - Mr. Showbiz

"…the cast takes a back seat to the excessive, indifferently filmed and digitally faked martial-arts footage" - MSN.com

"precious little entertainment value except to those so grimly determined to be entertained that they will swallow any insult to their intelligence." - The dork who writes reviews for local vaguely lefty rag, The Sacramento News and Review. (First off, I'd like to know where this guy gets off accusing me off "swallowing"!?)

"Watching this movie is like watching your favorite relative with a lampshade on his head(?!?)…a jiggle show…" - Roger Ebert

At this point you might be saying, "Good Lord, have I gone mad? I can't believe the America I fought for, the America I love, would decry such a shining example of American storytelling as 'Charlie's Angels'" And I know how you feel. I, too, felt that the critical disclaim "Charlie's Angels" received was an insult towards everything that is good and true about our nation. And I dare say that I became a little curious as to why our country's critics had seem to unanimously lose their minds on this topic. After a three day rumination on the subject, powered by several bottles of Canadian absinthe and repeated listenings to AC/DC's delightful "Stiff Upper Lip" album, I arrived at the following irrefutable theorem:

Film critics are a cowardly predictable lot, and you can easily divide them into three distinct and scientifically valid categories. These categories are: "Lame-O Male Movie Critics Looking To Score With Airhead Pseudo Feminist Chicks", "Angry, Middle Aged Pauline Kael Wannabes Who Teach Courses On Fellini At The Local Community College And Have Sublimated Lesbian Desires**" , and "Roger Ebert." And by doing a careful analysis of each type of film reviewer, it is not hard to ascertain a method to their madness.

1) Lame-o Male Movie Critics Looking to Score with Airhead Pseudo Feminist Chicks
You see these guys all over the place. When they're not working at their five hour a week job writing encapsulated paragraph reviews for the local Village Voice newspaper, they're sitting at some internet café somewhere, giggling to themselves while they write the newest installment of dribble for their online web zine (waitasec!) They're usually 28 or so, have BA in Literature, and are starting to realize that chicks no longer find their arcane references to Chekov and Lord Byron amusing so they try and get in the pants of some 18 year old floozy (who's still reeling from her first Susan Sontag novel) by acting all cultured and putting down a quality flick like "Charlie's Angel's." Eventually this type of film reviewer will end up as either a failed date rapist or one of those weird, balding guys you see at poetry open mics.

2) Angry, Middle Aged Pauline Kael Wannabes Who Teach Course On Fellini At The Local Community College And Have Sublimated Lesbian Desires
Some people manage to take the fun out of everything, especially members of category number 2. If they're not complaining about how "Charlie's Angels" objectifies women*** they're yakking about how the pen Bill Murray signs his checkbook with is really a phallic symbol he's using to symbolically rape Drew Barrymore. Of course they never mention that they stay up nights exploring the dirty south while visions of Lucy Liu and Cameron Diaz dance through their head. (Actually, that doesn't sound like such a bad idea!)

3) Roger Ebert
Frankly, I don't know what's up with the Eb on this one. Normally he doesn't try and fit the snooty "high aesthetic" crowd and can see escapist fantasy for what it is. Nonetheless, he condemns Charlie's Angels as "a jiggle show" despite the fact that he got his start as the screenwriter for Russ Meyer's "Beyond the Valley of the Dolls." (Yeah, that was a real work of important social commentary, Rog. "It's my happening… and it freaks me out!")

There's one other less possible theory, and that's that I'm full of crap and don't know what I'm talking about, but we've run out space and unfortunately, cannot explore that one. Perhaps another day.

* Who is not filled with sly mirth at the delightful site of Cameron Diaz cheerily looking a Fed Ex guy in the face and telling him "You can stick your package in my slot anytime"?

** After some discussion about this point with my mother. I've decided to make clear that I am in no way insinuating that Pauline Kael is a lesbian****. I mean, she could be, but I have no way of knowing. However, I do know that Ratt's "Invasion of Your Privacy" album is a magnificent piece of music

*** If you'll allow me a brief sojourn back to reality, I should point out that despite the numerous male film reviewers who tried to score points with the babes and called out Charlie's Angels for its objectification of women, the female run GirlsonFilm.com managed to see the movie for what it was and gave it a positive review.

**** Not that there's anything wrong with being a lesbian. Especially if you're one of Charlie's Angels.

 

Wil Forbis is a well known international playboy who lives a fast paced life attending chic parties, performing feats of derring-do and making love to the world's most beautiful women. Together with his partner, Scrotum-Boy, he is making the world safe for democracy. Email - acidlogic@hotmail.com

Visit Wil's web log, The Wil Forbis Blog, and receive complete enlightenment.