4 July 1999
In every way that George Lucas and Mike Meyers failed, with South Park Trey Parker, Matt Stone, and Pam Brady succeed. (And they know it, too.) I can't remember the last time I laughed so hard at a film - at a bloody musical, never. I remember when the posters and previews for this started showing up, and having not the slightest bit of positive anticipation. Great, yet another case of overblown post-15-minutes types wallowing in their own cleverness. Haven't we had enough of that this year?
But it's absolutely not like that at all. It's plotted perfectly, literally textbook-perfect (there's a screenwriter's in-joke in the third act that spells it out). The political satire is so pointed that it slides right past the attention of ordinary reviewers and into their tiny little brains. The musical numbers are spot on. Be sure to stay for the obligatory heartwarming song over the closing credits, and pay attention. And yes, it's about poopoo jokes. But as one of the beady-eyed, floppy-headed Canadian characters says, "American media is filled with countless scenes of gratuitous violence - who knew a few naughty words would piss you off so much?"
Speaking of poopoo jokes and the other ideals upon which our great republic was founded, it is the Fourth of July and all today. I think I may actually drag myself out of the house and go to my friend Brady's barbecue party. She is supplying the food, after all, I wouldn't want to seem churlish. OK, more churlish. Plus I have all day tomorrow to fall back into a weekend coma and not get my laundry done...
Willfully blind self-indulgent nebbish or amusingly quirky old coot? And how bout that local sports team? Discuss among yourselves.
All names are fake, most places are real, the author is definitely unreliable but it's all in good fun. Yep.
© 1998-1999 Lighthouse for the Deaf. All rights reserved and stuff.
The motto at the top of the page is a graffito I saw on Brunswick Street in Melbourne.