User:Bizzeebeever/Articles/The Greatest Story Ever Told
Ok, so, like, dude! I just saw this EPIC movie. No, it was more than epic, it was A PUNCH IN THE FRONTAL LOBE. It was...it was...you know what? Using conventional adjectives to describe its unparalleled greatness is so inadequate that it makes me itch inside, like I've got a burning case of syphilis. No, like I've got a hive of bees in my balls. I need unconventional adjectives. I need thermonuclear adjectives, wrapped inside a cobalt shell. I might have to invent some, like "FUCKBLASTIC-CUMTASTIC" or "SHITTYTITTY-COCKFUCKNOMINAL". Or maybe I'll just start throwing random words into a bucket to see what happens. I've...dude, you've just got to sit down and let me tell you how stupendous this movie was!
Runtime[edit | edit source]
Ok, so it's ten hours long —
Wait! Don't walk off. Yes, I KNOW, you're thinking "ten hours? Are you insane?" Dude, it is so WORTH IT. For the first three hours, the movie wraps you in its embrace so thoroughly that you don't realize how much time has passed. You spend the next seven hours having a perpetual mind-gasm as you sink into acceptance and delirious delight, hoping that it keeps going forever and ever and ever. You don't even care that they'll have to scrape your dessicated corpse out of the theater six months from now. It's like freebasing cocaine while jumping out of a burning 747 with no parachute, while banging a nun. It is fucking MONUMENTAL.
The book[edit | edit source]
It was based on The Infernal Longing, a book that was undiscovered until ten years ago. Imagine a five-hundred-year-old manuscript started by Leonardo da Vinci himself, which all the best writers through time have contributed to: folks like Shakespeare and Mark Twain and Samuel Beckett and Oscar Wilde and Jules Verne and Italo Calvino and Umberto Eco and Phillip K. Dick and ZOMG AWESOME! Now imagine that massive work of incredible art wasn't just a wad of ape-shit insanity—it's a COMPLETELY coherent novel. Yeah. That's The Infernal Longing, bro. When the last author was finished, he dropped all six thousand pages into Quentin Tarantino's lap and said "Now make a screenplay out of that, bitch." And Tarantino bowed his head and said "Fuck it, I can't. It's already a perfect screenplay."
Yeah.
The director[edit | edit source]
Then they got Akira Kurosawa to direct it. Oh, man is he off the chain!
Wait.
You've never heard of Akira Kurosawa?!? Dude! HOW CAN YOU FUCKING SAY YOU'VE NEVER HEARD OF AKIRA KUROSAWA? He's not just a "good" director or an "adequate" director, he is ninja—the most motherfuckingly awesome attack-assassin ever to grace Earth with a movie. IN THE HISTORY OF EVER. He did Yojimbo and Seven Samurai and Ikiru and fifteen hundred other movies that were equally tremendous but whose names I can't remember. As a matter of fact, he was such a colossal chunk of "holy shit!" that AsianWeek Magazine[1] and CNN both gave him the "Asian of the Century award".[2] Have you ever gotten the Asian of the Century award? No? Oh, right, you couldn't, because Akira Kurosawa already got it! He's so awesome, they brought his corpse out of cryogenic stasis and reanimated it, just to direct this movie—because he's been dead since 1998!
The cast[edit | edit source]
Who's in it? EVERYONE. No, not EVERYONE, just EVERYONE AWESOME. It's got Sean Connery, Diane Kruger, Jim Carrey, Steve Carrell, Natalie Portman, Leonardo DiCaprio, Scarlett Johansson, Colin Firth, Jessica Alba, Johnny Depp, Jessica Biel, Samuel L. Jackson, Christoph Waltz, Brad Pitt and George Clooney (of course, they're a package deal), Matt Damon without Ben Affleck, Michael Caine, Zoey Deschanel, Dwayne "The Rock" Johnson, Cate Blanchette, Angelina Jolie...aw, MAN, there are so many awesome people in this movie that I think I forgot most of them. And Nick Cage is in it, too, but we're not talking about weird-indie-movie Nick Cage, we're talking about Nick Cage at his John Woo, scenery-chewing B-movie grandest. He covers himself in napalm and nitroglycerin and detonates himself about two hours in — and you're like, "Fuck! That is the most movingly poetic self-sacrifice I have ever seen!"
And half-way through it, Dane Cook does a cameo, a motherfucking awesome cameo, where he just stands still for thirty seconds, mugging for the camera in a way that reminds you of Charlie Chaplin at his best...and then King Kong feeds him to the T-Rex while Kate Winslet and Kiera Knightley have a passionate three-way with Olivia Wilde. Yes, you heard me right: DANE COOK IS IN THIS MOVIE, AND HE HAS NO SPOKEN LINES—except for the screaming, of course! Also, those chicks are, like, totally nude for the whole ten hours!
The plot[edit | edit source]
The plot? Aw, dude! How to describe it! Words are poor and cheap and mean, devoid of descriptive fire, by comparison. Suffice it to say that the plot is Pure-Distilled Murder, Steeped in the Tears of Virgins, with a side serving of A Shotgun to the Gut and A Five-Gallon Bucket of Liquid LSD. There are explosions and sex and poetry and King Kong and dinosaurs and laser fights, and yeah, I ran out of superlatives twenty-five sentences ago, but the plot will BLOW your MIND. No. Actually, it will blow off the top of your head, rip your brain out, stomp on it, eat it, then shit it off a thirty-thousand-foot cliff and sew it back into your skull. And then do it all again. FIVE TIMES. And it's more than just plot—everything about this movie is done to perfection, from the character development to the tone and atmosphere to the score. The score was a collaboration between John Williams and Enio Morricone! Class? This movie has class out the ass!
Imagine a world, fifty years from now, where humans can no longer express emotions—not even love. Then one day, a massive spacecraft arrives, full of swine-like aliens (stay with me, it totally works in context), who will destroy Earth if the humans don't stop consuming pork—stop laughing!—and prove that they are redeemable. The faceless hero—you literally don't see his face until the end of the movie, and then it's the biggest mind-fuck of all—goes on an epic journey across time to find the Temple of the Everlasting Cuisine, where the monks protect an ancient weapon called the Heart of Celery. Only near the end of the movie is it revealed—get this—that the alien invaders are really robots from a failed human experiment to create artificial pork! And everyone discovers that sweet, delicious pork is nothing, if you don't have the love of your fellow terrestrial beings. The movie ends with the camera pulling back from the hero, in a massive 360-degree crane shot, as a single tear runs down his left cheek...onto the body of a dead little girl, who's lying with all her internal armatures and machinery exposed. Because, you see, the humans are robots, too! Ha! Didn't I say it was awesome? Stanley Kubrick would have masturbated to the plot of this movie, if he'd known it existed!
Well, OK, fine, laugh until snot comes out your nose. I mean, it was only written by geniuses of literature, and transmuted to film by an undead cinema master and fifty of our generation's greatest dramatic talents. But, yeah, I guess that my pathetic words couldn't impress upon you the full emotional impact of this movie. What, are you stupid? GO SEE THE GODDAMNED MOVIE YOURSELF!
The spoilers[edit | edit source]
Wait, what? There is no such movie? There never was? What do you mean "Michael Caine has refused to work with Sean Connery for 36 years because of the latter's incessant demands and bitchiness during the filming of The Man Who Would Be King?"
Anyway, if there's no such movie, then what the fuck did I just spend ten hours watching?
"A hallucinatory dream"? Man you use big words. Now that you mention it, I do vaguely remember swallowing a bunch of Ecstasy pills last night. Huh! And we do seem to be standing in an alley, Officer, although how we got here, or how my pants went missing, or why I'm covered in cum, blood and vomit, I really can't say. However, I can tell you I had nothing to do with that dead hooker over there. I mean, that looks like a dead hooker, so I'm just going off of appearances. Appearances lie, of course! Which is why you should remember that when you "assume" things, it makes an "ass" out of "u" and "me". Right, Officers?
No?
