The truth is, [I confided to Alex} I like watching stupid movies and then posting snarky reviews about them on my website; it's much more fun than reviewing genuinely *good* movies.
Being the considerate person he is, Alex was swift to respond....
[I]f you truly love stupid movies, try "Dude Where's my Car?" I felt so much stupider after watching that movie. I seriously think it fried my brain in some way. I'd love to see your review on that one.
This intrigued me. And I became only more intrigued in a few days when I revealed I was taking steps to procure this movie for myself and saw Alex begin to panic.
I was joking about that movie Sweetheart [he declared, going into damage control mode] "Dude Where's My Car?" will melt your brain and I value your intelligence far to much to see that happen.
Needless to say, that clinched it. I simply had to watch that movie...and I did.
Dude, Where's My Car? stars Ashton Kutcher and Seann William Scott as two lovably idiotic stoner roomies who awaken one day after a night of wild, pot-fueled partying to discover that Ashton's car is missing. This puts them in something of a bind because they have each been dating their respective girlfriends for a year and their ladies are expecting anniversary gifts...which are in Ashton's car.
Thus begins a journey to find Ashton's missing set of wheels. A journey that will involve transexual strippers, aliens, bubble-wrap garbed cultists, pot smoking dogs, Fabio, and a French ostrich rancher.
Sophie's Choice this is not.
Was Dude Where's My Car? the cinematic equivalent of a comedy sketch whipped together by highschoolers for their end-of-the-year pep rally? Yes, it was. I am, therefore, left not knowing how to respond when this stupid Ashton Kutcher flick has fewer plot holes than The Da Vinci Code, more internal coherence than The Day After Tomorrow, and is, quite honestly, more compelling than Spider-Man 2. It's also about as funny as Battlefield Earth.
The fact that I am actually praising an Ashton Kutch film (in however a roundabout fashion) is (a) an indication I have lost my mind, (b) proof of the level to which the artistic standards in Hollywood have sunk, or (c) a sign of the Apocalypse. Keep in mind that, unlike our two unlikely heroes, I am not a stoner, so there's little chance anything is wrong with my gray cells.
....Which leaves me wondering: Is Ashton Kutcher the anti-Christ?
Sweet God, please protect us.
Copyright 2006 Jessica Menn