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Today we will be discussing the film Lovelace, which if I am not mistaken was initially offered to Lindsey Lohan. If the rumors are true that Lindsey Lohan was going to play Linda Lovelace it would have resulted in a very different film. Let me begin this review with a disclaimer; Peter Sarsgaard might be the best actor working in Hollywood today. Now that I got that out of the way let’s discuss this brilliant piece of film-making.

The title role is played by Amanda Seyfried who somehow transforms herself into a vulnerable porn star with a penchant for choosing the wrong man to be with. Her arc as a character is absolutely astounding. Whether it is the relationship she has with her Mother (played by Sharon Stone) or the conversation she has with her husband Chuck (Peter Sarsgaard) the subtle strokes of awkward naivety allows the audience to believe that her plight is not that of an ignorant person but that of a hopeful fairy attempting to find something missing in her heart.

Naturally her intrigue into the opposite sex roots from the desire to keep her husband happy; a common theme in the the 1970’s. However, it is this absolute belief that corners her into a world full of drugs, alcohol and sexual exploits.

Most of the male characters are full of absolute wickedness until a uneven and virtually awful rendition of Hugh Hefner is revealed. Hefner is played with all of the personality of a slug by the incredibly untalented James Franco who somehow keeps getting work despite his complete lack of an emotional or personal redeeming qualities.

While the real Linda Lovelace is even more layered than the film which derives its split personality from her book “Ordeal” I would recommend the film based on the exceptional work by the director/ writer who reveals a behind the scenes vignette which in turn makes the audience complacent in the overall transformation of Linda Lovelace from a porn star to a empowered women’s rights activist.





Oh how the years have changed me

2003 In Iraq










2008 in Iraq











2012 in Iraq


Review of a play at the Shakespeare festival

Stephen McGill

July 21, 2011

Essay #1

Shakespeare Festival


Julius Caesar

     I once heard a curious theatergoer declare that she had seen many versions of Julius Caesar. I being that of curious mind and body encouraged her to elaborate on the yarn that she was in the middle of weaving. When she continued she explained her favorite version of Julius Caesar, it began with two sides of the stage marked by a rebel side and a conspirator side. She apparently had worked on the props and found them all to be cumbersome and wildly difficult to procure. Shortly thereafter I read the play and envisioned such action unfolding before my eyes, one scene in particular at the Senate where Caesars’ life was taken intrigued me. I viewed that scene as where the plot shifted from one type of story to another. If I was to re-write the play I would elongate the conspirator’s attempts at execution and end the play with the execution itself, but that as they say is neither here nor there.

The 2011 Shakespeare Festival featured the play Julius Caesar and I was thrilled to be able to finally have it presented in front of me by professionals, but as many plays decide on choices I was bamboozled by certain choices and pleasantly surprised by other.

My first concern was audience involvement. While audience involvement in certain plays may create an environment whereas the audience is brought closer into the story a sign, hand signal, for audience involvement in a Shakespeare play can be confusing and a bit off putting. Ideally the choice for a minimalistic stage should allow the actors to breathe life into the characters, however with boisterous clapping a wall was placed between the audience and the characters.

Ideally an emotional connection would be made with the characters at hand, however with a minimalist approach to the play and jubilation in the form of audience involved clapping detached the audience from the inner turmoil that should have come with the death of Caesar herself.

The most pleasing choice that I found in the play was that of Caesar being dead yet walking around whispering to Brutus which showed the complete loyalty to Caesar (played by a woman) yet a haunted nature in regards to the inner turmoil that Brutus felt. In the text itself it read as if Brutus was hearing voices, the choice to have Caesar to walk towards and around Brutus with white chalk on her hands created an atmosphere of great shame felt internally for Brutus.

Another example that fell short for me was the choice of position of chairs. The chairs presented an ease for the actors who would have had to stand off the stage in order to interject their voices into the scenes created a distraction that focused the attention from the stage to the audience, thus creating another disconnection from the characters themselves. Ideally, the characters would have been honored on the stage by their presence being shown as special.

When characters are held on stage but have little to no reason for being on the stage it devalues that action or weight of the character creating a lowered value for the character themselves. For example the presence of Caesar after death did empower the character due to the weight of the character labeling death onto the characters that fell. The interpretation overall was lacking in real character development and did a poor job of using the characters as real people, they seemed to be caricatures of themselves, for example Brutus who is supposed to be a massive warrior was played by an overweight out of shape actor which distracted from the character written by Shakespeare.

The one character that showed a complete connection with the audience was that of Mark Antony who was respected on the stage via his personal connection with the love of Caesar and not being pulled to a chair in order to add partial presence on the stage. The particular line of “Friends, Romans, and Countrymen, lend me your ears.” (Julius Caesar Act 3 Scene 2) is arguably one of the more famous lines from the play Julius Caesar, it is spoken by Antony who opens the funeral of famous lead of the play with words that request the audience to pay attention and listen to the heartfelt words that he is to deliver. Mark Antony then famously enacts a crowd of fevered countrymen to avenge the death of their fallen hero.

One of my other major concerns for the play was that of jeans. While jeans may have played a part in later years it was not particularly popular in the time of Caesar, for me it was a major distraction.

All together the play fell short for me due to the forced jubilation and some of the attire, but overall the words were not to blame it was that of the choices made by the director.

Snippet of a story I was working on



It was June 2009, and I was standing in front of a full-length mirror studying my body.

What I saw didn’t please me. My eyes were deep with wrinkles and lines, while my knuckles were raw from scratching at the walls; vacant and deathly white chunks of skin, I realized with a certain amount of terror, were forever scarred by my escapades. It was very depressing.


“You’re an athlete,” I told myself. “You’re a celebrity. They know you all over, nationally and internationally. Too many people know you. You rarely have any peace and quiet.” I forgot my point. I imagine I was trying to motivate myself but it was all falling miserably short of any pep talk I had ever heard. Mostly because I looked like a hobo.

My shoulders slouched as if I were an elderly person. I felt a tinge of the world ending in front of me. What had turned out to be a small point of concern had become a tear in my arm, the arm that was supposed to save me, had failed me. My life had become an existence that I was becoming less and less familiar with.


I saw the beginning of liver spots forming on my face; I imagined a life that I had appreciated so little falling away from me like the cab that took my husband and kids away.  I searched for something presentable on my body but only found more disappointment when I curiously stared at my pot belly, as if it were an alien. I stared at it and then twisted my back and suffered the customary stab of pain in my coccyx, aggravated by passing out repeatedly on a soft mattress I was addicted to. The tendinitis in my shoulder throbbed.


My toe and finger nails were also a disgrace, permanently blackened by the toxins I had ingested thousands of times. They called it medicine, I called it poison. My asshole itched. My knees hurt. My toe-nails or what little was left of them were brittle and chipped, making them razor sharp and destructive. My ears were clogged by cotton I had stuffed in them to avoid the real world. So were my sinuses and for the same reason. Needless to say I was not thrilled with my state of being.


I walked away from the mirror and stumbled onto a table. The table collapsed under my mass with its contents spilled across the flooring of my room. I kicked a small potted plant out of the window that overlooked the courtyard. The broken glass fell conveniently outside. I raised my arms in celebration but my collarbone protested and I slowly lowered my arms.


The phone rang. I ignored it. I wanted to be alone. I wanted to be sullen. I wanted to lick my wounds and allow the earth to engulf me. I punched the mirror for turning on me and bled on myself for thirty minutes. I bled the life blood of my existence out forever. I looked out the window and stared at the broken potted plant. I was broken also and for the same reason.



            My first day out of the rehabilitation center should have been happy times. It was supposed to represent a new freedom for me. It was supposed to represent a real change in lifestyle for me but I was nervous. I felt as though I had been birthed out into the world as an infant and could not wrap my mind around my own survival.  In a previous life I had an agent named Tom Phelps. Tom was the kind of guy that would sell a liver in order to get a television show green lit. He was the kind of guy that made deals for celebrities before he had the celebrity under contract. He was the ambulance chaser of agents. He also wore finely tailored suits and paid a limousine company to drive him around, even if he only needed to drive to the supermarket. I was his lone athlete.


“I got a call from the New Mexico Rangers, they want to know if you are available,” Tom said while greeting me at the golden arches entrance in front of the rehab center. I stared at him and then uttered “why?”


The limousine smelled of cocaine and prostitutes, a smell that followed Tom from location to location.

“I got your pages from the center, although I am not sure what to do with them.” Tom said.

“Didn’t you say that publishing my story would be good for my career?”

“I believe I said that it could potentially be good for your career.”

“I don’t understand the difference.”

“The difference is that if you staged a comeback while simultaneously published a tell- all book, that potentially you could make a good thing great. Thus the information of, I got a call from the Rangers.”


“I don’t know if I can lace it up again.”


“Then why am I here?”


“I thought you were here because you cared?”


“Is that really what you thought?”


“I suppose I did.”


“How long have we been together, seven or eight years now?”


“Are we talking good years or the years that I couldn’t get ahold of you?”


“Even if we threw those years out, it is still a significant amount of time.”

“Three good years but a total of seven.”


“The number is irrelevant at this point. The point is that I need you to lace it up if we are going to have any kind of relationship. I am here today to salvage your career. If you don’t want to salvage it I can leave.”
“What about the book?”


“I can get any sophomore in college to write a book. I don’t deal with books; I deal with real world economics. Books are……Do you want to be a Shakespeare or Nolan Ryan because those are two distinctly different paths.”


“I want to get better.”


“Are you looking for sympathy, because sympathy doesn’t drive a limo, sympathy takes the bus. If you want to take the bus you tell me, we can pull over.”


“How about a break?”


“You know who takes breaks? Old people. Are you old? Do you need a nap and a hot towel?”


I wanted to explain to him that I had peaked in life that my last game had been played but he stared at me with the eyes of a shark and I folded. I should have known better but the idea of being alone frightened me. I hadn’t been alone since I was in High School and High School had been many years prior. I said “I will sign with the Rangers.” Tom clapped his hands to himself, breathed a sigh of relief then said “Good, now I don’t have to kick you out of the car.”



            My first day in a Rangers uniform seemed odd. I felt ill prepared for a new team in a new city.  It was like the first day of school all over again and I was the new kid. The kid that rumor had it had been expelled from their previous school. I picked at my cleat for ten minutes while in uniform. My stomach turned. I didn’t want to cry. I missed my husband. I missed my daughters. I wanted to be held for hours on end by a parental figure.  I grabbed my cell phone out of my locker and dialed the last number I had on Phil. I waited for it to ring for the twentieth time since I left my rehab center. “We’re sorry; this number has been disconnected or is no longer in use.”


I stared blankly at the ground in front of me. I wanted to scream out but instead stared at my uniform. I looked at its buttons lined up the middle of my torso and read the name “Rangers” spelled out in large letters. A single tear dropped from my eye in between the “n” and the “g.”


I had worn a New York Bombers jersey for seven years and never thought that I would be on another team. I thought I would retire as the first female baseball player in a Bombers jersey. I thought I had rocked the system by pitching the team out of many “jams.” Their words not mine. I thought I had finally fought off all of the stereotypes for women within a male locker room. I suppose with my own personal bathroom and changing area I had upset many players in the Bombers locker room, but now with the Rangers I would have to start all over again. I would have to listen to the cat calls and back handed compliments all over.


The Rangers schedule seemed odd to me for some reason, mostly due to its complete opposition to the Bombers schedule. When the Rangers stretched, the Bombers would have been throwing. When the Rangers threw, the Bombers would have been warming up. I felt the slight tear at my arm with every throw. I felt a separation at the scar in my shoulder stretch and then compress.


My new pitching coach, Earl Thomas, was old. He reminded me of my maternal Grandmother who always called me a “tomboy.” Earl wouldn’t look me in the eyes when he talked me. “So what do you got there Reilly?” “What do you mean?” I responded softly.


“Well, you see I have a curve ball pitcher, a fast ball pitcher and a split ball pitcher. What do you do?”


“I pitch a sinker, a fastball and a curve.”


“Let me see your fastball.”


I pulled my arm back and flung the ball towards the awaiting catcher. I looked at Earl for support but received his catch phrase in substitute, “not good enough.”


Earl walked away while I caught the ball from the catcher.  From what I had heard of Earl, he never smiled. I knew I was out of shape and I didn’t deserve a smile though. My fast ball which had once been clocked at ninety-two now barely clocked in at eighty-six.  While six miles per hour seemed to some to be insignificant to the game it was the difference between making the team and staying home.


Some people say home is where the heart is and other people say that home is that warm place in your heart that all of your hopes and dreams live. I thought about my home or lack thereof and stood in silence. The world’s noises filled my ears with chatter from other players and the silence footsteps of squirrels prancing around the outfield beyond the fence. I took it all in and processed it. What did it all mean? What was I doing here? How had I become thirty-three years old and burnt out?


The year was 2000 and I was the number one starting pitcher for the University of Arizona Wildcats softball team.  I pitched underhand with an enlarged windup and a two-step shift from left to right delivery. The manager of the team had once called me “The best pitcher on the team with the worst mechanics.” I took it as a compliment but I am sure that it was some kind of insult.  I liked my delivery I thought it was clean and well prepared.

What I lacked in technique I made up with sheer determination as I struck out an average twelve batters a game. Most of the girls in college were free swinging on and off the playing field. The running joke at the beginning of every year was that our clean-up hitter would be pregnant before the first game of the season, but each year she made it through it while sleeping around, or at least the rumor was that she slept around. I couldn’t keep up with her antics. It all seemed reasonable to me as she had lost her father in the first Persian Gulf War.


My father, John Reilly, was extremely proud of me as he had saved a large sum of money for my sister Debra and I to go to college when he found out that I had earned a scholarship, he immediately bought himself a Porsche. It was repossessed six months later.


Debra Reilly was not as lucky as I was. She didn’t have the grades to go to college and my parents didn’t have the money to send her. So she ended out joining the military. It all seemed a bit odd to me but after two years in the service she had her first child and then a year after she had her second, but she was happy with her military husband, Hank.

February 3, 2008 (Email from Baghdad, Iraq)

Due to boredom or sincere hatred of being stuck in such a ridiculous location, my friends and I have turned on each other.  It is not a nasty rivalry; it is more of a playful fun way of jabbing at each other.  Believe me we all have respect for each other, but it gets a little dull being polite to these jokers, hence tomfoolery ensues. One recent action left one of buddies in a close to tearful state. In began with him leaving his notebook unsecured and his girlfriends phone number on the front page, well the rest of the section and I took it upon ourselves to lift said number from said notebook and may or may have not called said friends girlfriend while said friend was in another office attempting to fix a machine.  In order to mend this bridge we may have called him while his girlfriend was on speakerphone so they could talk to each other. However, every time we called him and attempted to connect him to his lady friend he hung up.  We eventually decided to tell his girlfriend that he did not want to talk to her.  I am sure that they will break up soon which is really convenient because we already have her phone number.

Every Saturday we play a wonderful impromptu game of volleyball, one in which the whole battalion is involved in. usually we all just pick a side and start playing, but if a larger group of people show up we end out picking team via two captains. It reminds me a lot of elementary school, how we would all line up and be picked by our skill set in the event we would be participating in. Somehow I would always be picked either last while getting the bitter beer face made towards me or I would be picked in the top tier of the grouping while being teased the whole game for my inadequate play.  A recent event in volleyball left us all with a wonderful story that we all will remember. One of the players on my team was going for the ball but the ball kept drifting over her head so she attempted to move out of the way to allow the CSM who was behind her to get it, however the CSM stood his ground without attempting to react towards the play, possibly in anticipation for his teammate calling the ball.  Our crowning achievement was the next moment though.  In the next instant the ball decided it was on a one way course to the crotch of our highest enlisted soldier.  It hit with such force that it bounced off of his crotch as if there was a metal plate sewn into his pants.  He stood his grown though while everyone laughed their asses off.  I am still laughing and it has been two days.

I have learned many things during this deployment, one of the more recent lessons learned I received from a commercial that played during the SUPERBOWL.  We are not graced with the wonderful commercials that the SUPERBOWL normally plays because we view television through the Armed Forces Network, meaning we are force fed Army re-enlistment, Army Equal Opportunity and or thanks from any random number of pseudo celebrities who put on a fake smile and thank us for accomplishments that they know nothing about.  The point being that one of the commercials during the SUPERBOWL that played was about taking care of your baby, more specifically not shaking your baby. Now I have been shaking babies for a long while now, but when this played I learned my lesson, no more baby shaking for me.  I will just go back to playing with matches in the house and smoking while filling up my car with gasoline.

It has been a few days but my knee is still tender from an unfortunate rendezvous with a concrete slab. That slab hasn’t called me back either and that really bothers me.  I have been rubbing it with icy hot in an attempt to be able to bend it; however this medicated rub has only worked as a temporary fix so far.  The timing could not have been worse, I was all excited to run a 10K but alas my 10K was not meant to be.  When I woke up the morning of the run I could not bend my knee at all and felt the bruising raise up into the middle of thigh.  I have decided that I need to go to sick call and have it looked at by a Doctor who I cannot sue for malpractice. What a wonderful world of incompetence we live in sometimes. The Doctors of the Army are well known for their flow chart use, when I was active duty I actually had a Doctor tell me, he was serious at the time, “You either have a common cold or psoriasis”.  I am not the smartest person but I am pretty sure that psoriasis is a skin condition. It reminds me off an old riddle, what do you call a doctor who graduates last in Medical school?  Doctor.

Cover Letter

I have been looking for a second job recently and wanted to share my cover letter here, I would hope that people (readers of this blog) would comment or at least inform me of openings throughout the greater puget sound area. I like my primary occupation now but am in need of a supplement to my income via a second job during the day:

Stephen McGill


6824 19th street west #213                                                               206-455-0135

University Place, WA 98466                                                



I am actively seeking an opportunity with your company, preferably in an operations role. My educational and professional background has equipped me with a multitude of skills, and I would like to continue my growth within your organization. I currently have a Bachelor’s degree in Politics, Philosophy and Economics (University of Washington).


Throughout my career in the defense and security field, I have demonstrated for my employers an exceptional operational facility for meeting organizational objectives and demands. I have developed the skills that ensure the highest level of competence, time management and confidentiality. I am certain I would prove to be an asset at your organization as well. I also have extensive Microsoft office experience which includes: powerpoint, word, excel, etc. spending a tremendous amount of time as an active directory manager and a software principle manager having my specific title listed as a Network Administrator. Furthermore, I have designed, planned, and implemented security and network policy software.


I have also worked in project management for four years in the Communications field, managing over 3,000 employees. For two years I worked at the Naval Special Warfare Development Group as a project manager (managing over 500 employees), for a year I worked as a project manager with Global Integrated Security (managing over 3,000) and presently I work as the Vice-President (Project Manager) of a software development company called Swift Bend.


I am a hardworking and reliable person always looking to better myself and learn new skills. A career at your organization would be very rewarding. I am sure if I am given the opportunity to meet with you personally I will be able to tell you more about my achievements and aspirations. I also have considerable time as the head of network and or management in regards to administrative work. For example, I have authored many memorandums and created many standard operational procedure protocols for operational security.


Thank you in advance for your time in considering me for a position.



Stephen McGill

End of an era

The movie industry has a huge problem on its hands. With companies like Warner Brothers, Miramax, Walt Disney and Sony pictures green lighting less and less movies per year the opportunity to find a smaller budgeted film in a world full of huge explosions is withering. For example, would you, as a studio, green light a picture with a 100 million dollar budget that could potentially net you riches of upwards of 300 million dollars (that is save a studio money) or would you prefer to green light a rather pedestrian budget of 5 million with the potential to lose the 5 million or possibly squeak out a mere 1 million if you are lucky? Ideally, the film industry should be worried about the experience that people are having in the theaters and should be introducing a lower cost in order to combat bootlegging. I assure you that if prices came down from the industry average of $8.38 per ticket to a more reasonable $5.00 a ticket that less people would bootleg movies and or download them from file sharing sites.

The model for lower cost to build consumers is a basic economic term called supply and demand. Let’s assume that the demand stays stagnant and the supply curve lowers the total cost of said item:

Basic supply and Demand curve


As you can see from the basic diagram there is a dollar amount and a total items purchased amount. If the demand for said item stays stagnant (people who want to see movies) and the price is dropped (in the figure it is a lower dollar amount) than more people will physically go to the movie and less people will bootleg the movies.




If you are well versed in the gross sales per year of movie tickets sold than you could argue that although there is a bootlegging problem growing that movie tickets are actually up (11.6 billion). However, if you factor in inflation and the lost revenue from an industry that has gauged its consumer, than the amount of loss revenue potential deviates into a black hole of lost earning potential. How much that loss is would be extremely difficult to ascertain.

I love movies, but my choices in movies are usually more in the documentary or independent film basis. I just hope for the sake of the industry that the fat cats who greenlight films understand that although the risk/reward for a big budget film is bigger than that of a smaller budget film the potential for the one film to be a great film is actually a statistical anomaly. I base that idea whole heartrendingly on the basic flip of a coin. If the coin is flipped fifty times you may end up with twenty five tails or possibly no tails at all. The basic premise being that for every movie that is made there is a potential that it will not reach an audience thus not make any money. If you can only green light ten films a year due to budget constraints that your potential for earnings is based on the five movies that will be successful. What if those five movies happen to be the lower budget films and your studio doesn’t make their money back?

If I was a large studio I would produce a large number of independent films based on risk/ reward, but that is because I am a conservative spender and would trust that the film-makers would honor their budget. Even if I made ten films at three million a film that is only thirty million dollars and the potential for one of those films (Blair Witch Project) to make 100 million dollars is higher if I mitigate my risk.

So what is going to happen with the film industry? I predict a large backlash to bigger films or a premium being placed on bigger budget films. For example, if you want to see this independent film it will cost you ($5.00) but if you want to see the new Die Hard (15) it will cost you ($10.00) based on budget. I am not saying that the model will work I am merely demonstrating the ignorance of the film industry who have been proposing such an idea even-though the idea of tacking on a premium to big budget films would only encourage more bootlegging.

I would wish them luck but they wouldn’t know what to do with it. They would probably make another Die Hard with it. Die Hard 15: wishing luck.


Confessions of a Dangerous Mind

Sometimes there are books or movies that capture your soul at a time when your soul is available to be caught. In 2003, right before the initial push into Iraq, I was in Kuwait waiting for orders to come down from the big brass. I would spend my days on extra duty and my nights cracking open any book I could find on post. I wanted to distance myself from my own forgettable existence and into the delightful elegance of a sweet novella. I wanted to distance myself from reality but at the same time I wanted a story that I could grab me by the shirt collar and drive me into a life unlike my own. Incidentally this was about the same time that I imagined myself as Sam from Quantum Leap. If you have never seen Quantum Leap, I can only explain it in the terms of its opening sequence. As follows:

One of the few gems that I found in the box of randoms was a book called Confessions of a Dangerous Mind. From the first moment I pealed open the front page until the moment that I flipped to the back cover I felt a deep, personal connection to it. I felt as thought I had lived as Chuck Barris in a previous life.

A few months went by and my deployment lagged on. I was pulled into a hundred different directions all seemingly at the same time.

When I finally returned home I found out that the book that I had read had been adapted into a film starring George Clooney, Sam Rockwell, Julia Roberts and Drew Barrymore. However, the real key to the film for me was the fact that Charlie Kaufman, an incredible writer, had written the screenplay (later Kaufman distanced himself from it).

I immediately purchased the movie at a local store and watched it at home while my newborn attempted to take her first steps.

The movie in a single word is excellent. It is one of my favorite films of all times and watch it at least once a year. I assure you that if you like movies and aren’t a complete tool than you will like this movie. Or maybe I am wrong. I was wrong about new coke.


The Perks of being a Wallflower

Periodically I engage in a relationship with my high school years via film. My high school years were absolutely disappointing and embarrassingly painful thus my visits are brief and filled with angst. The high school films that touch on the outcast or disenfranchisement of individuals based on their own originality fill me full of anxiety and force me into reflecting on my own discouragement thus I attempt to dodge such films. In addition to the  overall discomfort I find in watching these films, I am usually disappointed by their lack of original dialogue or a point of view that has not been completely bastardized by a long list of older films.

If you have seen films such as Fast Times at Ridgemont High, Juno, Mean Girls, Easy A, Election, or Superbad than you can usually piece together the plot and or dialogue setup/punch-line of most high school films. That being said, the overall feel and plot direction of the film The Perks of being a Wallflower seems rather fresh and original. The story stems from an individual high school boys point of view which is usually full of erection jokes and the chasing of poorly written sex objects.

However, in the film The Perks of being a Wallflower the scenes seem to work mainly because the entire group of main characters are flawed thus show a real genuine and fresh point of view is displayed. I thoroughly enjoyed the film and found myself really pulling for the characters. They seemed to have a real purpose on the screen. They seemed to have fears and a defined purpose. Overall, I recommend this film based on a few factors; genuine characters, well developed story-line, plot points that are original, and an overall feel that seems new.


The Heat

Today I will be discussing the new film The Heat. As you may have noticed, I used the word ‘new’ sadly the film is not new in anyway. The film is your basic buddy comedy with a lame story line. The story line is extremely predictable and the banter between the two stars (Sandra Bullock and Melissa McCarthy) is the only saving grace. I have not performed the research but it seems to me that Sandra Bullock has played an FBI agent way too many times. The character is tired and has been overdone. The movie starts with Sandra Bullock solving some kind of mini crime whereas there are stolen guns/ drugs to be found in some kind of hidden chambers in a room that the character has assumed to have never been in. It all comes off very odd and very sequential. What I mean by sequential is that the scenes seem to counter the scene before which is really predictable and extremely boring. The only funny scenes are the scenes in which Melissa McCarthy seems to be riffing. She seems to have a snappy comeback for all of the comments that other characters have which is funny for the first ten to fifteen times.

Overall the movie is terribly boring and completely predictable. I nearly fell asleep at the beginning of the film. I wish the writers would have worked more on the story line than the snappy comebacks from the comic relief. Essentially, this movie is just like every investigation movie you have ever seen. There is a list for the potential bad guys and than of course there is a twist where there is an insider. It is such crap. Truth be told the more I think about it the more I hated it. Just don’t see it. The movie is awful.