Little Fockers (2010)

    This movie was a piece of shit.  Ok, now that that’s out of the way, let me acknowledge my embarrassment at discussing such a film.  Let me also acknowledge my embarrassment at having seen such a film, let alone on Christmas Day.  I shamefully joined the ranks of wide-waisted Americans sitting smugly for two hours as the cream-of-the-crap rolled by in trailers. Each of which, in its own terms, appropriately introduced this serial shitstorm.  It should be clearly noted that the only reason this writing exists is to express my dismay that the theater was full, the crowds were fat and jolly, and no one seemed to care that their hard-earned dollars were thrown away on complete and utter bull-plop.
    The fact that this is the third of three installments (so far…) is ample indication of the current cinematic state.  It is, both to filmdom and audience alike, insulting and degrading.  One would think, or at least hope, that certain entries of the Cinematic Canon would be untouchable, The Godfather and Jaws come to mind.  But I guess the presence of legendary Robert DeNiro is permission enough to desecrate any former artistic enterprise.  And I would have thought that his career was solid enough not to descend to such depths.  But alas, and this certainly isn’t new, cinema is doomed.  I, and ten of my family members, cast our vote for the studios to continue pumping out juvenile sequels to films that were both overrated and unwarranted.
    The existence of this movie says more than the film itself.  The grandparents come back, trouble ensues, genital jokes, who gives a flying fudge.  Certainly not anyone watching.  The credits roll as characters continue interacting on-screen.  The audience is nonetheless oblivious to this fact.  Instead, they respond to the credit-roll by evacuating the theater as if they just woke up from a long winters nap.  No one really cares what just happened, nor should they.
    It’s embarrassing to be infatuated with movies when most of what people flock to is comparable to what my dog leaves in the backyard.  It’s hard to tell just who the little f*ckers are; the people who keep making the films or the people that keep seeing them.  I sincerely hope this story ends in a trilogy but I might be the only one.  At least Jessica Alba was in it.