Save the Film Industry...Kill Keanu

Disregarding every single movie review designed to serve as a harbinger of good sense, my friend Will and I decided to take part in a blockbuster movie Friday and take in “The Day the Earth Stood Still.”  As we stood in line to purchase soft drinks and candy, we looked at one another hesitantly, the way two smart people do just before they do something terribly stupid.

“This could be a mistake,” Will said to me, ever the soothsayer.

“The last time I saw a Keanu movie in the theater, it included Dennis Hopper and a bus committed to driving 55,” I told him.  ”I only saw that movie because I’m a big Jeff Daniels fan.”

Figuring the movie couldn’t be as bad as we anticipated, we waltzed into the auditorium on opening night during prime time, surprised to find that the theater was about one third full.  Will suggested that some people, obviously smarter than us, heeded the reviews for the film.

We sat, girding ourselves like a patient at the dentist’s office, waiting for the sharp steel to hit our sensitive parts.  It didn’t take long.

From the pointless opening scene that failed to drive the plot to the end credits that the audience received with sarcastic applause, Will and I belly laughed.  Unfortunately, I’m pretty certain the filmmakers never intended for Reeves and the cast to illicit this type of humorous response.  My favorite part of the movie (I’m convinced that every movie has to include a favorite part, so I had to dig deep to uphold my standards) came when Jennifer Connelly’s character implored Kathy Bates’ federal government shill to work with Liaku (I made that up because, honestly, I didn’t pay attention to the name of Keanu’s character), because, quote, “You don’t understand what he’s capable of!!!”

“Yeah,” I exclaimed, a bit too loud.  ”Point Break.”

In reality, I would have killed for the breadth and acting skill that Reeves brought forth on the set of “Point Break.”  Instead, he served up a performance that made Neo look like he was overacting and Ted (or was it Bill?) come off like Lionel Barrymore.  I fell asleep at least three times, but only for a few moments until Will’s laughter stirred me.  The movie continued to amaze me with its terrible writing, acting that should require a jail sentence, at least at a minimum security federal prison, and a green lighting process more ludicrous than the idea of turning a documentary about my five chickens into next summer’s Hollywood bankroller.  

I wanted to love it.  I wanted to take everything I ever said about Keanu back and send him a written apology.  I wanted to stare at the screen, eyes agape, hoping the experience never ended.  Instead, I wanted to slip into a two-hour coma.  In retrospect, I think I did.