The social life cup isn't running over in the part of the world I'm in right now. Unless I find the sound of crickets exciting, I have to haul over to the Blockbuster 25 miles away for my movie fixins. A friend rented these gems for me to watch over the past few days:
Rain: A story of a musically talented black girl who has no idea why she 9 shades lighter than the rest of her "urban" family (Khandi Alexander and a surprisingly beat-up and cracked out looking Giancarlo Esposito) finds out she was abandoned by her white mama at birth. Based on the book by V.C. Andrews (Flowers in the Attic), it is a testament to why rich, white, privileged novelists should never attempt to write a book about gritty ghetto life. The results are fairly hilarious and not a bit realistic. Faye Dunaway plays Rain's grandmother who she comes to live with, and her face now looks like it was put together with several others' body parts. The theme song is repeated ad nauseum, to the point that if it weren't rented, I would have chucked it out the window for a tractor to run over.
Gas: Stars Flex Alexander, Sticky Fingaz, and Tyson Beckford (?!) as gas station attendants. 'Nuff said.
The Salon: *sigh* It wears me out to even type about this travesty. Take all of the worst sub-plot elements of every beauty and barbershop movie, roll them up in a cow-pie, wrap it with Vivica Fox, and add a 3 minute dash (literally) of Terrence Howard looking like he stepped out of an ashtray, and you have this movie. I don't know why anybody even bothered to show up. By the time it got to the stock beauty shop "gay guy" speech that would have made Harvey Milk and Harvey Fierstein proud, I went back to listening to the crickets....it was a lot more interesting. Oh, and Monica Calhoun gets on my nerves.
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