Safe House, a mind numbing experience.

Just got back from the theatre and couldn't wait to punch some words into my little digital love box here. A movie must really be terrible to pull me away from playing Undead Nightmare on my PS3. After all, I only have about thirty more minutes of a day off but I couldn't stand idly by and let anyone who reads this to waste their hard-earned money on a movie that is best suited to be played on the USA network at 3:00 a.m.

Terrible doesn't even begin to describe this monstrous piece of doo-doo butter. First and foremost, the whole thing looks like it was filmed on an iPhone. It was grainy, out of focus, and the color was three shades of anus. In a feeble attempt to mimic the Holy Grail of ass-kicking spy movies, The Bourne Trilogy, the camera operator (or minimum wage flunky they hired out of a crack den as I like to call him) shook the iPhone he was filming on violently, which only exacerbated the high ISO noise inherent in low quality digital imaging products. So on the visual alone this lower than freshman film school project doesn't pass muster.

Secondly, the movie is chock full of B-rate actors, and yes, that includes Ryan Reynolds. Ryan Reynolds is mildly funny when starring in a movie in which he can talk about his cock for two hours, but when you give him a serious role, he fails and fails miserably. It's almost as if the producers spent six months watching late night Showtime fuck flicks to find a cast whose acting skills couldn't saturate the virgin fibers of a Q-tip. The "quiet villain" looked like the love child of Mahmoud Ahmadinejad and Bette Midler. Even the most forgiving viewer couldn't possibly take him seriously. Langley was predictably staffed with scar-faced suits with a female lead. You know, equal opportunity employer even if the shit is getting real kind of place. They even borrowed some 24 Season One props for background imagery. Which gave me a false sense of optimism that Jack Bauer was going to drop through the ceiling and relegate these pansies back to soft porn. (One should never lose hope)

Lastly, the story line is as tired and beat up as Lisa Lampanelli's girl parts. It's like they flew NBC's cop drama writers in to ascertain that this movie would bring the predictable suck that a truck stop restroom is known for. The bad guy ends up being the good guy but because the good guy dies, his protege carries his torch all while flushing his promotion down the toilet. Give it a fucking rest guys. I would of rather watched Samuel L Jackson paint fecal matter on an orphan child's bicycle than to have had to sit through the visual enema that was "Safe House."

Save your money kids, this one's a flop...