Last week I actually saw Swimfan and Signs last weekend, but didn’t bother to comment on them. It’s been a busy week, and, frankly, neither of them really struck me as particularly comment-worthy. The former is a forgettable teen Fatal Attraction that’s not even as good as guilty pleasures like Wild Things and Cruel Intentions while the latter doesn’t deserve to be mentioned in the same sentence as The Sixth Sense or Unbreakable. It was predictable, unsubtle and a bit self-indulgent. I was dissapointed, because The Sixth Sense in particular was so inventive and surprising.
Writer: Okay, I spent, like, three minutes at Carl’s, Jr. coming up with this.
Producer: I like it already.
Writer: Ready? Are you sitting down?
Producer: No, wait, yes.
Writer: It doesn’t matter anyway. This won’t surprise you. Now, imagine a world exactly like the world you’ve seen a million times before. And imagine a plot exactly like a million plots before. A jilted lover turns psycho and stalks the jilting boy and tries to ruin his life.
Producer: (on the edge of seat) Sounds like a lot of other bad movies. I’m listening!
Writer: It’s like Fatal Attraction meets Fatal Attraction, only less scary and way shoddier.
Producer: (picking up phone) Dixie? Please bring in one of those giant cardboard checks we give to writers. Make sure it has lots of zeroes on it. And pronto! (slamming down phone) I’m sold, kid! This is exactly the kind of tired, worn-out, bland thinking we love to reward in this town.