Knocked Up
Or, Kocked Up (sorry, it was a typo in IM, I said I would use it, it’s cheap and nasty but frankly I couldn’t resist, so I’m just getting it out of the way right here).
Okay, let’s start with the excuse: if it weren’t for the Loudon Wainwright III “soundtrack”, this movie probably wouldn’t have even registered for me until it appeared on Sky or something a year or so down the line. Unfortunately, I’d lined this one up to watch before discovering via the Mark Kermode podcast that, in fact, the Loudon Wainwright score (he wrote the songs with the idea in mind that his vocals would be removed and the music used as incidental music, or something, according to an interview on the same podcast) was, I don’t know, forgotten about? And before I go any further, let me say: I really loved The 40 Year Old Virgin so none if this is just some poncy “eww Judd Apatow” vendetta thing.
So basically we’re left with a movie about a couple of idiots who make a baby on a one night stand and we’re supposed to somehow sympathise with them because “This is how it is, man! It’s so real!” not that we could, I don’t know, change the shitty status quo or something?; AND the film makers said, “hmm, you know that Loudon Wainwright III music we somehow got him to do for us? I think we should replace it with stuff that sounds like just about every other gross romantic comedy ever.” Just. Wow. Brains are dying as I type.
I’m just sick of this stuff. The whole “she’s having a baby and it’s drama” thing just does not work for me. And it’s not because I was unlucky enough to pick up a y chromosome on my way here. It’s because this shit should not be seen as such a “hysterical” accepted misery. All the shit that comes with a pregnancy – I’m even being generous to forget the whole one night stand part here, I mean any pregnancy – all of it, you invited it. It’s your payment for the bundle of joy you get at the end. If you don’t want all the shit, then don’t f**king invite it. If you invited it, then see the shit for the beautiful shit that it is. Don’t whine about it. And don’t you fucking DARE make a 2 hour movie out of whining about it. ESPECIALLY if you didn’t even know each other when you touched your privates together. For Christ’s sake. I daren’t even start on the whole, again now seemingly routine, “hi, I’m a man director but look, I make my man characters look like idiots, so … ladies? Come to bed!” crap. I’m just sick of it. And I don’t even consider myself a man. Thank god.
I don’t often do this but I’m posting this before the movie’s even halfway in. Don’t worry – I’ll watch the rest – I’m just scared of what else I’ll say if I leave this entry open any longer. I’ll come back if there’s some massive turn around in my opinion … but I very much doubt there will be such an epiphany. At the very least, we got Wainwright’s “Strange Weirdos” album out of this, so it can’t all be bad. But I can say for sure I’ll never go near the movie that inspired it again.
Edit: Okay, the fact that the one Wainwright song that did finally feature was my favourite “Daughter”, kinda raised it all a little. But damn … the one thing I forgot to mention before posting was, wtf? This thing is over two hours in length. It is way too long and the last 20 minutes are ludicrously drawn out. Bah. I’m just done talking about this one now.