MR. AND MRS. SMITH-Rated PG-13 for envy caused by being forced to recognize how ugly you are.
This is the story of two really good looking killers or secret agents or bounty hunters who either work for the government or some super-secret shadowy worldwide organization with offices that look like the inside of a spaceship. They're also married, so it is therefore funny.
In the opening scene, the Smiths are in separate rocket cars, bounding across the grassy hills of Africa, followed by a stampeding herd of water buffalo and three absurdly white South Africans with straight blond hair and icy blue eyes, firing shoulder-launched missiles at them from Land Rovers. Thank God for those water buffalo running interference! This scene is so full of close calls that there's only time for one humorous quip, which occurs when the two rocket cars cross the border from South Africa to the relative safety of Namibia. At the border, there is a small white hut with a sign that says "Namibia Customs and Immigration." As he blazes by the hut, Brad Pitt shouts out "Traveling as a family!" to the Namibian customs agent, who duly notes their immigration status in his notebook, just before the herd knocks the hut to the ground. Once the herd has passed a few seconds later, we see the customs agent stand up amid the demolished hut, dazed but unhurt, which indicates that it's ok to laugh at him.
Seconds later, with the Master Race in hot pursuit, Brad and Angelina go flying off the edge of an absurdly high cliff, to certain doom. Seconds later, two parachutes open and we breathe a sigh of relief. It would be a shame to see two people who are so good looking die at the hands of freaks like those icy-eyed racists from South Africa.
Back home in Los Angeles or New York, the Smiths share a glamorous penthouse apartment overlooking either the city or the ocean. Despite their narrow escape from death by South African, they squabble about such things as the fact that Brad leaves his dirty socks in the floor. She gives him a hard time about forgetting to bring milk on his way back from the secret mission, so he reluctantly agrees to go out and get it.
On his way there, of course, he gets a phone call from the President or Commandante of either a Middle Eastern or eastern European country, pleading in an unseemly girly fashion for Brad’s help right away and telling him that a private jet is actually idling right over his left shoulder in the parking lot of the Circle K where he bought the milk. Sure enough, it's there, and he's off on another adventure.
Meanwhile, Angelina is running a hot bath, which is a movie signal for potential nudity. As she removes various layers of secret agent equipment, the scene cuts away to black-hooded commandos rappelling down their building. Just before Angelina drops her robe, they crash through the bathroom door and drag her away, down the elevator and into a black Humvee, which takes her to a secret airport, used by the enemies of the people who sent the jet for Brad.
The rest of the movie is basically the two of them appearing to try really hard to kill each other and despite being the best secret agents, assassins or bounty hunters in the world, they miss all the time. This is convenient, of course, because they're married, which therefore makes it funny.
People criticize Hollywood for making movies without a point, but “Mr. and Mrs. Smith” doesn't fall into that category. It makes one very strong and clear point: Angelina Jolie and Brad Pitt are really good looking. If they had a child, he or she would probably be magical. The unspoken sub-point to this is that you are not only not magical, you really look like crap by comparison.
Without ruining the ending, Brad and Angelina find out that one of the parties in the dispute is really evil and so they join forces, return the nuclear warhead or perhaps the historically or culturally important treasure to the proper authorities and blow the bad guys to hell, while making a wise crack along the lines of "Take it from me. You shouldn't make the Mrs. mad."
In the end, they return to their fabulous apartment (miraculously repaired from the commando raid) and the same scene as from the beginning plays out again. Brad is stretching out his legs to relax in a jacuzzi or perhaps with a martini, when Angelina reminds him that he still hasn't brought back the promised milk.
They're also married, so it is therefore funny.
On a scale from Randy Quaid to Goldie Hawn, this movie is too sexy for its shirt.
This is the story of two really good looking killers or secret agents or bounty hunters who either work for the government or some super-secret shadowy worldwide organization with offices that look like the inside of a spaceship. They're also married, so it is therefore funny.
In the opening scene, the Smiths are in separate rocket cars, bounding across the grassy hills of Africa, followed by a stampeding herd of water buffalo and three absurdly white South Africans with straight blond hair and icy blue eyes, firing shoulder-launched missiles at them from Land Rovers. Thank God for those water buffalo running interference! This scene is so full of close calls that there's only time for one humorous quip, which occurs when the two rocket cars cross the border from South Africa to the relative safety of Namibia. At the border, there is a small white hut with a sign that says "Namibia Customs and Immigration." As he blazes by the hut, Brad Pitt shouts out "Traveling as a family!" to the Namibian customs agent, who duly notes their immigration status in his notebook, just before the herd knocks the hut to the ground. Once the herd has passed a few seconds later, we see the customs agent stand up amid the demolished hut, dazed but unhurt, which indicates that it's ok to laugh at him.
Seconds later, with the Master Race in hot pursuit, Brad and Angelina go flying off the edge of an absurdly high cliff, to certain doom. Seconds later, two parachutes open and we breathe a sigh of relief. It would be a shame to see two people who are so good looking die at the hands of freaks like those icy-eyed racists from South Africa.
Back home in Los Angeles or New York, the Smiths share a glamorous penthouse apartment overlooking either the city or the ocean. Despite their narrow escape from death by South African, they squabble about such things as the fact that Brad leaves his dirty socks in the floor. She gives him a hard time about forgetting to bring milk on his way back from the secret mission, so he reluctantly agrees to go out and get it.
On his way there, of course, he gets a phone call from the President or Commandante of either a Middle Eastern or eastern European country, pleading in an unseemly girly fashion for Brad’s help right away and telling him that a private jet is actually idling right over his left shoulder in the parking lot of the Circle K where he bought the milk. Sure enough, it's there, and he's off on another adventure.
Meanwhile, Angelina is running a hot bath, which is a movie signal for potential nudity. As she removes various layers of secret agent equipment, the scene cuts away to black-hooded commandos rappelling down their building. Just before Angelina drops her robe, they crash through the bathroom door and drag her away, down the elevator and into a black Humvee, which takes her to a secret airport, used by the enemies of the people who sent the jet for Brad.
The rest of the movie is basically the two of them appearing to try really hard to kill each other and despite being the best secret agents, assassins or bounty hunters in the world, they miss all the time. This is convenient, of course, because they're married, which therefore makes it funny.
People criticize Hollywood for making movies without a point, but “Mr. and Mrs. Smith” doesn't fall into that category. It makes one very strong and clear point: Angelina Jolie and Brad Pitt are really good looking. If they had a child, he or she would probably be magical. The unspoken sub-point to this is that you are not only not magical, you really look like crap by comparison.
Without ruining the ending, Brad and Angelina find out that one of the parties in the dispute is really evil and so they join forces, return the nuclear warhead or perhaps the historically or culturally important treasure to the proper authorities and blow the bad guys to hell, while making a wise crack along the lines of "Take it from me. You shouldn't make the Mrs. mad."
In the end, they return to their fabulous apartment (miraculously repaired from the commando raid) and the same scene as from the beginning plays out again. Brad is stretching out his legs to relax in a jacuzzi or perhaps with a martini, when Angelina reminds him that he still hasn't brought back the promised milk.
They're also married, so it is therefore funny.
On a scale from Randy Quaid to Goldie Hawn, this movie is too sexy for its shirt.
posted by Jim McCarthy at 8:40 AM
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