Bird Box

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Bird Box is a  truly stupid movie if ever there was one, and its popularity is a testament to the success of the New World Order in dumbing down America – which is why I am writing this review.

The movie would be better entitled America’s Got No Mind.

It’s difficult to believe that John Malkovich would agree to make this movie.  Didn’t he make The Dancer Upstairs, which incidentally is on my  list of all-time great movies.

I guess there was too much money to resist.

Of course, Hollywood has always asked us to suspend our cognition when viewing a movie, but c’mon, this movie asks too much.

Why can’t we go back to the 50s where a giant spider attacked a town in the movie Tarantula?

Ah, those were the days.

All one had to do was believe that a spider could grow to the size of a two-story house.

But with inflation and the passage of years, Hollywood has grown flabby and profligate.

Likewise the American people whose lazy minds demand evermore preposterous movies.

Bird Box is emblematic of that laziness.

Let us count a few ways.

Why can’t we see the aliens?  If the people who look at the aliens can see them before they succumb, why can’t we?  The fact that Ms. Bullock can see shadows of them through the blindfold suggests that they are indeed there, so then why can’t we see them?

How does one negotiate through forests and a river blindfolded?

Why would being insane confer immunity to the alien’s influence?

Why would a home for the blind necessarily be a refuge for sighted people?

Don’t the odds of Ms. Bullock’s gynecologist being at the refuge at movie’s end seem slightly greater than winning the lottery?

Why does Ms. Bullock not give her children names for years? Given that the children speak fluent English, doesn’t it seem logical that they might ask, “Mommy, why don’t I have a name like everyone else?”


Of course, I could go on.

But in case you think I couldn’t.

Why would a walkie-talkie reach a distance more than a hundred miles down river?  I can’t get mine to work more than a few hundred feet.

Were there no tools in the garage for Mr. Malkovich to hammer down the door leading from the garage to the house?

What would be the mechanism for an alien’s influence traveling through a security camera?

Since Ms. Bullock could partially see the aliens through the blindfold, shouldn’t she be partially affected?

Why are parakeets specially sensitive to the presence of aliens? Are other birds equally sensitive?  Aren’t we owed some explanation?

Why are the people in the refuge walking around beatifically as if they have discovered paradise?  Why aren’t they scared shitless?  How are they sustaining themselves if they can’t farm crops outside the refuge?

It wasn’t just the implausibility of the plot, though.

When I watch a scary movie, I’m not looking for character development.  Quite frankly I don’t give one rat’s ass about their angst.

Nor do I care about ethical issues.

Honestly, I was waiting for this movie to evolve into Sophie’s Choice as the boat lumbered down the rapids.  Was Ms. Bullock really going to choose which child would be compelled to risk life by taking off their blindfold?

Skip that.

I want meat and potatoes.

Just show me money.  And while you’re add it, throw in some wooden acting, campy jokes and plenty of stupid people who can be eaten alive.

Better yet, give me an intelligent horror movie like they used to make in the 50s.

Give me a giant tarantula that zaps everyone into submission.

That’s the America I know and love.










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