And it's fitting that this film comes from Mexico. Because it's utter...
Basura.
Suddenly, it's more than illegal aliens that we have to worry about sneaking into this country. Now we have to guard ourselves against errant reels of film. In the case of "Instructions Not Included," it's 6 reels of film that likely were hidden in somebody's car trunk with their crazy uncle.
Does anybody know if ICE will deport movies as well?
How the holy hell did I wind up seeing this overripe avocado? Okay, folks, another housekeeper day that I needed to clear out. And, since she's also Spanish, this might be the takeover plan all along. Make the people you work for spend two hours at a movie while we dust. And, if it's a film from our country that will kill a few brain cells, even better.
Admittedly, I had heard good word-of-mouth for "Instructions Not Included." It was the big crowd pleasing movie this summer south of the border. Then it shuttled up to Los Angeles under the cloak of darkness with two dozen gardeners and pool cleaners for Labor Day weekend and it made oodles of American dollars as well. Somehow, it mystically developed some buzz.
I can only assume that the folks talking this movie up are all suffering from macular degeneration. There is absolutely not one positive redeeming quality I could see in this film.
Of course, the movie poster above is cutesy-poo and endearing. It could be the title card for one of ABC Friday night family sitcoms from the 90s. "Full Casa" with the Olsen Twins. Or "Los Matters De Familia" with that Cantinflas-like clone Urkel. But, indeed, this film has no idea what it wants to be or should be. It's nothing more than a chihuahua eating its own spit up.
This mess comes to us from some stooge named Eugenio Derbez. Remember the name and alert the border patrols if you hear he's loose. Derbez is the film's star, writer, director, and editor. For all I know, he might have even whipped up a bowl of guacamole for the Craft Services table. He's a one-man chain gang with his name credited all over the movie. If Derbez ever breaks his nose and learns how to sing "People," he could be the Mexican Barbra Streisand.
Like all criminals, Derbez starts small in the crime department. You sit down for this movie and it's not long before you feel your pocket being picked. Derbez plays Valentin, an Acapulco-based lothario who specializes in having sex with American tourists. Well, one of them is a lowly yoga instructor from Los Angeles named Julie and, faster than you can say "namaste," she is pregnant. Of course, if you're a lowly yoga instructor in Los Angeles, you have no time for a baby. She dumps it on the doorstep of Valentin's adobe and hightails it to wherever lowly yoga instructors go after giving birth.
Naturally, Valentin is ill-suited to be a parent. We certainly discover he's no film maker. He heads to Los Angeles with the baby girl Maggie in search of Mommy. Of course, he takes an often-used transportation source---wait for it---the back of a truck with about four dozen other Mexicans. I'll love to see this movie in the state of Arizona just to hear the booing.
Because things like this always happen this way in Hollywood, Valentin is given a job as a stuntman by the very first person he meets. And, now with a film career, he can settle down with Maggie and, as the title cards tell us, seven "anos" pass. He's suddenly a body double for Johnny Depp and they use one of those Ron Smith Celebrity Look Alikes to portray Jack Sparrow. Or maybe it was one of those characters that hang around Hollywood Boulevard. The people behind me actually thought it was Depp. Okay, then, I'm not the only person stupid enough to see this film.
Of course, in the merry world of Valentin and Maggie, we can't be happy for long. Suddenly, Valentin is in a doctor's office and told that the treatment didn't work and there's not much time left. For him or for the movie, I hope. Nevertheless, this major plot curveball is then virtually ignored for the next 45 minutes. I began to wonder if I imagined the doctor office scene in the first place. That's just how screwy this movie is.
If this movie couldn't be more off the rails at this point, it gets measurably worse. Derbez suddenly turns his film into about six others. The lowly yoga instructor, of course, returns as a high-powered NY attorney and reunites with the daughter. Even the catatonic can tell you the next plot point. And "Instructions Not Included" turns into "Kramer Vs. Kramer." And then into "Ordinary People." And then into "Terms of Endearment." And then....get this...Elvis Presley's "Fun in Acapulco." And then, out of the blue, Derbez stages the most ridiculous ending by providing you with a jolt straight out of "Sixth Sense." You get to see both dead people and Mexicans. Ay caramba.
In the middle of this melee, Derbez goes to even one more unthinkable extreme. He might be paying off a debt or a favor to fellow Mexican director Alfonso Cuaron because you're suddenly watching the most obscene screen plug for 'Gravity" which just opened last week. Trust me. If you're wearing slip-on shoes when you see "Instructions Not Included," you will throw one of them at the screen.
The good news is that the movie does eventually end and I went home to a nice, clean apartment. But, now I'm worried about her next visit in two weeks. I won't be able to survive another movie like "Instructions Not Included." Or maybe I hire somebody from the Ukraine. Gee, I don't think they make many movies.
LEN'S RATING: No stars.
Dinner last night: Super Dodger Dog at NLDS Game #4.
No comments:
Post a Comment