The Love Guru. I know. I should have turned it off before the opening credits started to roll. I shouldn’t have had it in my queue in the first place. But I did. And since it was the shortest of my three uninteresting movies, I decided to just get it over with and watch it.
The writing was so bad it made me cringe. Poorly delivered lines like, “I know who can help us. His name is the Love Guru,” while segueing into a shot of the Love Guru’s palace. Sigh. I must believe that people only did this movie because Mike Myers asked them to. Because it was bad. Like sniffing markers behind the cafeteria bad. I lost several brain cells. Now how the heck am I supposed to understand anything about the oxygen consumption of fatigued knees?!?
But then something happened. I started laughing. Kind of like when we were on our way to AP&M (Applied Physics and Mathematics for the unhip) and three cyclists crashed into one another creating this tangle of meat and metal and everyone gasped, except for Ruby, who started laughing… loudly. Much like Ruby, I knew I shouldn’t be laughing, I should be gasping in horror at the atrocity on my screen. But I just couldn’t help myself.
That. That made me laugh out loud. Okay. And not just because it was Justin Timberlake with a gross mustache, French-Canadian accent, playing hockey, and surrounding himself with roosters. But because he has a wang so big that he has to hoist it out of his chonies! Daaamn.
I did get a kick out of the Bollywood flashback video with Jessica Alba and Mike Myers. It took me back to freshman year when Ritesh made us watch all those Amitabh Bachchan movies (“Numba?” “Nine?” Shoe in face!) Ah… today must be UCSD day.
But that’s it. This movie was like a game of make-me-laugh. When nobody’s laughing. Not even when you pee in the hole. Even Stephen Colbert and that Pale Dude (“It’s Bill’s birthday. Oh, I hate that guy- There’s cake in the conference room. Oh well I should say hello…“) couldn’t save this movie.
Time to get excited about some Harry Potter.