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Sunday, April 26, 2009


This weekend I went to see Obsessed, the movie starring Beyoncé as a woman who isn’t Obsessed but is the only thing selling this cheap knock-off of Fatal Attraction, which was done way better more than 22 years ago by director Adrian Lyne and starring Michael Douglas and Glenn Close. At least in that movie, Glenn’s hair inspired a national trend. The only thing this will inspire is a suspicion of movies that feature singers whose surname is ‘Knowles.’

I was hoping for more because I love a good obsession. God knows, I’ve been
Obsessed with lots of things in my life:

There’s my list of future ex-husbands (all those delicious men who I am determined to marry and divorce after I’ve exploited their carnal talents and then left mere husks of their former selves, destined to blow gently away like feathery dandelion seeds on the wind), tasty love dumplings like Hugh Jackman, Ewan MacGregor, Ryan Reynolds, Jake Gyllenhaal, and Eric Dane;

Pumbaa. That’s right, Pumbaa, the lovable warthog from The Lion King. I love the “Hakuna Matata” philosophy of this lovable, albeit simple-minded, charmer. Over the years I have collected every conceivable Pumbaa-related tchochke imaginable, from a life-sized plush Pumbaa to a Pumbaa wristwatch. I’ve got Pumbaa snowglobes, Pumbaa lunch boxes, and best of all a coveted
original statue used by Disney artists as their model during the animation process while they made the original film. Now that was an expensive and accidental purchase I’ll tell you about some other time. My obsession with Pumbaa is so ideal that I have created my own Church of Pumbaaism, based on His simple outlook of “No Worries.” I, of course, am its Pope, but I am open to disciples, so please, don’t let being less than Top Warthog scare you away. After all, “Hakuna Matata;”

Pussies. It seems wherever I turn I hear men talking about them, so I know I am not alone in my lov
e of the pussy. Sadly, I never wanted to be the local cat lady, the one kids on the block whisper about and suspect is crazy and one the adults are sure is crazy. I also didn’t plan on living in a house that reeks of pussy pee and has furniture which is coated in a fine sheen of feline fur, but after a lifetime of kitty companions (nine at the moment), I’ve given up trying to vacuum the hair off of everything from the cds on top of my stereo to my perfect husband’s teeth and live with the possibility of coughing up a hairball now and again;

The loathing and eventual mental and spiritual destruction of my evil ex-husband’s immortal soul, not that our parting more than 30 years ago was acrimonious or anything, but I’d like to prove that when I make a commitment to be
Obsessed about something and promise someone to never forgive or forget I will follow through, even if it means straddling the line between crazy Obsessed and bearing a life-long hate-filled grudge. Okay, you may think this is a tad severe, but trust me, he deserves it. I could tell tales that would make you puke, but I won’t because I want to be nice.

God. If we are all made in His likeness, then who in the world is made in the likeness of His a-hole? And is it okay to point that out to the world because I’m pretty sure I know who it is (see above).

You see, these are real obsessions to focus on. Meanwhile, in this pitifully weak excuse for being
Obsessed, Ali Larter (tv’s “Heroes”) plays a whack-job temp named Lisa who settles into a post at some huge anonymous gray blob of a conglomerate where nobody knows what the other person actually is doing but everybody appears to be wealthy as a result of working there. She quickly sets her slutty sights on Derek, (Idris Elba; The Unborn), a non-descript big-time assets management executive who makes oodles of money and is living large in some suburban McMausoleum with his wife Sharon (the aforementioned Beyoncé Knowles; Dreamgirls) and his precious-if-unimportant-to-the-plot son, Kyle (played by straight-from-central-casting twins Nathan and Nicolas Myers, making a very inconspicuous debut). What exactly Lisa sees in the uninspiring Derek is beyond me ($$$), but let’s go with it for the sake of the plot.

So if you have seen the theatrical trailer for the movie you know it focuses almost exclusively on one scene featuring the inevitable smack down between the two women, beginning with Sharon/ Beyoncé walking into her bedroom, locking the door and announcing “I knew it would come down to this, Bitch!” Okay, maybe the trailer left out the “B” word, but this is such a “Well, duh” moment. What is the purpose of sitting through all 105 minutes of Obsessed when the trailer itself basically tells you the whole movie is nothing but foreplay for the uncaged cage fight between Knowles and Larter? And like you have to even guess who’s going to win this Battle of the Nitwit Stars.

The second the camera pans across the set of the dramatic two story loft-style living room at Derek and Sharon’s home with that lingering moment on Beyoncé looking down from the wooden balustrade upstairs to her husband below, who just happens to be standing next to a VERY large glass coffee table you can practically see the arrows pointing from A to B. The only surprise “twist” is in the fact that director Steve Shill (tv’s “Law & Order: Criminal Intent”) doesn’t immediately telegraph the inclusion of another major house accessory that ends up playing an important supporting role, but perhaps that’s because the idea came up as an afterthought or was added later in reshoots to add additional tension to the film. Whatever the reason is unimportant; the fact remains that Shill contributes nothing new to the genre and simply steals bits and pieces from other films ~ even a comedy like The War of the Roses (another Michael Douglas ‘80’s hit).

I could tell you to stay away from
Obsessed but for those of you who are Obsessed with these cheesy “B” movies I know telling you not to waste your time would be a total waste of my time, and, really, it could be worse. Personally, I have to admit that after hearing “Single Ladies” on the radio three or four thousand times in the past couple of months I did get a certain satisfaction out of seeing somebody take a pull on Beyoncé’s weave (even if it most likely was a stuntwoman in a wig). Yeah, Beyoncé, You can put a ring in that.

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