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Knocked Up could have been funny, but I was too caught up trying to work out why no one on the protagonist's end has to work for their money, without us ever being told it comes from anywhere else. Sure, the housing in run down and the pool's icky, but it's all big houses with pools in the Valley, right? That's costing, even run down, and they don't do anything. It's like something scripted by someone who's forgotten what it's like to have to pay for things moment to moment. And the men all annoy the piss out of me for being boring, idiot, vindictive losers, while the women are designed like emotionally-needy, super-immature Stepford sexbots whose conversations, when the men are gone, turn to talking about men, sex, how men annoy them, and um, men.
To be fair, I did not watch the whole thing. Couldn't watch the whole thing. So maybe it redeemed itself and Forty-Year-Old Virgin was the best thing since the invention of the orgasm, but, yeah, I somehow doubt it. |
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