I know, I know. You’re all thinking I’m about to lay into the liberal splashes of claret resulting from Hit Girl’s slashfests as an example of the decay of cinema’s moral fiber. Well, you’re wrong. I don’t need to lay down any Roger Ebert-style preaching to pull the rug from under this colossal waste of time that has inexplicably grossed over $46 million and counting domestically. Kick-Ass, in my view, is the most overrated film of the last decade. Rather than just embark on a mindless, meandering rant, I will attempt to disprove some of the utter, utter drivel spouted in praise of this celluloid cockrot by using the critics’ words against them.
While renewing my New Yorker subscription a couple of months ago, magazine publishing giant Condé Nast offered me a deal that seemed too good to pass up: 12 issues of culture/fashion/politics magazine Vanity Fair for 12 dollars. That’s right — for the price of a taco a month I would have some of the world’s finest photography and writing delivered right to my doorstep. A Vanity Fair article, “The Man Who Knew Too Much”, served as the basis for the amazing Michael Mann film The Insider. So I thought “Why not?”
I hate Fat Kids. I simply do. Fat kids and their parents. Normally, I’m not this vitriolic. In fact, I pride myself on being an even-tempered and well-centered individual with no strong likes or dislikes. But I absolutely despise fat kids and their parents. I used to be one. I was chubby as a child, and obese as a teenager. Even now, after years of dieting and exercise, I still have a gut that troubles me. I look better now, but that doesn’t lessen my ire. I could be a little more specific: I hate spoiled fat kids. I hate spoiled fat kids whose parents indulge their every whim. I hate spoiled fat kids whose parents indulge their every whim and are proud of it. Unfortunately, despite the specific nature of my hatred, I’m in a country that is chock full of them.