From Justin to KellyReviewed By Collin Souter
Posted 06/23/03 23:10:15
To paraphrase Miss Kelly Clarkson: “If you’re dumb enough to watch my show and vote for me, you’re dumb enough for my movie. Enjoy!” Truer words could not have been spoken, even if they didn’t come out that way. But according to Miss Clarkson, that’s what she thinks of her fans and by the looks of the numbers on its opening weekend, they don’t think that much of her either. You see? Every once in a while, the public says ‘no.’ Every once in a while, parents will have that talk with their children about the bad movies they remember seeing when they were that age. Every once in a while, the American public will look at their American Idols and say, “You know what, skank? I’m done with you.”I myself have never watched one episode of “American Idol,” an accomplishment for which I expect to receive a trophy. I have to put up with enough God-awful music in my daily life from the likes of Train, Matchbox 20 and Alannis Morisette, mini-van rock for 40+ soccer moms. Why do I need to hear more bad music during my prime time hours when I should be watching “Gilmore Girls,” “24” or “Six Feet Under”? Why should I watch horrible lizard people win awards for shouting out anthems that would make MeatLoaf wince?
Furthermore, why should anybody bother with a movie starring these detestable sideshow ghouls? Oh, sure, I say that now, but what about the potential for a homo-erotic sequel starring the winner/loser of last season? I’m thinking “The Living End” meets “How to Stuff A Wild Bikini.” If anybody wants to steal that idea, go right ahead.
“From Justin To Kelly,” we have been told, is for the fans. Considering this movie was written last Friday, shot this past Monday, edited the following Wednesday and dropped from a cargo plane (sans parachute) into our nations multiplexes the following Thursday evening, they have a lot to be thankful for. They wanted their movie and they got it quick. (Editor’s note: The guilt-ridden pilot of said cargo plane flew into the Rocky Mountains in a Fox-sponsored suicide pact. Several Fox executives have been missing ever since).
The “plot” involves three giddy suthern gals high on sassafras, twang and horribly-coached suthern ayc-cents going to the beach (and, yes, one of them is Miss Clarkson). Coincidentally, three IQ-deficient lunkheads (one of them Justin) have also decided to spend their spring break at the beach. The two packs of friends meet, sing, dance and sing sexually provocative songs such as “Pull It Out,” “Get Down On Me” and “Jam That 12-inch Flesh Spike Into My-Oh-My-Oh-Baby-Please-You-Make-My-Love- Grow-Baby-Please-Enough-Put-Down-That-Ether-Rag- I-Love-You-Why-The-Gimp-Mask-Oh-You-Make-Me-Fee-eee-eeel…”
Justin meets Kelly. Justin loses Kelly. Dialogue coach checks into hospital with self-inflicted head wound. Kelly loses southern accent. Justin gets Kelly again. Choreographer willfully throws himself into the mouth of a blood-thirsty alligator. Justin and Kelly sing on a boat without moving. Justin and Kelly’s collective friends also try to score with hot guys/gals. They lose them. They sing and dance. Movie wraps in 81 minutes, but feels slightly longer than Bertolucci’s “1900.”
Boom, done. Among the cretins we have to put up with: On the Miss Clarkson side, we have Token, the black chick and Blondee, the token. On Justin’s side, we have a muscular whitebread yo-yo-yo-in-da-house playuh who likes to make money only to lose it to a cop for a fine (Wa-wa-wa-waaaaaa!). We also have their nerdy, net-surfing wormy guy who tries to hook up with a cyber chick. While we have plenty of hotties running around the joint, the filmmakers thought you’d rather see this guy grease up his half-naked body before baking like charcoal in the hot sun. A grave miscalculation. So, yeah, think “Crossroads” meets “Fraternity Vacation.”
And what about that title? “From Justin To Kelly.” From Justin to Kelly what!?! What did Justin actually give to Kelly besides a perfectly sound reason to off herself? And who are these people? Kelly may be kinda cute, but she looks too pouty and pissed off most of the time. And Justin Guarini? What? Who? The dude who lost? Aside from having less charisma than the average Barbarian Brother, Mr. Guarini with his wild near-fro looks like a cross between the dreaded Carrot Top and the Johnny Cab from “Total Recall,” with his oily complexion, which I’m guessing is the result of an unspeakable, irreversible accident involving spermicidal jelly and a White Castle hamburger. With his girlish demeanor, he may want to also ask Trudy, the Testicle Fairy for a new pair of nuts. Perhaps he gave them to Kelly?
“From Justin To Kelly” represents the worst kind of bad movie. I came into it ready for a good, solid heckle. I had a buddy with me (whom I’m sure would prefer to remain nameless) who had the same spirit I did. Yet, about 45 minutes into it, we lost interest. The movie maintains a repetitive level of badness that makes it hard to come up with a new joke. Too often, the scenes recycle themselves. “Jesus, we just made fun of a scene just like this. There’s nowhere else to go.” At least with “Extreme Ops” or “Wrong Turn,” things happened. A movie like this can really last a lifetime. The best thing I can say about this flick: At least the songs had no catch to them so as not to haunt me for the rest of the day. Or, is that a bad thing? I don’t even know anymore.I imagined parents having a looooooong talk to their children about “From Justin To Kelly” prior to its opening. I imagined parents saying stuff like, “I don’t wanna see my baby get hurt,” “You’ll bring shame and disgrace to our family for generations to come,” and “Honey, did I ever tell you about a film called ‘The Pirate Movie’?” Sure, kids don’t like to listen to their parents, but parents need to keep this in mind: The PG-rated “From Justin To Kelly” wasn’t made for rebels. It was made to get your children INTO rebellion. This movie could drive your kids to drink heavily after breakfast, smoke countless filter-less cigarettes before dinner, drop out of junior college, impregnate and abort on a bi-monthly basis. Good job, Kelly. Way to destroy our nation’s youth (even further) with your vaguely wholesome, pseudo-inspirational vocal crapulence. Now, get the hell outta here! We’re done with you.
|© Copyright HBS Entertainment, Inc.|