You know in season one of Californication, (the only season they should have made) when Hank Moody has had his guts ripped out because his beloved book has been turned into an abhorrent abortion of a movie? I wonder if Ernest Cline feels that way about the Ready Player One movie? Only he can’t say anything because he’s contractually obligated to just take it up the rectum. (there’s no time for lubricant*)
*I’m channeling a lot of David Duchovny here.
In Californication, in an act of revenge, Hank has sex with the director’s wife. I don’t think that’s going to work out for Ernest Cline though… especially when the director that murdered your book is Steven Spielberg.
To be completely fair I’ve hated pretty much every movie ever made since 2003, so really, that I despise this iteration of a book I love should be of no surprise to me.
Only I really love this book! And perhaps more specifically I REALLY love the Audiobook read by Wil Wheaton. (Reviewed here) They’re both great, so it upsets me when you get a thick slice of Kobe beef and can’t think of anything better to do with it other than turn it into mince meat.
Steven Spielberg’s Ready Player One improves immensely on the book. – The Verge.
‘With all due respect… What the fuck… are you talking about?’ – John Malkovich, Burn after reading.
Seriously. Have I slipped into an alternate dimension or something? Did they watch the same movie as me? I know to criticize the almighty Steven Spielberg is to question the divine… but he butchered this one. And then dragged it off into a cornfield and left it to die.
Okay. Calm down Joey, pour yourself a drink. Preferably a double. There must have been something in this movie that you liked?
I liked Art3mis. Well I liked her avatar. In a leery (impossible proportions) Jessica Rabbit kinda way.
And I liked…
…yeah that’s all I got.
I guess what’s upsetting me the most is that this movie is making me violate my don’t be mean about other people’s stuff policy. I mean so much so that I have to come home and write an angry blog post about it. Not even The Last Jedi got me this worked up. And that was a pretty foamy apoplexy…
Maybe all this highlights is that I’ve become a crotchety old man. Which isn’t really all that bad. For as long as I can remember (well since 2003) all I’ve ever really aspired to was to end up like Robert Duvall’s character in Second Hand Lions.
Maybe I’m just well on my way…