Indy (Doesn't) Suggest: April Fools Edition
Amy Schumer: Growing
Have you ever wondered what new, borrowed material serial-joke-stealer Amy Schumer has seen and decided to pass off as her own lately? Even if you answered no, Netflix still has you covered with a new comedy special now available on the streaming service. Why promote the bold, independent films that you exclusively release when you can plaster Schumer’s new special all across your home screen?! Accounting for the “similarities” in her comedy with other comedians’ bits and sets as mere “parallel thinking,” it’s amazing that she doesn’t at least improve upon the blatantly stolen material. Even more striking than the shear identicality of her jokes to other comedians’ is how flat her delivery is. In the myriad of YouTube compilations that exist comparing her material with others, just how much better the other comedians tell their jokes is noticeable.
Christian Mingle The Movie
If you like Hallmark-type movies, dating apps, cookies, and “kooky” paths to finding love in our Lord and Savior, Jesus Christ, then Christian Mingle The Movie is for you! In a tragically cringey story–perhaps advertisement for Christian Mingle?–Christian Mingle combines Gretchen Weiner from Mean Girls (Gwyneth), and some conventionally attractive guy who looks like a human version of Spongebob from the “Normal” episode (Paul). The movie provides potentially hundreds of metaphors for finding Jesus, and many anecdotes of how the characters found Jesus–perhaps my favorite being Paul’s father, a drifter who’s last name is Wood, finding religion after carving Jesus into a piece of driftwood (Paul is shocked when Gwyneth points out this irony and remarks upon her incredible wit). The tension of the film? Gwyneth is not actually Christian. She joins Christian Mingle believing that the only good guys in the world worthy of marriage would be Christian. Who was her catch? A nice, white Christian man who happens to really likes chili cheese dogs. So as not to spoil the film (or admit that this is as much as I actually could tolerate watching) all I will say is that the pair goes on a series of cringey dates (have I said “cringey” too much?) and eats a lot of cookies before Paul brings her to his Bible study group, where she misquotes the Bible and meets all of his friends, who call each other pet names such as “Pauly” and “Kel-Kel.” The denouement (according to Wikipedia–caution! spoilers!) occurs in Mexico on a mission trip, I think in front of children. Speaking of children, Common Sense Media rates Christian Mingle The Movie appropriate for kids ages 10+, recommending that parents chat with their kids after the movie about whether “non-religious families [can] enjoy faith-based movies? Why or why not?” Watch Christian Mingle The Movie, now on Netflix, to answer these questions yourself with your family!
(Special thanks to Tommy Batterman for suggesting this movie for review and hence subjecting me to this film. Idk what I ever did to you.)
Beto O'Rourke's Poetry
Look. I know it’s April Fools, and I know this is supposed to be a kind of negative suggestion—a warning, if you will. However, since the first time I laid eyes on Beto’s beautiful work of bountifully bovine poetry, I simply cannot not recommend it. No, I had never wondered about the sacred Cow (with a capital C, thank you very much) before my initial reading, but one cannot help but be struck by the divine imagery conjured up in Beto’s writing. It is simply the duty of anyone who calls themselves a poetry scholar to enjoy the fruits of Beto’s labor and harken to the Pungent Odor of the Provider of Cheese and other wonderful dairy products that Beto so masterfully describes. Every line is a triumph, brought from farm to table with a style the likes of which the world has never seen. T.S. Eliot, John Keats, E.E. Cummings, and even Shakespeare himself must have thirsted for the undrinkable, the everlusting joy, the good fortune, nay, the life in eternity that comes to those who produce such elegant work, but only Beto can claim the prize of producing the quintessential work. Only Beto understood what it takes. Reader, I see it as my sacrosanct duty to implore you to hold the Heat, praise the dough boy at the pizza shop, and love the Oxen dung; only the sacred Cow can provide the Milk for which Beto knows we all thirst, and let it be known that the Cow has risen thanks to Beto’s poetic prowess.
Holmes & Watson
Holmes & Watson: Never before has a film been so destined for the $5 bin at Walmart. One does not simply cast the man-child raised by elves, and Wreck-It Ralph, as the world's finest sleuths, and expect salvageable—or even comedic—results.
Imagine living in New Jersey. Ew.
Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them: The Crimes of Grindelwald
Breaking news: amongst many other shocking revelations in the past few weeks, J.K. Rowling has just asserted that the Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them franchise is, indeed, based on “Wicked,” but with all of its characters secretly gay offscreen and filmed in a more brooding color palette.
With perhaps the messiest plotline in the history of the Harry Potter universe (rivaling even the Thorne/Tiffany fanfiction that is Harry Potter and the Cursed Child), Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them: The Crimes of Grindelwald has officially left fans in an eternal state of disappointed-but-not-surprised. Apart from some rather stunning performances from Eddie Redmayne (a gem) and Jude Law (even though he doesn’t dress at all like the past two Dumbledores), The Crimes of Grindelwald feels disjointed and unnecessary in every capacity. Characters that viewers came to love in the first film, like Queenie Goldstein, have their developments practically demolished by the end of the sequel; characters that nobody knows, like Nagini, are dropped into the plot for dramatic and nostalgic effect while lacking substantial purpose; characters with whom people can actually relate and sympathize, like Leta Lestrange, are tossed to the side in a series of anticlimactic narrative arcs. Also, let’s talk about the fact that Rowling just won’t stop revising the canon (spoiler alert: Minerva McGonagall makes an “exciting” appearance at Hogwarts, even though at the time that the story is set, she hasn’t been born yet. There’s also a “““plot twist””” that the filmmakers should really think about reversing in the next film if they are at all concerned with maintaining, you know, a consistent timeline of events). Overall, so many things that happened in this movie just didn’t need to happen, while things that should have happened (i.e. proper minority representation) did not; but don’t worry! J.K. Rowling wants you to know that this is a five-part series and things will totally make sense if you keep watching!
And so that we’re on the same page, I love Harry Potter and definitely saw this movie three times in theaters. But still, in the wise words of my roommate, I would describe my overall viewing experience as “mediocre, like a lukewarm glass of water.”
The H*ya is one of the best things Georgetown has to offer. I have never put a copy of that paper to waste. I would highly recommend The H*ya to anyone trying to start a fire. From personal experience, the pages make great kindling. Just take the pages apart and place them one by one into the fire. As for a fire-starter, just use your lighter (I know you have one) on the bottom corner while holding it in the air, then throw it in the fire pit when the flames take hold. The H*ya is also a great substitute for paper towels. If you’re planning on living in an apartment or townhouse next year and want to save a buck, just grab a stack of The H*ya. They set them out all over the place on campus, free for the taking. Then, next time you spill your Natty Lite or don’t know where to spit some phlegm you coughed up, The H*ya will be right there, waiting. A friend recently told me The H*ya can also work as kitty litter if you tear it up into shreds. The paper is thin enough to be soft to the cat’s feet and absorbent enough to handle more waste than is already in it. As you can see, The H*ya is wonderful. Just be sure you don’t try to read it.
Go see Tim Burton’s Dumbo so that our mouse overlords at Disney know that the collective moviegoing public supports them endlessly remaking their entire catalogue of movies over and over again. The less hard writers have to work, the more money Bob Iger can Scrooge-McDuck-style dive into after a long, hard day of counting ticket sales.
Happy April Fool's Day!