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Tuesday, September 18, 2007

Everyone Must Have One Helluva Mortgage Payment

Okay this is probably the last one of these bootleg reviews you're gonna get for a while...I am headed back to civilization on Saturday after a month in the country, and it'll be mainstream talk for sometime, cause I can't take another one of these j-list movies. They are hard to write about, because I'm so overwhelmed with so many thoughts it's hard to condense into a short post, and I also can't understand why people take valuable time and effort to make films like these.


There is only one movie theatre within 40 miles, and they have been showing the same 3 month old movies since I arrived. The only alternative is the only Blockbuster within those same 40 miles. It's weird, they have an extensive black movie section (all seem to be straight to DVD) and even tho I haven't heard of most of them, a surprising amount have major Black Hollywood stars in them.

This movie is one third star, one third bootleg, and one third milk carton alert. It's called "Confessions Of A Call Girl" and features Tamala Jones, Lynn Whitfield, and the subject of what was going to be my next milk carton alert, Bokeem Woodbine (who Thembi says is now in a rock band--?!).

The problem starts with casting Bokeem as a high powered corporate attorney. Wah? I've known more than a few attorneys in my time, and none of them had a rough, thick, guttural Bronx type accent. Not to say that it couldn't happen, but I'm just sayin'....he's about as attorney as my yorkie terrier. Anyway, Tamala Jones plays his wife. She is a well respected doctor that has her own extensive clinic during the day, and is a high-priced call girl at night. Guess being a doctor with a heavy caseload clinic doesn't keep you busy enough. Realistic so far....

Lynne Whitfield plays her therapist, and Tamala "confesses" her sins and tries to work them through. Their encounters border on scary hilarity and soft porn, as one of the therapist's "methods" is supposedly "rolfing"-- which in this film involves a lot of massage in the breast and lower regions in bra and panties. It's funny, being a Cali girl, the rolfing I know just involves a lot of hippie-type laying of hands, incense, and wheatgrass juice; as harmless as going to the health food store.

So over the course of the movie we are treated to one ludicrous story after another about the doctor's so called sexual "adventures", that came out of screenwriting 101 (at the cost of a laughable $10,000 per tryst). One likes her to ride him like a horse, (complete with saddle), one likes to wear women's clothes under his suit, and then there is the priest.

Lo and behold, there is the subject of another one of my upcoming milk carton alerts, Roger Guenveur Smith. I always thought this dude was completely weird and creepy in every way, and I am happy to report that everything is still there, with the added bonus of a severely receded hairline; the long creepy "Under The Cherry Moon" Prince looks, the affected, fake hesitations and drawls when he speaks, the feeling that he is only aware of himself in the movie, and not even one cast or crew member. Their scene together is one of the oddest I've seen for a while.

In all of these scenes there is plenty of dirty talk, which I'm all for, but it is strangely unsexy, stepping over a thin line into just embarrassing. I found my mind wandering a lot (which is not supposed to happen when there is sex in front of you).....where did she get all those fly clutch bags from? Why doesn't Bokeem get his teeth fixed? Where did all of these horrible wigs come from? Was the hairstylist a relation? Is there any movie Clifton Powell won't do? Why are the two doctors wearing frosty pink lipstick? And so on...

The funny thing is, the doctor/callgirl doesn't do anything most women would probably do for free. To wrap it up, there's one dude that is obsessed with the doctor, and chews up the scenery like Godzilla on steroids. Amazingly, it is the dude that plays the boxer Cutty on "The Wire". Hope he's holding on tightly to those residual checks and investing wisely, cause if this movie is indicative of his acting skills, he's toast. He goes to the doctor's house, wreaks havoc on her and her whole family's lives, and then it abruptly stops with an ending so absurd I was left with my mouth hanging open. It seems like they had seven different endings, stuck them up with post-its on the wall, and played "pin the tail on the ending".

This one is meant for insomniac Cinemax/Showtime After Dark viewing only.


10 comments:

Amias said...

As much as I like reading your reviews, IV, I found this one hard to complete. Thanks for the heads up ... darn sure won't be renting this one!

justjudith said...

hilarious wrap up! lol. i just don't know how you watch all of this stuff...

Melody said...

OMG...this was the worst movie!! My goodness, I could have made this movie in alley with some crackheads... I too will not be reviewing these bootleg movies...I have nothing good to say!

janice said...

The Prince look, omg I can't believe people remember that. I will admit I went to see Cherry Moon a few times. Prince had me all sewed up. For those of you who don't know the power of prince's stare behold. Look before Prince's lawyers find it.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=xyI8y9m_7tA

Any ways this movie sounds like a take off or the "black" version of belle de jour. This one sounds like they left out the horse dung fantasy.

Thembi said...

IW! I am so tired/inspired by the fact that my obscure c-listers and your milk carton alerts stay being the same losers. Guess whose post for this Friday I've already writted - that's right, the aforementioned perennial quadroon Roger Guenever Smith. You're too much, IW...
On another note, the Bokeem/Tamala pairing sounds more apropos for a new UPN dramedy about a married construction worker and a pregnant nurse who find a suitcase filled with money and drugs, take it to their church for guidance on what to do, and eventually find out that their minister (played by Bill Cobbs, perhaps) is behind all of the drug wars in their South Bronx community. Or something like that.
And I didn't even take Screenwriting 101...

Invisible Woman said...

Sorry Amias :-)@jj: it'll be the last one for a while, that's for sure @melody: I agree. I can't believe Tamala and Lynn played themselves that way, unless, like I said, they have huge mortgage payments. Bokeem and Clifton I can understand...

@janice: yeah, you know EXACTLY what I mean, haha. I saw it a couple times myself...great cinematography, tho. I have to look for Belle De Jour; heard of it, but never saw it.@thembi-I thought that was a real show for a second! I know how you feel...when you did Bokeem I was like...damn!!

belledame222 said...

*groan* that sounds like -classic- Blockbuster material.

you know, there does seem to be some sort of inverse relationship: they won't rent NC-17 or hardcore porn (morality, yanno), bowdlerize a number of perfectly good movies to boot; but then they have all these B, C, Z level softcore pseudo-noir/sploitation flicks. a depressing percentage of them seem to involve the stripper/callgirl getting murdered. there's always some sort of breathy "sin" or "demimonde" thing going on, too...

it's like, okay, we got rid of the money shot and most of the actual y'know sex, but we still want cheap thrills in the back of our car, so we'll make up for it with craptastic plots and of course lots of killin', cause THAT'S okay...

Invisible Woman said...

well said belledame-good points...

hottnikz said...

I liked Roger Guenveur Smith in that one man play about Huey Newton. He played the smoked out version of Huey and he was sooooo good. For a minute I thought it really was Huey Newton on stage cracked out of his mind. I guess that's because he has those creepy ways about him naturally.

Invisible Woman said...

Creepy + natural= Roger G. Smith