Pop Culture Junkie – Episode 2: “Worst. Indie. Film. Ever”
I belong to what I like to call a “Lazy Book Club.” It started as an actual, legitimate, mostly lady-centric Book Club where they talked about the book they’d read but mostly eat fancy foods and drink fancy wine. So the husbands started crashing the Book Club. Then nobody was actually getting around to reading the books but would show up to eat and drink (now including fancy beers) and talk about things they’d heard on NPR. It was glorious.
Then we dropped the book requirement altogether and started talking about movies instead. Most now call it “Movie Club,” but I like to hold onto the smidgeon of intellectual cachet that comes with being a member of a “Book Club.”
There’s occasional “what was just up for an Oscar” laziness, but most chosen films are high-quality.
And then there was Finder’s Fee.
If you look up Jeff Probst on IMDb.com, you’ll see dozens and dozens of entries pertaining to his role as host of “Survivor.” But you’re probably unaware that he subjected the DVD-renting/Encore-TiVo’ing citizens of the world to a godawful slice of urban morality tale in 2001.
I’ve mostly tried to block Finder’s Fee out of my head, but from what I remember, it had something to do with a lottery ticket and a bunch of horribly obnoxious twenty-something creeps in a New York apartment on a rainy night. I think they kill a guy. I don’t remember. It wasn’t a hooker, at least.
The douchebags were played guy Erik Palladino (AKA “oh yeah, that ambulance guy from ER”), Dash Mihok (AKA “that tall, bug-eyed redhead who was in a couple episodes of ‘Felicity’”), Matthew Lillard (AKA “staple of the sad parade of former C-listers at future comic book conventions”) and Ryan Reynolds (AKA “what the fuck is Ryan Reynolds doing in this?”).
Rounding out the cast of Shoulda Known Betters is James Earl Jones, playing the sage, benevolent Old Black Man™, and Robert Forster, who still manages to class up the joint with his signature brand of salt ‘n’ pepper cool.
They say the recent Chilean earthquake somehow shortened the lifespan of the Earth – sitting through 100 minutes of Finder’s Fee will make you pray that the Mayans were right so that you may experience the sweet, cold embrace of 2012.
The thing is, the host of this particular Lazy Book Club is the super-nicest guy in the world, and he always has awesome food and beer, so I didn’t want to eviscerate his pick, just in case it was his favorite movie of all time. After about 4 or 5 Newcastle Brown Ales, all bets were off and I exploded with impotent rage.
After I was finished, I apologized for potentially offending our great host’s choice of film. He replied, “That’s alright. I just look through the Oklahoman’s TV Listings for movies that get 3 stars or more and Finder’s Fee got 3 stars.”
…
The moral of this story? The film critics for the Oklahoman’s TV Listings don’t know what the fuck they’re talking about.