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   The funniest, nastiest movie reviews anywhere.

It's a Wonderful Life

Welcome to a very special, classic holiday movie edition of Cinemavenger.  Because you can't spell "classic" without "ass," and this holiday turkey is as asstacular as they come. 

It's beginning to look a lot like Shitmas.

In terms of mysteries for the ages, right up there with why we celebrate a fat, bearded perv ("He sees you when you're sleeping.  He knows when you're awake."  That's Forest Whitaker's left eye creepy.) breaking into our homes each year is why It's a Wonderful Life is one of the most popular holiday films of all time.  My guess is some sort of Illuminati-orchestrated mind control experiment, but then again my tinfoil hat is at the cleaners.

If you think about it, It's a Wonderful Life barely qualifies as a Christmas movie at all. Other than a couple of scenes - mostly at the very end - that include a Christmas tree or a church bell ringing, this "Crappy Holidays" drivel could just as easily have been set around Arbor Day.  And as for the rest of it, it features child abuse, sexism and racism in such Big Rock Candy Mountain-sized portions that it buggers the mind to think that people count the days every year until they can cuddle up with this "wholesome" entertainment that's really about as family friendly as an episode of the new hit HBO series, "Shemale Junkie Pornstars."

You all know the story.  George Bailey (Jimmy "Uh, ah, um" Stewart)  is saved from suicide on Xmas Eve by the wingless, idiot angel, Clarence (Henry "You've Never Seen Me In Anything Else" Travers), when Clarence shows him how awful life would be if George had never been born.

While it would have been hi-fucking-larious if the world turned out to be a much better place without Mr. Bailey ("Whoa.  Turns out your son becomes the next Hitler."), you know that's not gonna happen in this schmaltz-apalooza.  Still, Bailey spends virtually the entire movie hating on his hometown of Bedford Falls (his favorite song is "(Anywhere But) Home for the Holidays"), griping about his missed opportunities ("Oh, poor me!  I didn't get to travel around Europe for a summer after high school!") and being kind of a dick to his beautiful wife, Mary (Donna "Need For" Reed), that you wish the movie would've gone all Krampus on his stammering, whiny ass instead.

It sure as taxes would've been funnier, and it wouldn't have dragged on longer than RuPaul like the original's 130 minutes do.  I guess they didn't invent the idea of pacing in movies until at least 1947.

Hey, Frank Capra.  Go fuck yourself.  How you went from making love-your-stars-and-bars Why We Fight propaganda films to this tinsel-trimmed Communist Manifesto in just a couple of years is damn near inconceivable.  Although, come to think of it, it does explain why Santa wears red.  That Commie bastard.

It's a Wonderful Life can suck my jingle balls.

December 7, 2014