3/21/2024 0 Comments The players club ronnie bitch![]() ![]() Terry tries to sell himself to Ronnie as a star-maker and collaborator with overtures that all sound sexual in nature. I did not remember that there are moments in Run, Ronnie, Run when it goes so hard on gay panic jokes and crude double entendres that it borders on “Flirty Harry” territory.įlirty Harry was of course the screamingly gay, flamboyant Dirty Harry parody Adrien Brody played in Vince Offer’s 2013 bomb Inappropriate Comedy, which was a low point both for Brody as an actor and humanity as a whole. ![]() In my fuzzy imagination, I vaguely recalled Odenkirk’s character being effete in a harmlessly British fashion. The core problem of Run, Ronnie, Run is that it needs us to see its title character simultaneously as a mean-spirited figure of glib ridicule, a stupid redneck clown in a bad mullet wig perpetually up to drunken hillbilly criminal shenanigans and a lovable true romantic with a heart of gold. It’s one of many moments throughout the film when Run, Ronnie, Run seems to be trying to escape itself, to flee the futility of being a major motion picture devoted to a brutally unfunny, one-note hillbilly joke like Ronnie Dobbs. This is followed by another stand-alone bit of mildly inspired nonsense, in this case a gentlemanly figure introducing himself as the “valedictorian of television” and informing us that what we’re about to see is not real so consequently, “Do not act things out from it because you are disturbed or pissed off, you crazy son of a bitch.” ![]() It’s reasonably sly commentary on the arbitrary nature of the way we anthropomorphize some things but not others that’s smarter and quirkier than what’s to follow but it’s worth noting that even this standout sequence is LITERALLY toilet humor involving a LITERAL toilet and various secretions. The opening bit takes the anthropomorphic nature of these happy tubs of popcorn, boxes of candy and cups of ice-cold cola to extremes both comic and scatological when a box of Junior Mints goes relieves itself in a toilet that turns out to also be anthropomorphic, to the point of sitting in between our hero and his date. Run, Ronnie, Run opens with an animated parody of pre-show cartoons where sentient theater food parades about merrily for the amusement of hungry, thirsty patrons. Run, Ronnie, Run did suck! It had so much potential and squandered nearly all of it! Finally, I reached the stage of acceptance, which is essentially a more zen version of depression: Run, Ronnie, Run is not a good movie and that’s okay. Maybe if the studio let them do their own cut the film could be salvaged! Who did I need to bribe to make that happen? Then it was on to depression. Why wouldn’t the stupid studio let Bob and David be funny? Why were they sabotaged and undermined instead of supported? Then came bargaining. Run, Ronnie, Run wasn’t so bad! It has some great stuff! It just didn’t get a chance. At this point point in my long, intense, bittersweet relationship with Run, Ronnie, Run I have gone through the Kübler-Ross model’s five stages of grief. That ended up happening but it had nothing to do with The Onion Movie. I also recently began a series chronicling the films of bad boy auteur Oliver Stone. This generous patron is now paying for me to watch and write about the cult animated show Batman Beyond and I also recently began even more screamingly essential deep dives into the complete filmographies of troubled video vixen Tawny Kitaen and troubled former Noxzema pitch-woman Rebecca Gayheart. I’m deep into a project on the films of the late, great, fervently mourned David Bowie and I have now watched and written about every movie Sam Peckinpah made over the course of his tumultuous, wildly melodramatic psychodrama of a life and career. Or you can be like three kind patrons and use this column to commission a series of pieces about a filmmaker or actor. The price goes down to seventy-five dollars for all subsequent choices. ![]() It’s the career and site-sustaining column that gives YOU, the kindly, Christ-like, unbelievably sexy Nathan Rabin’s Happy Place patron, an opportunity to choose a movie that I must watch, and then write about, in exchange for a one-time, one hundred dollar pledge to the site’s Patreon account. Welcome, friends, to the latest entry in Control Nathan Rabin 4.0. ![]()
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