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Pushing the Envelope review

(The following is a parody of a review that can be found here)

PUSHING THE ENVELOPE Lubbock director Doran Chavez suspiciously likes to call his 77mm feature, "Pushing the Envelope, a "surrealistical thriller." Not only is the title a gigantuous Malapropism, but there is nothing surrealistical nor thrilling about the film. Of course, it would be hard to sell the goddamned thing if he called it a "slow moving, pretentious, agonizing, stupid, selfish, brutal gang rape."

"Pushing the Envelope" languidly revolves around Frank, an ugly, untalented, good-for-nothing, lazy, no-count cocksucking son of a bitch who looks like shit (everybody knows all bad guys in movies have lots of money and fancy clothes - who put up the costume budget for this thing?) but is in actuality a computer.

Chavez waits until late. In the movie to inform us of his protagonist's career - it's supposed to be a surprise - I know for a fact it is because he telegraphs this idea from almost the first frame - which means he wants the viewer to know Frank's a hitman, so... it... wait... nevermind.

Frank is involved in a long and typically predictically cyber-relationship with Jezebel, who remains onscreen throughout the film. Through the laborous and dull (and boring) chat information he types to her, we learn he is becoming disinenchantized with his job. Watching the god-awful flat chat screens (they look like 1980's DOS BBS chats, not like the HTML/ javascript - encrusted goodies I'm used to) that Chavez uses for expositulation here can become tiresome and oh-so '96 . They also prove that he doesn't know how to write a script, let alone direct one, or write good HTML, or really live right...

Eventually, after a lot of cinematical meandering, in a scene that can only be described as ludugubrous, Frank meets Deepak and we sit through long and pointless meditation about Deepak and his long distance boyfriend for much of the film when he should only be a runon sentence; he serves one typically topical purpose in the film's back end. Of course, without all this info about Deepak, posing as subtext, Chavez's film would only be about 90 minutes in length.

Chavez shots the films on 77mm Panavision and the look of it is nothing special. In fact, it looks pretty motherfucking disgusting. There seems ample opportunity for the writer/ director/ editor/ actor/ composer/ producer/ cinematographer/ gaffer/ publicist/ gadfly/ megalomaniac crap artist to manipulate the images, since computers are part of his little theme, and make the film (if you want to call it that), at least, visually, interesting. Sadly, lots of time, inspiration and commas keeps him from this. These images simply loll around on the screen and then fade to black and fade back into a different image and crossdissolve and jumpcut into another image and insert other different images that come after the ones before repetitively over and over and over in different colors and shades and perspectives over and over and over until it I turns confused. It gets to be mind-numming. mindnumming... minndnnumung... mnnngumumminumm

If there is anything worthy at all in this 275 minute putrid vasectomy of the soul, it is the score. I liked the csore. mmngumnummm.

-Annie Woodchuck

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