the lovely bones

dear project leader:

the husband and i went to see peter jackson's interpretation of the lovely bones today. without a doubt, this is the worst movie ever made.

first, let's discuss the good aspects of this movie.

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okay, that's that. now the rest of it: mark wahlberg still sounds like your whiney little brother hyperventilating on helium, so buying into him as a 14 year old's dad just doesn't happen.

and susan sarandon as the saucy (literally) grandma is just an embarrassment. at one point, she has to take over mom duties of the bereaved family because mom ran off to california to pick apples in an orchard (of course, how else does one deal with grief). mind you, grandma's had kids of her own (hence, "grandma"), yet somehow, she has no idea how to run a 1970's washing machine.

and when your bad guy is made up in a bad wig and blue contact lenses, well, that's just distracting.

good fucking grief.

you know those sidewalk spray-can paintings of planets and galaxies that you can buy in vegas, or resort towns in mexico? that's what the dead girl's "heaven" images looked like. and still, the director, peter jackson, had the audacity to hitchcock himself into the movie (camera shop patron), when he well should have alan smithee'd himself out of it.

good fucking grief.