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FiyaStarter RATING =  (4½) FiyaballsMovie
Review
I Think I Love My Wife Rock About to Bomb At The Box Office Again. by: Reggie Eggert, for Entertainment
I’ve heard that from black folks for years, but I always dismissed it as stupid and narrow-minded. I thought it was just as offensive to blacks at it was to whites (or any other non-black reviewer), because I felt that, on some level, it implied that the black experience cannot be appreciated on a human level. Are we so unlike any other race that realistic portrayals of the way we speak and behave around one another is an automatic basis for criticism by film critics? Ya know what? Yup. It is. Man, these cracker ass critics are killing Chris Rock’s movie. LMAO…damn, they white. They try so hard to be hip, wearing out black comedians’ catch phrases and shit, and then they hate on a nigga when he tries to make an insightful, refined comedy. So, for this review, I’ma give you some excerpts from white critics who reviewed I Think I Love My Wife…and I’ma curse they asses out. Here we go: “Though Richard flirts with infidelity, the only thing truly promiscuous about "I Think I Love My Wife" is its tone, which rockets between bland domestic comedy, tentative social satire (the isolation of a black guy in a white, white-collar world) and mean-spirited dialogue that conceals a hotbed of racial and sexual conflict (Richard reserves his leering for the black women on his commuter train and his hostilities for the white women).” That is from the cracker ass mind of Newsday’s Jan Stuart, who purposely lies in his parenthetical observation. Chris Rock was leering at black, white and Asian women on that train and off that train. And Rock’s Richard saved most of his disdain for Kerry Washington’s Nikki, but telling you that wouldn’t serve his agenda. Jan Stuart is jackass and he shouldn’t be reviewing black films. But as few artists might have done, Rock — director as well as co-writer and uneasy hero of his own movie — has taken Rohmer's marvelously probing, psychologically refined, exquisitely yakky, and deeply French movie and turned it into a coarse-talking, race-conscious, tonally challenged life-crisis comedy. Lisa Schwarzbaum of Entertainment Weekly needs to shut her fuckin’ mouth. The overwhelming majority of black people going to see this movie don’t give a shit about Rohmer, ho. They just wanna laugh and go home. Chris Rock’s coarse-talking and race-consciousness is funny to niggas. Deal. It's not a bad idea, modernizing Rohmer's classic into an edgy romantic comedy. But Rock is so fixed on crude jokes, he neglects to create realistic characters and a story that's compelling to follow. There are amusing lines here and there, but mainly the film offers lame jabs at white rappers and Michael Jackson, along with Viagra sight gags and slapstick fisticuffs. GODDAMN! Lisa Rose of The New Jersey Star-Ledger, you need a foot in your ass. There were no white rappers in the movie. There was a white bike messenger singing along to a rap song on a fucking elevator. Unless this dumb ho was tryna give multiple blow jobs and watch this film at the same time, there is no reason to be so wrong about what was in this movie. Why are white people so sensitive when they are the butt of jokes in black movies? What if niggas started whining every time we heard “nigga” in a Martin Scorcese flick? It’s sickening. White critics should just stop reviewing black movies, because they can’t suspend their racist beliefs long enough (or at all) to enjoy a world where niggas don’t need white folks help to overcome, or niggas ain’t driving white folks around, or niggas ain’t serving white, or smiling all the damn time. Goddamn! |
FIYA NBA Ranks: #9 |
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"White critics should not review black movies.”