What Happens in Vegas

If Cameron Diaz is playing a stock broker, it's pretty safe to assume you're not about to watch a masterpiece. However, outrageous character careers aside, I was not prepared for just how bad this was going to be.

I have to ask: was Cameron Diaz always this weird-looking? I thought she was good-looking, but in this movie she looks like she was crafted from cheap leather stretched over the skeleton of a bird of prey and covered with latex paint.

So anyway, Cameron Diaz is left by her boyfriend or fiance or what fucking ever, and Ashton Kutcher clearly has a gambling problem so they both go to Vegas to (presumably) meet each other in some extremely unlikely circumstance. Or "Blow off some steam" as the excuse may be.

Ashton Kutcher's gambling addiction is used as a comedic device because addictions are, generally speaking, the best way to open a comedy. Haha! This guy has a crippling addiction! It's ruining his life! HILARIOUS! I mean, if you weren't rolling on the floor laughing while watching Requiem for a Dream, you just have no sense of humour.

So this perfect and obviously meant-for-each-other couple meet as a result of the male one stumbling into the female one's hotel room unintentionally. You know, because that's possible. Hotel room doors close automatically and need to be opened by a card key. Unless it's 1973 - which the number of cellular telephones in this film seems to indicate is not the case - I don't think they can just saunter into a hotel room at random.

Once this happens, our lovely antagonists (I meant to write protagonists, but I feel this is a far more appropriate title) complain to hotel staff. For some mysterious, inexplicable and probably impossible reason, they give them an all-expenses-paid, crazy, VIP bender around Vegas.

This bender includes Ashton Kutcher and Cameron Diaz finding a 'real' connection, and, in true romcom fashion, falling for each other (personified by them having sex, of course).

And then they get married.

And then he wins the jackpot from a slot machine and since they're married, she technically gets half.
They go to court to decide the official owner of the $3 million and the judge sentences them to 6 months of living together and being married before they're allowed to claim any of it. Yup. Actually. Who wrote this? What studio approved this idea? A court order demanding they be married? Are you fucking kidding me? I've heard better ideas for joke sitcoms on real sitcoms.

So despite hating each other and feuding over the rightful ownership of $3 million, they are forced to live together by court order. Naturally, this leads to a number of "hilarious" moments where they attempt to out-do one another. In one incident, the toilet seat and then the bathroom door are removed. In another, one drugs the other's smoothie. This is definitely the sort of innovative comedy writing that people will be talking about for generations. It's films like these that one day our children will show to their children and say "This, my beloved offspring, is comedy in its truest form."

Let's hope to God someone shits their pants.

Although I do not condone shitty writing, I do condone Ashton Kutcher playing Wii Tennis without a shirt on. I apologize for that, straight males and gay females. But it deserved being mentioned as it has definitely been the best part of this movie by a pretty substantial margin. Fortunately, this is eventually saved by some pretty choice lines by Zach Galifanakis.

The amount of alleged legal mumbo jumbo involved in this film makes me want to puke into my shoes and wear them for a couple days. "In the case of ___ vs. ___, it was stated that..." No. In no other case did a judge decree that a couple remain fake married because they were a shitty couple and it was desecrating the institution of marriage. And if there has, that judge should be fired on the spot and/or get hit by a bus.

I swear to God, if they end up together at the end of this crap factory, I am going to walk to Hollywood and burn the motherfucker down. And by that I mean obviously that is going to happen.

Hollywood has gotten to a point where they realize that if they put some famous people in a movie that don't like each other at the beginning but like each other at the end, people will pay $12.95 to see it every fucking time. Why? Because they will. And you know who's fault that is? Not theirs. If I could get paid a million dollars to write a shit movie, I'd fucking do it. But would I pay money to see this crap? Fuck. No.

Eventually, they're pulling everything possible to get out of this situation. They have an epic race to the marriage councilor's office (including, but not limited to: Cameron Diaz exposing her breasts to pay for a cab ride and a motherfucking baguette fight). They also make light of domestic abuse. I mean, if I'm paying top dollar to see a romantic comedy, I'm definitely going to need some jokes to be made at the expense of abuse victims.

Shock and dismay, she's seen his weakness. His father will never think he's good enough. That's why he's such a failure with a gambling problem. Oh fuck, he coaches little league and has other redeeming qualities including a shared interest in extremely popular movies. That's definitely something to base a marriage on. That and a court order.

Why must TV and movies repeatedly force the idea down our throats that if you rrreeeeeeeeeeeeeaaaaaally hate someone enough, one day you'll miraculously find out you both love Star Wars or some shit and suddenly be in love. No. If you really hate someone enough and you both like Star Wars you'll realize that Star Wars is one of the most popular film franchises of all time and that this person is still a fucking asshole.

Oh, she's come to the fancy ball all dolled up and now it's becoming very clear to him that he loves her. You know, because her regular clothes were not enough. Love is based entirely on the physical appearance of someone when they are wearing an expensive dress. "I didn't realize she was beautiful because she was only wearing her normal clothes." The major difference between the two: this dress is strapless and she's wearing a push-up bra. Thank you, What Happens in Vegas for showing me that love = boobies.

They do, inevitably, fall in love but only after they get a divorce and after a big, obnoxious courtroom scene with Queen Latifa. They end up back together and I end up losing faith in humanity and also spilling bourbon all over my bed in a fit of rage.

The most fucked up thing about this movie is the fact that I am sure there are women all over the world watching this and thinking "I wish I could be in a relationship where someone loves me like this." Women of the world: no you don't. This is the absolute definition of an unhealthy relationship. They treat each other like shit but according to film logic it's okay because they're in love? "Hey honey, I took a shit in your bed." "That's okay, sweetie. We love each other and that's all that matters."

Luckily, none of you have to watch this train wreck. Although, I technically didn't have to either. It is easily one of the worst written full-length features that I have ever seen. I'm telling you that this was physically painful to endure. Please do not watch it; not only for yourself, but for the sake of society as a whole. If I had a choice between having a wisdom tooth removed and re-watching this, I would choose the former since it is at least accompanied by prescription drugs. Now, if you'll excuse me, I have to go sleep on a liquor-soaked mattress.