No More Mr. Nice Guys ***SPOILERS***

  

I didn't know it was possible for a turd to cost 50 million dollars but as evidenced by Hollywood magick, it most certainly can in the form of a movie that should have never made it into production: The Nice Guys.

A completely misleading trailer, it was packaged as a comedy not a mystery/crime film.

Since nobody gives a shit about movie posters or their taglines anymore, except those living in a realm of nostalgia, had I known the tagline on this waste of space POS was "Nice Pair - This Summer" I wouldn't have seen it because that awful "phrasing" alone would have clued me on not wasting the two hours of my life that I can never get back.  The nice pair are certainly boobs but of the yahoo variety, however ladies and ladies, we're still going to squeeze them. 

In the context of the thing that aspired to be a film, the boobs are wannabe private dicks (ha, ha - get it? "dicks") Holland March (Gosling) and Jackson Healty (Crowe).  But in the context of reality, the two boobs are these anything but good boys or nice guys: Shane Black (Director) and Joel Silver (Producer). 

Mr. Noodle himself, Joel Silver

Shane Black

In 1991, Problem Child 2 had come out and my mother in a fit of moral outrage dragged me out of the movie and demanded her money back for our tickets.  Even at the tender age of 9, I was embarrassed and confused by her behavior, until she explained later to me what I now know is a defying and empowering act - walking out of a shoddy made movie, that glorifies debauchery, whose morality and ethos (or lack thereof) drive you to ask for your money back.  

The Nice Guys was the first film where I've ever found myself in the position of wanting to walk out on a movie and demand my money back.  I toughed it out because my fiancee appeared to be enjoying it and I was at least enjoying the air conditioning.  Found out later that he ended up sharing the exact same instincts about walking out. But he's a cheap-sake and we're both completionists, so we rode that turd into the station.

This film hasn't even grossed half the revenue that it took to make it as of this writing and to think that the 50 mil was there for this but not Detroit should enrage you.

It felt very cocaine inspired.  Not even 5 minutes into the film we got to watch a very little boy sneak into his father's stash of Playboy to ogle over Misty Mountains (Murielle Telio) topless centerfold only to have her splayed out in front of this same little boy IRL due to a completely unforeseen car crash.  Misty sits on a broken car, splattered with her own blood, dying but not mangled, spread purposely out to look exactly as she did in the centerfold in front of this child.  Tits covered in blood, blood coming out of her nose--because bleeding broken women are sexy now--in front of a boy that looked to be 9, and her last dying words were a purred, "Howdoya like my car, big boy?," to this boy right before she croaks topless and blood-splattered in front of him.  This was the opening scene and I found myself thinking about Ted Bundy's last interview given, so I was tense to see what this little boy would do.  He took his own shirt off and covered her.  I can't remember if it was just her breasts he covered or if he had also covered her face too. 

But this porn theme saturated and ruined the entire movie.  The excuse that there was a political message buried in the last pornography Misty was involved in wasn't enough to carry it or make it believeable.  It was an aimless and rambling plot, so peppered with troupes, it was boring.  They probably knew this, hence why it was so porn riddled.

So there's exactly 3 memorable adult female characters in the film, 2 are porn starlets, they both die.  Misty immediately and you get to see her nice pair.  And then the other one later Amelia (Margaret Qualley), who's made out to be some crazy-nut but it turns out she's ultimately right.  Both of those chicks are white.  Then there's your token romantic interest who's just evil and manipulative to the core, (Yaya DaCosta) she was black.  Then there was the 4th but not very memorable character of evil-senator-mom (Basinger) to Amelia.      

Holland March (Ryan Gosling) has an alcohol problem, no sense of smell, and a daughter named Holly (Angourie Rice).  Holly is alot like Penny from Inspector Gadget the cartoon circa 1980s in that she's the real detective.   

Her dad is this drunk who feels guilty because he let their original house burn down and Holly's mom die because he didn't listen to her about the gas leak she was smelling.

Another scene that seemed really unnecessary and was uncomfortable to watch was when Holly ended up sneaking into this swanky 70s porn party and got exposed to watching porn with two adults, one of which was a woman that was in the porn.  

Guess that's really what caused me to want to walk out, seeing imagery that represented and even showed a male and female minor being exposed to pornography, like I'm not paying good money to see that.  I am adult that has no interest in seeing a movie about children being exposed to adult erotic content, had I known those two moments were things I was going to be exposed to, I wouldn't have paid to see it!  And it is not because I am some prude or religious zealot, it's because I'm not a fucking child molester.  

Holly was obviously supposed to be a teenager in this movie, even though she looked like she was a young 11, because of certain behaviors, like sassing back at her father that she hated him and driving the car around, which was an interesting thing to stick in a movie that was trying desperately to 'date' itself for transpiring in the 70s because apparently we're all forgetting that young girls didn't really hit puberty at 9 or 11 back in the 1970s, it was happening more so in high school.  For instance, my mother had her first period around 16 or 17, which was normal for her generation.  I got my period in the 6th grade.  So it was an unusual "sign of the times" to bring attention to.

There's a zeitgeist that gets imprinted in all films, it's a chunk of mirror to show where y/our culture was at at the time.  If you have the discernment and critical thinking skills, you can gleam it out of its shell.  What I am referring to is expounded upon better in Stephen King's non-fiction work 'Danse Macabre'.  So what appears to really be in The Nice Guy's is our unspoken and as of yet undealt with fear of an end to innocence altogether.  That carnal knowledge will become common knowledge, even among children, because it has.  It's an unstoppable force that is already moving at the momentum of a flood of sugar, porn is everywhere.  None of us can outrun it.  We have a sex saturated culture, and we literally are doing it at the expense of the developing minds of youngsters, for the perversions of the few have now become indoctrinated into the culture as the perversions of many, and it is done in no other name but profit.  We forget, collectively, that when few gain money, many loose.  There's many loosing more than just money.  Alot of us are just loosing our humanity and our dignity, our ability to care more for the other than we do for the self.

So please, the next time you pay for a movie, and you know it's no good.  Don't do what I did.  Because I'm really a coward.  Walk out.  Film your walkout, speak your thoughts.  Film getting your money back.  Tweet your criticisms at the film itself and everyone involved in it.  Upload it on YouTube, on Instagram.  Do what you need to do to take your culture back.  Because culture isn't just movie tickets, it is ever so much more.  It is the world you are introducing and leaving to your children, if you're an actual parent or not, you as an adult are still responsible for all future generations. 

I could go on about how The Nice Guys used too much Dead Women In Fridges tropes, that too many supporting charters that were female were waitresses or literal furniture.  About how there was no true character development because in the end, Crowe's dude just turns into a PI drunk like Holland. The irony of how many little girls who grow up under the helm of a single alcoholic daddy isn't as very charming as this film would have you believe.   

My anger has merely devolved into a sick sadness.  

But I'm still going to tweet this @theniceguys and do #TheNiceGuys on said tweet.  Because the revolution will not be televised.