They Came Together. And You Will Too.

Hi. Rob Serrini here. Film Critic. Welcome and Action.

Upon my never ending quest to better the film-watching community with vitriol so accurate about cinema today (while trolling every IMDB page I can) I wondered, or perhaps came across a new little “Poehludd” vehicle who’s title peaked, so to phrase, my interest:

“They Came Together” **

A 5.3 star out of 10 rating intrigued me as I am often at odds with common Luddite opinions of film (example gratis: anything made by Sir Mike Bay I consider “live animation” and not actually “cinema” and deserves to be watched only in the back of a taxi cab on the way to a long day of jury duty in Jackson Heights, Queens.)

Interest peaked, I shelled out the $6.99 USD to Amazon LLC and had the film screened to my color balanced Sony 25″ Trimaster EL OLED Master Monitor. Yes, the F Series. Because I’m not a peon who likes to read coloring books.

At first glance (which is always blind said Virgil) this is your pedestrian romantic comedy. Boy meets girl, looses, and then obtains her again. Girl is cute with sassy ambitions, boy is lost with secret passions, and the film is set in… New York City. Thank you Harold and Sarah for ruining it for everyone (you too Robert Reiner. You fuck.) I digress… this was my first glance. As I slowly sunk into a common depression and anxiety for the future of cinema I realized that something magical, yes, magical was taking place…

The film was sentient.

Yes. A film, about, a film. The film knew it was a film, the actors, aware that in fact, they were in a romantic comedy, and the humor and script were in fact two sided, as jokes played on the level of characters withing a scenario and actors portraying characters acting out in said scenario.

Nothing this brave has not belched the screen since the first “Scream” which isn’t so much a film as it is art history. Best you watch the trailer, for surely it is difficult enough to wrap your mind around such theory as is.

I was so enthralled with the juex du mots and cul du sac of plot that I became lost in the characters world, which was in fact, my world, as they knew I was watching a film. In truth I was thankful I did not have a plebeian profession that requires drug testing, as I was sure that this master director, Mr. Dave Wain, had surely drugged me. Oh lala.

I will not divulge any of the plot as frankly there is none (genius!), but at the heart, the film’s directive is a common critique on the natural state of current CHC. The over use of sujet vs fabula, the trite demand for archetypes that Campbell would roll his dead eyes at. This film thrusts the prolific dagger of defiance into the one eyed studio beast and proclaims “Fuck how Lubich would do it! This is how it is done. Bitch!” – a constant breeze seemed to come from my $16,000.00 USD, laboratory calibrated, lead lined monitor as if Apollo’s chariot was fueled by the photonic symphony that this film emitted. Such a brilliant piece of work I imagine both Bazin and Eisenstein masturbating in heaven together, each one grabbing the hog of the other, while simultaneously shouting “we are not worthy!” as they… yes… as “they came together”.

You too will cum together with this film, as I did, for the comedy is so hot, the attack on Hollywood Gestapoism so pornographic, that even the cold, sphincter, dead body of Goldwyn will sprout a 4.8 inch rabid erection and shout to the heavens “oh momma!” while jizing in his guilt lined, for he destroyed Hollywood, coffin, for eternity.

The film is “They Came Together”. The director is Mr. David Wain. The word is “go” as in see it.

I, as always, am Rob Serrini*, film critic. Goodday and Cut.


* Rob Serrini is also known as Roberto Serrini, as in the 1999 Film Studies graduate of the University of California in Santa Barbara. Roberto Serrini’s education was a rigorous intake of an encyclopedia of Film Theory that stretched the ages, that he never used a minute after he left the institution. In so 4 year, thousands of hours or reading Russian film theory, and analyzing more Buster Keaton films then is legal by state law, Roberto Serrini’s outlet is speaking earnestly about film and yelling at plants. Lastly, Roberto Serrini is a self aware film critic.

** Seriously, all joking aside, this film is fantastic. It’s like Airplane and The Kentucky Fried Movie had a child, and that child was invited over to Rob Reiner’s house, who was having an orgy, where Mel Brooks, The Waynes Brothers, and Baily Jay the Tranny were in attendance. Go. See.

finally. i can masturbate in my car.

Good. Got your attention. Problem is, I think we’re gonna loose it.

Here’s something new; a car that drives itself in traffic. I mean, we’ve all heard stories about car’s that drive themselves, but even your early adopting uncle Jack (you know, the dude that actually owns a Roomba) doesn’t have a self driving car.

Well this thing… exists. And works.

Dope idea right? Sorta. I may be an old fogie at 32 years old, but I like my drivers forced to control their vehicles. While I hate traffic as much as the next poor slob, them’s be the brakes, so to speak, with owning a personal combustion engine that portes you to work. Boo hoo, you gotta hit the break, then the gas, then the break. Walk, or better yet, take public transportation you lazy fuck; there’s no traffic in the club car, and you can drink on the way to work.

When I watch this asshead with his hands behind his head, I immediately think he’s dreaming he’s getting felacio from a down-and-out Lisa Whelchel (look it up). While texting and driving caused 23% of all traffic incidents last year, I cant help but wonder how long he can hold out from checking grinder. Or tinder. Or Furrier (Tinder for furries. trust.) 18 seconds, max, then, whamo. Right into the back of a bus caring child nuns with rescue kittens on the way to the hospice. Nice, real nice.

While I’m all for technology helping make time for us to masturbate more efficiently, like being able to make love to my iPad, or remotely able to get my partner off at Chipotle, I never want a device that allows me to masturbate that has the potential to kill. I mean, if it was a Lambo, that would be a different story, but Audi’s just aren’t that sexy.

Put your hands back on the wheel bro. Lisa ain’t coming around.