Back in July of this year, in the middle of some potentially
scary medical issues (multiple hospital visits, a lot of dead-ends as to what
the hell was going from doctors, that kind of thing), I only managed to get one review done in that whole month.
Knowing the frank inconsistency in terms of when reviews get posted here and at
what frequency, I still feel like I hideously dropped the ball. Partly because
it showed a certain amount of slackness on my part (hobby or no hobby, I take
this work far too seriously to let a little thing like potential death get in the way of
it, and I am actually serious about that point) and partly because that one
review was on a film that I both hated and could probably write a thorough
review for without even seeing it. Yes, Rough Night is legitimately that bad,
one of the latest instances of the ‘chick flick’ sub-genre digging itself into
a cesspool of hatefulness and misguided intentions.
Well, in a double
saving-throw, I am looking at a film that has a lot of similarities to Rough
Night on the surface (distaff Hangover knock-off) and giving myself a chance to look like somewhat less of a sexist
asshole by showing how that very idea can work… supposedly. This could be just
as bad, or worse, or it could be legitimately decent; only one way to find out.
Keep all grapefruits out of arm’s reach.
