The film begins with the line, 'Everything in this film is fiction and fantasy; any resemblance to real life is purely coincidental'. This is acclaimed Spanish director Pedro Almodovar's opening conceit, his attempt at irony, for what is undoubtedly his worst film to date.
Billed as 'A feel-good celebration of human sexuality', it neither perks you up, nor entices you to pop a cork. It is devoid of wit, originality and skill. I laughed not once. I came away feeling low and full of regret.
The story – if one can honestly call it that – is this. A technical fault causes an aeroplane to fly around in circles until a clear runway is found for a safe landing. Meanwhile the all-gay crew entertain the eccentric passengers – everyone from a former Dominatrix called Miss Take (hah hah), a virginal clairvoyant who claims she can smell death, a disgraced business man, a Mexican hit man and a drug mule.
The crew's awful burlesque of the famous Pointer Sister song (which the film usurps for its title) – meant to be the film's pinnacle – turns out to be its nadir. But no. Lower depths are found, thanks to the stream- of-consciousness plot, which is a stream of banality and embarrassment. One of the crew has the bright idea of spiking passengers' drinks with the drug mule's mescaline pills – but not without first nosing to check how well they were smuggled.
Ennui becomes too much for some who decide – I think influenced by the pills – to let carnality take over. I should have joined the elderly gentleman who left as soon as the clairvoyant did what she really ought not to have done to the sleeping man. But, like a man determined to confront a phobia, I stayed to endure the nightmare.
Please do not think this is one of those so-bad-you-must-see-it films. In case my diatribe has still not convinced you to stay away, tell me if you find this funny. A steward wipes something from the lip of another steward who has just visited the bisexual pilot. Disbelieving the reason for his disappearance, he licks his finger to confirm what he thinks it is. (Let me provide a clue: it isn't milk.)
Any fool knows that a joke is not always funny in another language. So, if nothing else, Almodovar proves that the worst of American humour is a whole lot worse in Spanish. Worst of all, 'I'm so Excited' manages to be something which most films, no matter how immoral or subversive, cannot be: pointless.
www.moseleyb13.com
Billed as 'A feel-good celebration of human sexuality', it neither perks you up, nor entices you to pop a cork. It is devoid of wit, originality and skill. I laughed not once. I came away feeling low and full of regret.
The story – if one can honestly call it that – is this. A technical fault causes an aeroplane to fly around in circles until a clear runway is found for a safe landing. Meanwhile the all-gay crew entertain the eccentric passengers – everyone from a former Dominatrix called Miss Take (hah hah), a virginal clairvoyant who claims she can smell death, a disgraced business man, a Mexican hit man and a drug mule.
The crew's awful burlesque of the famous Pointer Sister song (which the film usurps for its title) – meant to be the film's pinnacle – turns out to be its nadir. But no. Lower depths are found, thanks to the stream- of-consciousness plot, which is a stream of banality and embarrassment. One of the crew has the bright idea of spiking passengers' drinks with the drug mule's mescaline pills – but not without first nosing to check how well they were smuggled.
Ennui becomes too much for some who decide – I think influenced by the pills – to let carnality take over. I should have joined the elderly gentleman who left as soon as the clairvoyant did what she really ought not to have done to the sleeping man. But, like a man determined to confront a phobia, I stayed to endure the nightmare.
Please do not think this is one of those so-bad-you-must-see-it films. In case my diatribe has still not convinced you to stay away, tell me if you find this funny. A steward wipes something from the lip of another steward who has just visited the bisexual pilot. Disbelieving the reason for his disappearance, he licks his finger to confirm what he thinks it is. (Let me provide a clue: it isn't milk.)
Any fool knows that a joke is not always funny in another language. So, if nothing else, Almodovar proves that the worst of American humour is a whole lot worse in Spanish. Worst of all, 'I'm so Excited' manages to be something which most films, no matter how immoral or subversive, cannot be: pointless.
www.moseleyb13.com