Death Race

Hello everyone! I had a wonderful weekend in the Florida Keys. My oh my, what a time. My old college roomate Dan Gorman and his son Brad came down from N.Y. for a couple days. We took the boat out, tossed back a couple brews. It was great... I may have to sell the boat though. Ever since the divorce I have had some serious cashola problems...

Anyway I was asked to an exclusive viewing of this new actioner Death Race, and since I was so stress-free and relaxed from a weekend on the water, I figured why not?

Why not, indeed... This "movie" is tantamount to a 90-minute stream of flatulence blown mercilessly into the viewers face. The leading man looks like my building's Super after a night of drinking, and I don't know if he's Irish or what, but I can't understand a word he says. His head is lumpy and he is going bald. In my day we had real leading men: Burt Renyolds and...well I guess just Burt Renyolds... Anyway, nobody in this picture had one iota of charisma, so I won't hold it against whats-his-name.

Of the countless gripes I have with this 'film', the worst has to be the casting of Tyrese Gibson. He seems put there to serve one sole purpose: To spontaneously laspse into a wide and bright-eyed-grin, squinting and sort of shake his head in joyful disbelief. I don't know... I don't find him cute, and I don't even know what he was supposed to be in this film.

The plot revolves around, you guessed it: a Death Race. Big. Fucking. Deal. This is the kind of script you usually find propping up some exec's wobbly massage table, but somehow it got turned into a real live film. Too bad, there is a Weinstein somewhere with a strained lumbar and he ain't happy.

-1/4 Flems.