from the Back Row
The Mexican: Not Enough for Everyone
Jerry must make a decision. If he goes to Las Vegas, he gets laid. If he goes to Mexico, he gets paid. If Jerry doesn't go to Las Vegas, he loses his girlfriend. If he doesn't go to Mexico, he loses his life. Tough call?
Jerry agonizes over this problem for a second or two while happy Mexican music plays in the background. Then, we cut to Mexico. What? Uhh… Jerry… Are you some kind of moron? Most guys would happily take a bullet in the back for a shot at Julia Roberts.
On the other hand, Sam (Roberts), a shrill, demanding control freak, shouldn't set ultimatums. After all, in Mexico ten dollar hookers come a dime a dozen, and tequila flows like water from a spigot. (Sorry, Sam. I'm with Jerry on this one.)
In Mexico amid sinister, foreign circumstances, Jerry makes the connection with the kid and takes possession of the antique pistol. The Mexican, we learn in a flashback voice-over accompanied by Clint Eastwood theme music, comes with stories. These stories portray love and honor, desire and devotion, sensitivity and suicide. Something for everyone.
Things turn sour when the locals, celebrating Tuesday, fire their guns in the air. What goes up must come down. And the kid, with too much tequila under his belt and too little body armor over his head, takes a stray bullet in the noggin. Then, things go from bad to worse as Jerry's pistol gets stolen, his El Camino gets car-jacked, and his passport gets confiscated. Without that passport, Jerry will never get out of Mexico. Just ask any lawn technician in El Paso.
Meanwhile in Las Vegas, Leroy, the homosexual hit man, kidnaps Sam to put pressure on Jerry to return The Mexican to the Mob Boss. Otherwise, Sam gets rubbed out.
I say bring on the tequila and the ten dollar hookers, it's party time in Tijuana. But, nooo. Dumb-ass Jerry turns macho. He decides to get the gun back and try to save his charming, wide-mouthed beauty.
Like Snatch, The Mexican trudges along with no plot. Its sequence of events, sometimes interesting, occasionally funny, eventually culminates in a conclusion. I liked the dog with the football. What an actor! I give it a C.
Dixie says: Everyone in the movie looked dirty except the homo hit man. (Can I say the "H" word here? Some people take offense at the term "hit man.") Julia Roberts, acting unusually obnoxious, bored me to tears. And I loved Brad Pitt, but he couldn't save this loser movie. Given a choice, I would rather watch two porcupines copulate. I give this movie a D.
Don & Dixie Mitchell
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enjoyed your reviews, especially Don and Dixie's movie reviews. They put
a little freshness into a world too often filled with the likes of a Roger
Ebert or Rex Reed -- the cynical professional types who like nothing better
than to rave on about the "hidden esoteric meanings of life" found in
a film, they think, while us common folks just want to be entertained
by good actors and a reasonable story line.
I read Don & Dixie's review of The Mexican today. I was enjoying it until I got to Dixie's part of the review, where she said in the first sentence:
"Everyone in the movie looked dirty, except the HOMO "hit man". (Emphasis added.)
I must object to the term "homo." This word is an offensive way of saying a man is gay/homosexual. I view it as a "hate" word and don't know anyone who uses it. I equate this word with other perjoratives for race, faith, sexual orientation, etc.
I'm not trying to be "politically correct" or stifle free speech. I am a rabid free speecher. But in my experience, "homo" is a word homophobics use, especially guys. I don't believe Crescent Blues should use this word.
Changing the word to homosexual will still preserve the joke without offending anyone.
Lynn I. Miller
Lynn I. Miller also writes for Crescent Blues. Her most recent review is Hannibal: The Consummate Villain