Friday, January 7, 2011

You gotta love a weddin'

Ye may be a wonderin' where me've been fer lo, these many months. Tis a subject me'd rather not broach at this, nor any, time. Suffice it to say, twas not a savory tale. But during me extended time away, I had some time to reflect. And I's come to a troublin' conclusion that me must share with ye.
Tis nay secret that an old salt such as ye see before ye has never taken a wench to wife. For me lady is the sea. And who needs a wedding, when you're subjected to constant wetting. A little seagoin' humour there, in no way intended to reflect negative upon me continence. Ay, yer cap'n has been on many a continent, but I challenge any man to call me incontinent. Twill be the last words he ever utters right before he sees the flash of me cutlass gleamin' against his scurvy bowels.
But me digress. I were parlayin' about weddin's. And jist because I's ne'er entered into the unholy bonds of matrimony me'self, me can still recognize a strange and unexpected truth. That bein' that any movie with "Weddin'" in the title will be a fine movie indeed. You doubt me at yer own peril. For here be the proof thereof.
The Weddin' Crashers (cleaned up version, o' course. I's a family-friendly pirate) is a non-stop ballyhoo o' laughter and hi-jinx. That Vince Vaughn and Owen Wilson never fail to tickle me funny bone. If ye ever see a pirate ship literally rockin' with laughter, chances are it's me and the boys watchin' this gem.
Four Weddin's and a Funeral tis another wedding classic that catapulted Hugh Grant into stardom and all the pitfalls that entails. And I loves a good funeral as much as the next salt, but you'll never convince me that they could have stuffed so much heartwarmin' love and good fun into the movie had there only been the funeral with nay the weddings.
Me Best Friend's Wedding be another guilty pleasure fer yer old friend the Cap'n. I'm not admittin' to watching it over an over again, nor nothing so troublin' as that, but 'twas an enjoyable bit o' codswallop. And it dared to make Julia Roberts into a sort of despicable character that you didn't know whether to root for or to kick in her freakishly oversized (though lovely) maw.
The Weddin' Planner has J-Lo starrin' as a lovable Puerto Rican girl what happens to be a talented planner of weddin's. But me thinks her business is going to fall on hard times when folks catch wind o the fact that she'll steal yer intended. Or maybe that was Maid in Manhattan. Me gets confused, because they's basically the same movie. But it nay matters, because they both warms the cockles of me cold, black heart.
And let's nary ferget Me Big, Fat Greek Weddin' wi that cross-eyed Greek wench what wrote and starred in her first movie and made billions o' doubloons, because it were wicked funny. Had it been named somethin' else, like Me Big, Fat Greek Buttocks, 'twould nary have been nearly as successful, what once again proves me point that having "Wedding" in the title improves any movie.
Which brings me to the pinnacle of nay only the wedding movies, but of all movies, that bein' The Wedding Singer. Me can only hope that in time, the hotsy-totsy literati and what-nay will recognize this as the greatest movie ever made, and shut their scurvy yaps about Citizen Kane. Tis not even in color, fer cryin' out loud. And when Robbie sings "I Wanna Grow Old Wi Ye" to Julia, methinks I even saw a tear in Billy Idol's eye, and it were real. Ye can't fake that kind o' emotion.
So let me wrap this up in sailcloth with a cannonball inside: A wedding is a tragedy in real life, but in the title of a movie, 'tis a chest full o' gold bullion.