"Boat Trip" is the kind of movie tailor-made for bilking unsuspecting foreign nationals out of their investment money. You have to feel for the poor fools who ripped the little paper tab from the bottom of the "become a Hollywood mogul!" sign and proceeded to turn over a significant chunk of the retirement fund to have their names listed as "associate producers" of this floating fiasco. There's little hope of legal recourse, however, because technically, a movie got made, right? And technically, it even had an Oscar winner in it, right?
No, not Marisa Tomei, not Mira Sorvino, but Oscar winner Cuba Gooding Jr., whose subsequent career path should inspire the Academy's Best Supporting Actor nominees to hide under their seats during this year's awards ceremony / war protest. Cuba plays the nostalgically named Jerry, who barfs on his girlfriend (Vivica A. Fox) while proposing to her, then, once dumped, escapes with fellow loser Nick (Horatio Sanz) to get some R&R on a singles cruise. However, after angering their travel agent, they're booked on a gay cruise. But here's the thing: THEY'RE NOT GAY! Can you imagine the hijinks that follow?
There were actual lines in this movie that caused people across the audience to turn to each other and say "What?" in audible unison. Cuba and Horatio compensate for a wasteland of a screenplay by overplaying every pathetic half-joke as though it were the last glass of water in a vast desert of unfunny. To make matters worse, the film's humor veers between romantic comedy (as Jerry pursues the ship's female dance instructor, played by Roselyn Sanchez) and "Airplane"-style absurdity (such as with the sudden appearance of the Swedish suntanning team), but can't commit to either genre. The result is lots of humor punchlined by someone spitting out his drink as an expression of surprise.
Also appearing in this film is Roger Moore, whose role as a lecherous old gay guy is designed to make the audience screech when James Bond suggestively licks a breakfast sausage. Given his dearth of recent roles, Roger probably signed up just for the free breakfast, but the producers got suspicious when he kept demanding take after delicious take.
And oh, those wacky gays. You know what I learned about gays? They're outrageous, every one. They have gay sex constantly, without discretion. They all love Bette Midler and showtunes and sing "I Will Survive" until they're blue in the face. They live to wear giant feathered costumes and strut around stage in drag. They wear heavy makeup and screech a lot, even when performing surprisingly non-gay day jobs such as firemen and policemen. Most importantly, however, beneath the waxed chest of every gay male beats a heart of gold, because all gays are at their core sensitive and vulnerable and wounded. And thanks to Hollywood's continued sensitivity, I can now spot a gay from a mile away.
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