Ghosts of Girlfriends Past
After a promising start in independent flicks, Matthew McConaughey quickly realized that the quickest way to cut to the head of the line leading to the Hollywood ATM was to squander his career on a series of roles that essentially involved him making bedroom eyes at the film’s leading lady and then taking off his shirt, over and over again.
In a sense, he is a genius. This simple sequence of events is all it takes to slide millions of 10 dollar bills out of the pocketbooks of his devoted female audience on a regular basis. McConaughey’s slick talking, easygoing demeanor has a similar vibe to that creepy uncle in your family that no one likes to talk about but who gets invited to all the holiday gatherings, except instead of sliding a single finger further and further up your shorts Matthew’s actually got his hand in your wallet.
Unsurprisingly, “Ghosts of Girlfriends Past” doesn’t deviate from the standard McConaughey playbook. A tepid re-telling of Dickens’ “A Christmas Carol,” instead of ill-gained riches the lead character finds himself knee deep in fast and easy pussy, a situation meant to help endear him to the reluctant boyfriends dragged along to this chick flick but which unfortunately only makes every man in the audience feel completely inadequate no matter how many MILFs they might have under their belt. In a surprisingly original turn for a major motion picture, it turns out that McConaughey actually still pines for the one that got away, played by a horse-faced Jennifer Garner who still inexplicably qualifies as a sex symbol despite having recently popped out 2 of Ben Affleck’s nasty, nasty spawn.
Set at his brother’s wedding and featuring Michael Douglas as the ghost of STD’s past, the film runs through the predictable “jackass success junkie ruins everyone’s good time” plot points and manages to disengage a viewer’s interest for almost the entire 100 minutes. A series of flashbacks allowed us to witness McConaughey’s chesty magnificence in a number of period disguises and costumes, most notably his late-90’s Fabio-esque hair explosion.
Sadly, during all of this, there are no tits to be found onscreen. This was particularly disappointing as one of the co-stars of the movie, Lacey Chabert, is right about now entering the downswing of whatever lingering fame her jailbait status on “Party Of Five” might have afforded her, which means that she is ripe for a career-affirming display of gratuitous nudity. Alas, we will have to wait for whatever drunken mogul mistakenly casts her in his next gritty film about the perils of marrying into a really rich family.
I can’t recommend that you go see “Ghosts of Girlfriends Past” in the same way that I can’t recommend getting a vasectomy. Sure, initially both seem like a good idea, but in the end one leaves you swollen and sore and full of regret and the other involves waking up in surgical recovery room. I’ll let you figure out which one is which.
To spread the word about this Ghosts of Girlfriends Past review on Twitter.To get instant updates of Mr. Cranky reviews, subscribe to our RSS feed.