Okay, this is the second film I've seen in the last three months involving Julianne Moore playing an unfulfilled housewife during the 1950s where her lack of fulfillment has something to do with homosexuality. In "Far From Heaven," Julianne's husband is gay and she's not getting any. In "The Hours," she's gay and she doesn't want any from her husband Dan (John C. Reilly).
Actually, "The Hours" is all about lesbians and anybody who knows anything about movies knows that the main reason you put lesbians in a movie is very simple: hot lesbian sex. Really, what is better than hot lesbian sex? Men will flock like sheep to the slaughter if they even get a whiff of hot lesbian sex, which makes it an excellent means to gain box-office. In fact, if you simply retitled this film "Hot Lesbian Sex" I can almost guarantee it would make ten times what it's going to make with its current title. Similarly, including the words "hot lesbian sex" in a review of "The Hours" might even increase the number of Google hits that review receives, especially when combined with the words "John Ashcroft anal intrusion."
Believe it or not, hot lesbian sex is the answer to just about every problem in "The Hours," which weaves three different stories through three different time periods into one film, creating an effect akin to being a schizophrenic whose meds are wearing off. First, there's Virginia Woolf (Nicole Kidman), who's working on her book "Mrs. Dalloway" and could really use some hot lesbian sex. Hell, she kisses her sister, Vanessa Bell (Miranda Richardson), hard on the lips. That just screams "hot lesbian sex." Then there's Laura Vaughn (Julianne Moore), who kisses her neighbor, Kitty (Toni Collette), hard on the lips. Finally, there's Clarissa Vaughan (Meryl Streep), who's a book editor during the present day. She's well ensconced in a long relationship with her lover, Sally (Allison Janney), but Sally sneaks into bed late one night and we immediately know what Clarissa is lacking in her life. That's right: "hot lesbian sex."
A lot of this film revolves around Woolf's "Mrs. Dalloway." Let me just say something about "Mrs. Dalloway." BORING!! Have you ever tried to read that thing? BORING!! I've had concussions that were more intellectually stimulating. The irony of this failed intellectual catalyst is that "Mrs. Dalloway" lacks exactly the same thing "The Hours" lacks, a thing that could have put each over the top and made them among the most popular works in their genre. And what is that thing? That's right. Everyone say it with me, with feeling: "hot lesbian sex."
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