My low pain threshold won't allow me to rehash "Morning Glory's" plot any further, but I will leave you with this word of advice: Jeff Goldblum has become this generation's kiss of death for both box office and critical success.
Not every cinematic hero can age like fine wine – most make it through the years looking more like an old pair of slippers left out in the rain and buried by a pack of stray dogs. Harrison Ford proves that with gusto in "Morning Glory," a throwaway film that continues the once-talented actor's slide into grumpy old man roles that are effectively erasing his legacy from the minds of longtime fans.
Stop me if you've heard this one: an upstart, career-focused young professional (Rachel McAdams) gets her big break at a flailing TV network and has to come to terms with a cantankerous old star (Ford) yanked out of retirement for one last tour of duty in front of the camera. Along the way, the star discovers that life really isn't as bad as he has made it out to be, the young star gets a lesson in loyalty and respect, and we all learn a little bit about ourselves before going home to our own empty lives filled with missed opportunities and fracture relationships.
You've seen "Morning Glory" before, at least twenty times. What you haven't seen is this tired old chestnut re-enacted with such a talentless cast and low production values. Ford's career tailspin continues as he barely even feigns going through the motions here, leaving me wondering if perhaps he secretly died several years prior to the filming of "Firewall" and was instantly replaced by a hastily re-skinned Abe Lincoln from the animatronic exhibit at Disneyland. It would explain so much – the one-note crankiness, the inability to bend at the waste and the mysterious "recharging" sequences where Ford's character's speech pattern slows down so much it's almost like I can hear his heart struggling to beat faster than 20 times per second.
My low pain threshold won't allow me to rehash "Morning Glory's" plot any further, but I will leave you with this word of advice: Jeff Goldblum has become this generation's kiss of death for both box office and critical success. Move over, Dan Aykroyd – the human fly has taken over your role as an instant indicator that the movie is going to suck, and suck hard. I don't know what personal financial crisis / uncontrollable drug habit has spurred Goldblum's recent spate of supporting roles in completely shitty films, but if this trend continues Goldlbum's resume will rapidly begin to fill with an impressive array of total failures that will easily outweigh his touching explanation of chaos theory in the first "Jurassic Park." His completely unnecessary role in "Morning Glory" as an indifferent TV executive could have been filled with equal versatility by either a hotwired Teddy Ruxpin or perhaps a broken Speak n' Spell.
My own personal theory: if Goldblum and Aykroyd were in the same room, at the same time, then a hole would open in the fabric of space that would suck all of the funny off of the planet forever. I call it the "AykBlum Singularity," and the only way to fight against it would be to activate the "NicCageDevice." Which you never, ever want to do. Be afraid. Be very afraid.
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