The Time Machine

Bomb Rating: 

It's been reported that director Simon Wells had to turn this film over to director Gore Verbinski for the last 18 days because Wells was suffering from "exhaustion." In Hollywood, "exhaustion" usually translates to "drug overdose," "emergency liposuction" or just plain simple "failure."

It was brought to my attention by one of the newspapers that runs Mr. Cranky for free that I have a tendency to be critical of women's bodies, thereby perpetuating needless objectification. This was brought up in the context of the "Iris" review in which I criticized Kate Winslet's nipples as being particularly free-spirited in both appearance and shape. The comment was then made: "Why don't you attack men's bodies?"

Guy Pearce and his incredibly small and shriveled penis star in this movie as Alexander Hardegen, a late-19th century inventor who is compelled to invent a time machine after his fiancé is murdered. Naturally, he wants to go back in time and save her. Unfortunately, it doesn't work. His best friend, the bulbous, disgusting, micro-penised Dr. David Philby (Mark Addy), tries to get him to forget about it, but Alexander ignores him, hops in the time machine, and travels to the future.

Initially, Hardegen travels a few hundred years ahead, but doesn't find what he wants. He then goes back in the machine, bumps his head, and ends up hundreds of thousands of years in the future where society has evolved into hunters (Morlocks) and prey (Eloi). We immediately sympathize with the Eloi because their women wear form fitting clothing and are really hot. However, besides flitting around their idyllic paradise and fretting about the Morlocks, the Eloi don't do much of anything -- they're basically welfare bums. At least the Morlocks hunt for a living. Eventually, Hardegen confronts the head Morlock (Jeremy Irons), who is this weird albino with an unimpressive physique and nipples far freakier than Kate Winslet's. One assumes that his scrotum is dramatically asynchronous and that his ass sags as well. He doesn't look good, basically.

It's been reported that director Simon Wells had to turn this film over to director Gore Verbinski for the last 18 days because Wells was suffering from "exhaustion." In Hollywood, "exhaustion" generally translates to "drug overdose," "emergency liposuction" or just plain simple "failure." Given the exhaustion I endured merely watching this movie, I'd say Wells had a full-blown case of the latter.

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