"The Ultimate Gift" is essentially "Brewster's Millions" for the Freddy Prinze crowd. This bag of fermenting garbage is only noteworthy to me because it ruined a first class flight to see family over Christmas. This was my first time outside of coach and I checked in online the day before solely to start looking down on "the cattle" well in advance. Indeed, lunchtime at T-minus 24 hours to takeoff was a marvelous time of bourgeoise abuse when I demanded extra napkins, more marinara sauce and snappier credit card authorization at the local meatball sub joint, all in the snottiest manner possible. The good life was at hand! In my power drunk, however, I missed a critical point. Apparently United does NOT, as expected, offer "select any goddamned movie in existence from the privacy of your own vibrating leather recliner as a concubine ensures the warmth of your genitals while pouring a 2000 Pauillac whenever your glass even nears 3/4 full" service. Nope. Instead, I got what the whole damned plane got- the same friggin' stream of filth served through lousy headphones (which masked the sound of twin engines only slightly less effectively than the canvas bag hid the softballs stuck to the Elephant Man's head) and a 3 millimeter diagonal Low-Def screen. Which was just as well.

To wit: Some douchebag trustafarian... I think it was the guy from "Win a Date with Whateverthefuckhisnameis". I don't honestly know. Nonetheless, the rich kid is handed the chance to "win" an inheritance of undetermined content from his asshole grandfather (James Garner in beyond-the-dead video. "If you are seeing this then I am dead..." No, if I'm seeing this, I WANT to die) who had alienated his entire asshole Texas-oil rich family prior to kicking off. He feels that Whateverthefuck was the one he hurt most and wants to make amends. Why? Stick around.

What ensues is an idiot's take on that shitpiece with Michael Douglas and I am Sam, "The Game", where the kid has to complete a series of poorly structured, character- building tasks (e.g. digging fencepost holes in Houston. Really.) to the satisfaction of the estate's executor (read: nice, sage black man who received a kidney from the old prick, thereby making the deceased a latter-day fucking saint... or God.). Whatever. Enter "little girl with cancer" and "hot, single mother of little girl with cancer" and 40,000 metric tons of syrup and you can figure the rest... Whatthefuck becomes Saint Whatthefuck, leukemia is probably cured, mommy gets the high-hard one finally and without major financial drawback, and St. WTF gets a couple billion dollars. Why? Because, we-the-viewing-public would not stand for that money NOT being accounted. Witness those who threw rocks at the screen once "No Country for Old Men" faded to black. We are scumbags- and so scumbags in our movies must win the lottery just as we most certainly should.I digress...

The only plot nugget of any kind was that Whatthefuck's father had been dead for a long time, Dead Grandaddy is responsible, nobody knows exactly why...and neither do I. Because, during the one sentence that made ANY difference whatsoever in this movie, while WTF was saving some Central American buddy from a drug cartel POW camp where his old man had bought it and the daddy-death was to be understood, the Flight Purser cut in to tell us that the captain had again removed the seatbelt sign. It was safe to walk around the cabin. But aisles don't leave the plane, so the info was of no use to anyone at that point. We could only pray for snakes.

Anyhow, I about blacked out from wine and bourbon by then and was dreaming of ruining my family's Christmas in much the same way this thing defiled my one shot at VIP status. And THAT, my kiddies, is the ULTIMATE gift.

--michael3b