All the way back on Oct. 7, 2009, Everyview contributor Andrew Majors penned a positive review for the independent dramady film Away We Go, giving it a 7.75/10.
At the time, I hadn’t seen the film, so naturally I had no problem allowing him to express his mostly positive opinion. Tragically, I did eventually have the misfortune of watching this movie, which I found to be an appalling piece of arrogant dreck that Mr. Majors rated 7.75 points too high.
And while I would never force one of our contributors to alter his opinion to match mine, I couldn’t in good conscious give off the impression that his views formed an overall consensus at the Everyview HQ (which isn’t so much an office as it is a house/daycare center in a sketchy part of Terre Haute, IN). Because of that, and the sad fact that I literally don’t have anything current to write about, here is my ridiculously out-of-date recount of one of the most torturous film-viewing experiences I will ever encounter.
In Away We Go John Krasinski and Mya Rudolph play Burt and Verona, a couple of smug hipster jackoffs who unexpectedly find themselves expecting a child. With nothing tying them down, they hit the road to find an ideal place to raise the kid, only to find that no matter where they go, the people they encounter are fucking CA-RAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAZAY!
Here is as thorough a plot breakdown as this movie requires:
- Burt and Verona visit friends with kids, only to discover that, boy, are these people just the nuttiest bunch of nuts you’ve ever seen!
- Unsatisfied, Burt and Verona move to a new location, displaying their cool, detached pensiveness by staring blankly ahead at all times as Alexi Murdoch music plays on the soundtrack.
- Steps 1 and 2 repeat for 98 of the most insufferable minutes you will ever experience, not just as a film viewer, but as a human being.
I initially had hope for this movie. It was directed by Sam Mendes, who made both the Oscar winning American Beauty and the unappreciated near-masterpiece Road To Perdition. However, any possibility for an enjoyable experience this time around died immediately, when it became clear that Mendes had shot the movie on location inside his own rectum.
Seriously, the only way this movie could have been more self-congratulatory is if its director had interrupted each scene by walking on camera with a bullhorn screaming “LOOK AT HOW QUIRKY WE ARE BEING HERE!” Even then the difference would have barely been discernible.
The writing, direction, and acting delves so far into caricature, it makes Trey Parker’s celebrity impressions on South Park seem subtle and understated. Of course, none of this would be a problem if the movie was funny. It isn’t.
It wasn’t funny watching Maggie Gyllenhaal’s moronic hippie who was once known as Ellen, but because she is playing a character that only exists in the worst kind of indie comedies, hilariously altered her name to “LN.” If that’s amusing to you, I find it highly unlikely that I would ever seek out your friendship.
It especially wasn’t funny watching the talented Allison Janney humiliate herself beyond words as an obnoxious loudmouth, who we know is just a hoot because, get this, she freely swears around her young children! I mean, who could possible avoid laughing themselves into convulsion at the site of a 50-year-old white woman doing an impromptu rap number about how her “dyke” 12-year-old daughter had a lot of “junk in her trunk?” Tee… Hee… Hee…
Though quieter, the leads are equally obnoxious, mainly because they are the visual representation of this movie’s extreme condescension. Rudolph is only a middle-of-the-road talent even with good material and ever since Jim and Pam got together on The Office, Krasinski has yet to produce one second of footage on TV or in film where I haven’t wanted to smack the smug look off of his (admittedly handsome) face.
Away We Go is a movie made by assholes, for assholes, and could only truly be enjoyed by people who are no less than 100 percent certain of their own moral superiority to the rest of the human race.
I’ve never been in a fist fight in my life, but if I could have somehow developed the powers to transform this cinematic skidmark into a real person, I would have punched it in its smarmy little face over and over again, and about a week into the beating, it would have been subjected to about one-tenth the pain that was inflicted onto me during it’s 1 hr. 38 min. running time.
Final Score : A big fat 0/10 (Worse than newborn porn).