PLANET SICK-BOY: http://www.sick-boy.com
Apparently, while Billy Crystal spends all of his free time tying to figure out how to work the names of all five `Best Picture' nominees into an irritating song and dance number, he has his mongoloid nephew read scripts and recommend projects for him. Note to Billy – IT'S OVER!
In his latest big screen blunder, Crystal (Father's Day) stars as an unsuccessful New York talent agent named Sammy. He currently has but one client, an annoying pre-pubescent douche bag that is currently filming a `Crusades' picture in Romania. After travelling around the world to the location, Sammy in unceremoniously dumped by the little brat. Why he had to go there at all, I will never know.
Thankfully, Sammy gets into a car wreck, but he doesn't die. In fact, he is saved by a seven-and-a-half foot glandular case named Max (NBA star Gheorge Muresan). The giant lives with a bunch of monks because the townsfolk call him mean names. These monks are the kind that don't talk. Or maybe they're the kind of monks who just don't talk in front of Billy Crystal because they were raised to not say anything if they can't say anything nice. I do think there was one in the background giggling about Mr. Saturday Night.
Anyway, Max drags Sammy back to his lair (which oddly resembles Crystal's home in The Princess Bride) and prattles on and on about his long lost love who moved to Gallop, New Mexico. He even has stacks and stacks of letters that he has written to her. Why they are still in his possession, I will never know.
Not the type of guy to pass up the exploitation of a big stupid freak, Sammy talks Max into becoming a movie star as well as an opportunity to reunite with his beloved. This Max is some actor. His dopey grin and cross-eyed blank stare make Andrew Shue look like an acting great. Although he is a better screen presence than Shaq and Michael Jordan, Muresan still makes my want to bash something apart with some type of power tool.
Here's an idea – when you make a movie about a big tall guy, how about showing him in places that normal people find cramped. Max gets to go on an airplane and in a cab, but we don't get to see either. I would have loved to have seen him crushing his Frankenstein head into the overhead compartment or try to use the bathroom. Something…anything. Instead, My Giant's script is loosely held together by one of the greatest vomiting scenes in history.
Or here is an even better story – instead of helping Sammy, Max eats him. He still becomes a big movie star and even gets to present an award at the Oscars. Instead of reading the names of the nominees, Max pulls down his pants and craps out Sammy, who burst into a song and dance number. Jesus, I've got to write a script. All I need is the address for Billy's nephew.
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