I took Drugs once. I liked it. I figured out how tinfoil worked, gave advice to my reflection, and felt blessed by the primary colors of my friends’ t-shirts. I recommend Drugs to anyone. The best Drugs is called Good Ass Shit, and that’s exactly what Asian men put a bag of inside nice Jewish girl Scarlett Johansson’s tummy-wummy in Luc Besson’s Lucy. Not only can this Drugs turn anyone into Jason Statham, but they’re also the pleasing sapphire hue of the Mediterranean. Anyone would be honored to have this Drugs inside them, except apparently for Scrablett Jimhenson, who flips her lid when the Drugs starts leaking into her body. Come on, Scrablett, be easy.
See, the Good Ass Shit is unlocking more and more of Surfbort Jabroni’s brain’s capacity. As we all know, we only use 10% of our brains, but haven’t you always wondered about if instead of breathing automatically, you could do math better? The more of her brain she unlocks, the more special powers Startrek Charlesmanson gains: the power to Shoot A Cabbie For Not Speaking English, the power to Change Her Hair For A Fun, Flirty Fall Look, the power to Use Her Sexuality In Culturally Sanctioned, Marketable Ways, the power to Interact With Everything Like Everything’s An iPad, and the power to Be A Confident, Independent Woman, the greatest power of all. Really, at its heart, Lucy is a success story. It’s the universal tale of how you don’t have to have an inspirational teacher and an indomitable spirit to live up to your full potential. You need only be a beautiful white party girl who takes the right drugs.
Meanwhile, Morgan Freeman plays against type as a quietly astounded scientist who speaks portentous phrases in measured tones and mostly stays in one place. He’s got theories about the human brain that sound suspiciously like widely discredited truisms and employs scientific phrasing like “It is estimated.” You know, like a professor does, right before a marine punches him. (That marine’s name? Albert Einstein.) He’s also the inspiration for my new business venture, Movie College, a cinematic fantasy college experience where students attend two minute lectures on subjects conspicuously relevant to an upcoming disaster or global event, and then mill around blandly on the quad while the professor walks through campus with his best friend, discussing his marital troubles. Everyone leaves with a degree and a picture of themselves being called “Ass-Munch” by a guy named Chet in a letterman jacket.
The challenge of any movie like this is how to ultimately re-assert that it’s actually a not-so-great thing that SoCal Jumanji’s ascended to living godhood, even though over the last two hours we’ve seen how preposterously cool it’s made her as she struts around all vengeful. Sarlacc Jablowme has already evolved past the threshold of consciousness once, in the sadboy fuckromp Her, and soon Morgan Freeman will be talking down notable computer-man Johnny Depp in Transcendence. In every case, it needs to be reiterated that it’s better to be human than to be in pretty much every way superior to humans, usually because you no longer have empathy. Conversely, though, empathy is apparently the only thing standing in the way of us having telekinesis. Move over, flight vs. invisibility, there’s a new go-to would-you-rather in town for limp discussions between groups of acquaintances at sports bars!
I will say that I like that the movie’s called Lucy. I imagine it came down to that or The Cockamamie Exploits Of Mademoiselle Lysergic Acid Diethylamide, and I think they made the right choice.
THREE STARS DUE TO I’M NOT LETTING THESE GO TO WASTE: SLUMLORD JOESTRUMMER, SCARIOKART JANSPORT, SODASTREAM BLUMPUS, SCARFACE JORDACHE, MILLION DOLLAR SQUARTET, SCARTASHA JOMANOFF, SALTLICK JAPANDROIDS, AND, OF COURSE, SCARLET JOHANSON.