Comfortable and Furious


A return to the Shithouse? Can you describe the experience?

7 minutes in — bored; 11 minutes in — still bored; 26 minutes in — bored out of my fucking mind; 29 minutes in through 55 minutes in — went to 7-11 for a coffee; 87 minutes in — nude, unconscious, and covered in boils.

And why Elektra? Don’t you hate comic books?

With the white-hot intensity of a thousand suns, dear reader, but how could I resist Jennifer Garner as a scrotum-kicking assassin? Still, I’m not sure even the basement-dwelling nerds would embrace this one, at least if they’re concerned with plot, character, action, or coherence. Which they rarely are, of course.

An assassin? Sounds dangerous — even sexy.

Neither, I’m afraid, although one victim exclaims, “They say Elektra whispers in your ear before she kills you,” which is a little sexy. But Garner insists on a humorless pout the entire time, which only calls attention to her bizarre lips, which contain more collagen than an entire army of Cher and Melanie Griffith clones.

Why was Elektra stabbing ninjas in the rain? And in slow motion no less?

For the same reason that the ninjas disappear in a cloud of green smoke after having their necks broken or pierced with knives — because it makes absolutely no fucking sense whatsoever. She moves to a home by a lake to collect her thoughts, meets a widower and his daughter, quickly learns that she’s been assigned to kill them, changes her mind, and is soon engulfed by several thousand Asians in their pajamas. If we were meant to understand, it wouldn’t be a comic book.

What’s this “Council of the Hand” I keep hearing so much about?

As far as I can tell, the group consists of at least two dozen Asians with tattoos who meet in a great hall and speak in hushed tones about “the treasure.” That, and they’re shape shifting, murderous thugs who want Elektra dead. Who doesn’t?

Wait! Wasn’t that a hot Asian chick making out with Elektra?

No, just transferring evil through her devilishly red lips. In other words, put your cocks away, young geeks.

Dude, what’s with all of Elektra’s nightmares?

Elektra is haunted by a past no audience member is meant to understand, except to learn that all of her memories concerning her father revolve around boot camp-style swimming lessons. Oh, and that demon from the Dio album covers apparently murdered her mother.

When did Terence Stamp stop resembling General Zod and start looking like Warren Harding?

Around the time of My Boss’s Daughter I believe, although it only became obvious here. At least he kept his ass cheeks under wraps, thank fuck.

So does she fall for the widower, or butcher him as planned?

They share a kiss, which inspires her to whisper, “I’m not a person to get involved with.” I’m tempted to say that was the worst line of all, but her arch-enemy actually says “Brave girl; you taught her well” when the widower’s daughter appears out of nowhere with arms and legs flailing. Sorry, the 13-year-old does not get naked.

Anything else you can leave me with, like sweat-filled anal following a pulse-pounding gun battle?

There are some cheesy CGI beasts — snakes, spiders, wolves, and birds. There’s also a massive black guy who brushes buckshot off his chest like lint. I also liked the scene where Elektra turns one knob on the stove and within seconds, blows up an entire 10,000 square foot house. Oh, and there was that late night exercise montage, which had far less erotic appeal than any random ten seconds of Rocky III. And I’m still trying to figure out why the film cut sharply from Elektra obsessively arranging fruit to her jumping in a lake. And no, the bitch never lightened up.

Lessons learned?

Asian broads with long fingernails are either whores, opium addicts, or kung fu warriors who love killing children. Never trust anyone who maintains a 5 o’clock shadow for weeks at a time. In terms of delivery and range, Jennifer Garner is the new Charles Bronson. And never, ever eat a Filet o’ Fish before 11:30 in the morning.