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MOVIE-TIME CONSTIPATION Burp!....I mean, BUR-R-R-R-R-P!!!....(Ah! That's better)....What a relief! I am truly sorry about that bit of belching there, movie-fans, but it seems that after watching NAKED LUNCH I've somehow got a bit of the old 'post-movie indigestion' gurgling away inside of me. It sure doesn't surprise me at all that this has happened. Belching just seems to go along perfectly with this brand of flatulent-entertainment. I mean, NAKED LUNCH is definitely the kind of flick that'll get most 'thinking' people either burping, or farting, or, most likely, doing both at the same time, long before the picture is even over the rainbow. I'm not kidding. NAKED LUNCH is gastronomical! It's when you stop to consider that one of the main characters in NAKED LUNCH is in actuality a 'talking' SPHINCTER (it's true), that this will excuse any foul response to this poor-excuse-of-a-movie, without any apologies required. I have to say, though, that it was actually really comical at times when this babbling Butt-hole and Bill (PETER WELLER) were engaged in one of their many screwy conversations, or whatever. I mean, what, in the hell, are you supposed to say to a Sphincter? Go ahead, try talking to your own sometime and see what kind of a response you inevitably get from it. It did kind of strike me ironically that, here in NAKED LUNCH, it just happened to be this extremely vocal Arsehole who was calling all the shots with Bill, ordering him around, and telling him to do this and that. Yeah, irony-of-ironies, Bill, a grown man, is being bossed and bullied around by, of all things, Sir Admiral Anus . It's, naturally, all fun and games at first, but, typically, as novelties often go, this gabbing, little Corn-hole gets to be a total pain-in the-butt (literally) after a short while. It took (of all the lopsided-minds in this world) the most wacked-out one of them all, Director, DAVID CRONENBERG, to bring NAKED LUNCH to the big screen. Any idiot with half a brain in his head could have told this nut (which I'm sure they did) that the WILLIAM BURROUGHS' novel of the same name was impossible to film. But, CRONENBERG, believing himself to be creating the work of a genius from the work of another genius forged ahead like a real, little trooper and produced an utterly awful film. Bravo, CRONENBERG! You can have your NAKED LUNCH, and eat it, too. I won't even try to outline the ludicrous plot of NAKED LUNCH, 'cause, let's face it, there ain't one. In that way it's exactly like the BURROUGHS' novel. Right from the start NAKED LUNCH is absolutely nonsensical to the nth degree. The story runs off in so many different tangents, seemingly all at once, that it will make your poor, little head spin-spin-spin. I'd confidently say that you'd probably have more luck getting a clear story just talking to your own sphincter, rather than try to piece the rectal-mess of NAKED LUNCH together. So, as I suggest, leave all your worldly troubles behind you and come on down to the BREAKFAST CLUB where they're serving a scrumptious NAKED LUNCH for your LAST SUPPER. email this review to a friend
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