07-11-2008
I feel sorry for Sam Rockwell. He's one of those 'character' actors who 'bobs' up in ensemble pieces, and HBO skin flicks, and occasionally gets a bone thrown his way by the likes of Drew Barrymore and George Clooney.
But since Barrymore and Clooney are talentless attention whores, mooning over an actor whose skill they can never truly appreciate because they lack the perspective to grasp the level of difficultly involved, their patronage only serves to extend his little-known moniker to mainstream movie-goers like a juicy steak covered in shit juice on a Lord of the Rings Series One Collector's Plate with gold leaf trim extracted from one of MC Hammer's smelted toilet seats.
Barrymore can't act, Clooney can't direct (or act). It's like asking Angelina Jolie to take off the strap-on and have a real orgasm. Tabloids love these ditzy, jowelly, bobble-headed, Old Hollywood wannabes, but they bomb at the box office. Leatherheads? Stop it, George. Just. Stop it. You can't direct--you really, really can't.
Clark Gregg is not David Fincher. Coke (2008) won't do for Rockwell whatever Fight Club (1999) did for Ed Norton (not much).
Why couldn't some real director with clout have taken Rockwell under their wing? Like hot tub honey-dipper Roman Polanski and his leading man Adrien Brody in The Pianist (2002). Similar level of talent, look, age, body type. Is Brody just trying harder? I mean, Rockwell's like.... FIFTY now. Something like that. Anyway, he's old. Not Harrison Ford old, mind you, but OLD... old. Is he just lazy or something? Did he piss off the wrong casting agent?
Maybe he's like William H. Macy, who reminds me of Guy Pearce in Memento (2000), only his tattoos say things like, "Don't eat the sticker on the fruit" and "Your SSN is..."
Blah, blah, blah...
In conclusion:
WE WANT TO SEE YOU TRY HARDER, SAM ROCKWELL
Stop being a lazy bastard.
