Wednesday, August 22, 2007

DiCaprio gets Gore-y in I.T.2: The Enmeltening

Thank God!! Another stud-starring Global Warming flick for everybody who either hasn’t worked it out yet or wants to relive the thrills of first grasping basic science. The most necessary sequel since When Harry Left Sally, Honey, I Punk’d The Kids, or Rocky VII - Balboa v Oatmeal.

I am so excited about 11th Hour, and so certain that it will bring all of industrialized humanity to the tipping point of a complete social revolution that I HAD to review it even though I’m yet to miss it.

11th Hour, the DiCaprimentary: a sizzling romance between Leo and the lens, a stormy conflict between wealthy white people and every single thing in the living universe. DiCaprio goes undercover, deep cover, working his way to the top of the carbon emission pyramid. After 6 months posing as Exxon CEO Wayne Kerr, DiCaprio uncovers an evil plot to cash in on climate change related fear, ignorance and apathy, without actually changing anything.

There’s a wonderful scene where he dons angel wings in an effort to convince Richard Branson that there’s a better way to fly. But he realizes that he’s been duped when Branson swaps him 100 carbon credits for his chain mail armor, leaving him exposed to sniping from an opportunistic nuclear lobby, still bitter over the public relations disaster that happens when an earthquake dates a Japanese waste storage facility.

He spends half an hour playing basketball and shooting dope with scientists who convince him that climate change is an evil conspiracy by a Weather Channel desperate to make money. DiCaprio realizes that they’re just ex-tobacco lobbyists in white coats and taking huge amounts of cash and Aboriginal land from masochistic wildlife and friends of John Howard when he spies the Terry Irwin Crocodile Hunter little khaki shirts and shorts with swastikas sewn on the back underneath their Alcoa-sponsored lab coats.

I particularly love the bit at the end where Leonardo and the stratosphere plummet from the bow of the ship as it tips upright in the tropical North Atlantic. At the end, as he’s floating toward the horizon atop a refrigerator casing with the last tree in the world, a polar bear that is famished from swimming thousands of miles looking for a cameraman beats him about the face with a Coca Cola sponsorship before eating his guts and drying out his hide to form a canoe. The whole cinema cheered when Marky Mark busted a cap in the bear before celebrating by making hardcore porn with Burt Reynolds, Dick Chain Knees, and George Double Your Bush. Boogie!

Edge of the seat stuff. And with a compere supremely qualified to discuss climatology. Far moreso than those stupid scientists. If celebrities had made more movies about climate change 3 decades ago when it was first thought to be happening, instead of leaving it to these ditzy scientists… well, I just think somebody could have made a whole lot more money out of doing nothing about it way before now.

Makes me want to change a light bulb and buy a Prius. Questioning consumerism as a raison d’etre is so passe.

And remember kids, "Consumption: it’s old school for T.B."