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Exactly, that one. So you can relate, because this trailer is actually worse than that. Here's the premise as explained by the official movie site: "On the eve of her 13th birthday, all Jenna Rink wants is to be pretty and popular. After a humiliating experience with the coolest kid in school, Jenna makes a desperate wish for a new life. Miraculously her wish comes true, but with one catch... she's only five days away from her 30th birthday." Here clearly is a film with an important moral for the children of today. That moral? "Be careful what you wish for, because you just might wind up in a rip-off of BIG starring Tom Hanks and directed by Penny Marshall." Not as important a lesson as "don't swallow your tongue," to be honest. But still, it's up there. What bothers me is how blatant the theft is here. It's one thing to get your pocket picked; it's another when the thief just asks you if he can "borrow your wallet for a second." It's not as if BIG was made in the 1920's or something, where the only people who'd remember it wear diapers and watch TVs that aren't turned on. It's a color talkie, right? When I saw it in the theater I don't remember anyone tinkling the keys of a Fotoplayer "pianer," anyway— but then again, I was a lot less discerning in the Roaring 80's. I may have missed small details like that, having only begun my tenure as intern in the craft services department of the Trailer Trash offices. I remember the day Colonel Roland Tiberius Pinkerton (current Trailer Trash Editor James Pinkerton's father) called me into his office to offer me my "big" break, a shot at reviewing BIG for the then-fledgling website. And keep in mind there wasn't even a such thing as the internet back then, let alone an internet you had to capitalize and hyphenate. Colonel Pinkerton was so far ahead of his time he would transmit reviews through Morse code on a low end HAM radio bandwidth, which he referred to rather presciently as our inter-truck HAM-site. That's in addition to the deca-monthly 'zine format he published, keep in mind. What a great man he was. He's not dead or anything, mind you. He's just really old and he smells now, so I avoid him. Here's part of my original review of BIG. "... - - .. - ... ...- . .—.— .. .- .- -- .. -.---..-.--- ..— -.--- . ...- . .— .. — -.— .. .- .- --.. .— . . -...-. .. —..- ..- .-. -.--- .. -.--— . . -. .....--. .. —..- ..-...-— . ...- . -...-. .. —.. - ..-— . . -.. .-. .. —..- ..-." That bit at the end still slays me. . . -.. .-. .. —..- ..-., that's priceless.Yessir, even back then I had what they called "it." I still have "it," but "it" seems to be dormant as of late. That Gen-Rx Simplex B Solution really works! Thanks modern medicine! And vaudeville joke structure! Basically, 13 Going On 30 is almost 100% recycled BIG, except with a protagonist who isn't Tom Hanks and doesn't have a penis, Tom Hanks's or otherwise. I suppose you could defend it as an homage. Then again, if you look up the word 'homage' in a thesaurus, none of the synonyms listed are 'brazen theft,' 'lazy hack job,' or 'wet diarrhea.' Colonel Pinkerton used to have a saying about making an inferior version of an existing film: ".- . .—.— .. .- .- -- .. -.---..-.--- ..— -.--- . ...- . .— .. — -.— .. .- .- --.. .— . . -...-. .. —..- ..-" Ah, what a great man he was. The most troublesome aspect of the trailer has got to be the shot where it is revealed how the little girl becomes BIG, if you will. On her 13th birthday, her platonic friend Matt brings her over a packet that is clearly, migraine-inducingly labeled "WISHING DUST." Wishing Dust. One more time for effect….Wishing Dust.
Hushed voices in
a movie theater. The film's target audience is also debatable. Who exactly is this movie targeted toward? If it's directed at today's cap-popping, baby-making, media-saturated, hope-abandoning youth, it's strikes me as a little bit out of touch. Kids nowadays download snuff films and amorous barnyard acts for semi-ironic giggles, and that's while they're in class. I know. I used to sub in a computer room. I still have nightmares from the things I saw on those kids' PC screens. But then I also don't think the almost 40% of American adults living in poverty or middle class poverty are going to be captivated by the grating antics of an over-privileged white girl who finds away to make her problem-free easy life even easier with the power of magical wishes too. Can poor people make wishes too? Let me try it out. Start light, star bright, I wish I may, I wish I might have my unemployment checks extended for three months starting tonight. Did it work? Damn. Well, maybe you can only wish for horrible film clichés to come true. Let's try it out. Start light, star bright, I wish I may, I wish I might…[clearing throat] wake up one day to be really super duper cool so that the coolest boy in school starts liking me which makes me popular and I have all these new friends but then I catch him cheating on me at the big dance or social event of some kind with that slut whose name is almost definitely Brittany or Samantha or Veronica and realize he's a jerk and then all those so-called friends I made because of him desert me and say things like "She went from totally sheik to totally geek." Then I discover that my platonic best friend, who has been dropping signals about as subtly as a pie cannon firing at a mime factory, and who warned me that the cool guy was just using me the whole time to make himself look even cooler, and who still helped me despite his better judgment and after I ignored him while I was popular and called him a dweebazoid or a dorkus or some equally stupid variation of such mean nickmanes, was really the one for me all this time anyway and we hook up at the end, a little bit wiser and a lot happier…tonight. Did it work? Shit, it did. Great. Just great. Not only does my unemployment run out next week, but now I have to turn gay and make out with a high school jock. This sucks… …almost as bad as this trailer. I leave you now with this prayer. Start light Amen. RATING: |
You
know that dream where you're naked in a spotlight on stage while staring
at your own tombstone but somehow you're also running through an endless
tunnel filled with snakes, all of whom have the head of the girl you
lost your virginity to, and you're late for your finals, the SAT's,
and the big game all at once but you can't think straight because you're
getting kicked in the junk by the bully who used to beat you up at the
YMCA summer camp for being fat, except now he's wearing the dress your
mom wore to prom with you, and the only sounds you can hear are your
parents having loud, wet sex to a recording they made of your freshmen
year tuba recital…and a shark is about to eat you? 
At
least BIG had the decency to use an old coin-operated fortune
telling machine as its plot device, which conceivably, though I've never
seen one, exists. Wishing dust probably exists too, possibly as some
sort of impulse purchase item at WalMart check out lines— but there's
something a little more engaging about a mysterious animatronic gypsy
named Zoltar than a paper wrapper filled with sand found one shelf up
from the Necco Wafers next to the Twix. We're
getting a little lazy in our film making if the best we can come up
with to move a script along is wishing dust. I can see how the producers
may have wanted to avoid clichés like a faerie godmother or preserved
monkey paws. But wishing dust? Why not just let the main character open
up a bottle labeled SCRIPT POLISH, cover her shoes with it and tapdance
her way into the next incongruous scene with no further explanation?