Louis tells them that the big boss Mr. Starkman wants a meeting. We go to Starkman's impressive home where we are puzzled to see Al Pacino in this cinematic turd. Actually, Pacino won his best actor Oscar in a Martin Brest film, so I guess he felt compelled to return the favor. Since his character seems to possess a brain, Pacino is angry with Louis for having concocted the stupid kidnapping scheme in the first place and shoots him. Finally, something actually happened in this film! Come on, Al, keep going... one down, two to go. Pacino shouts, "I have no compunctions!" which goes without saying since he appears in this movie.
We now hope Pacino does a Tony Montana re-enactment and splatters Ben's and Jen's brains. Unfortunately JLO, despite having fulfilled her pathetically forced speech quota earlier, delivers a second helping of it here. Can she say anything without it turning into a speech? We may never know the answer. She goes on about it wasn't their fault, yada, yada, it doesn't matter because it wouldn't make any sense to allow them to live. She and Ben, who probably have criminal records and with whom the police are familiar, just watched Pacino murder someone. However, since logic was not invited to appear in this film, Pacino allows Ben and JLO to leave.
Our leads drive down the coast with Brian; Ben bonds with him in more insightful, heartfelt exchanges that I leave to your imagination. Brian thinks he sees something that passes well enough as "the Baywatch", so Ben and JLO set him free there, amongst a crowd of dancing beachgoers being filmed. Ben leaves an anonymous tip with the FBI as to Brian's whereabouts. I guess Brian will be fine wandering a beach by himself in the meantime. JLO drives away only to come back and pickup sorrowful-looking Ben, the mobster who is once again crying like a little bitch. Why she returned to pick him up I don't know and don't care because my 121 minutes of hell has finally ended and now I feel whole once more, in a way similar to that euphoric, subtly-electric feeling in the forehead and temples when a migraine has at last dissipated.
Our leads drive down the coast with Brian; Ben bonds with him in more insightful, heartfelt exchanges that I leave to your imagination. Brian thinks he sees something that passes well enough as "the Baywatch", so Ben and JLO set him free there, amongst a crowd of dancing beachgoers being filmed. Ben leaves an anonymous tip with the FBI as to Brian's whereabouts. I guess Brian will be fine wandering a beach by himself in the meantime. JLO drives away only to come back and pickup sorrowful-looking Ben, the mobster who is once again crying like a little bitch. Why she returned to pick him up I don't know and don't care because my 121 minutes of hell has finally ended and now I feel whole once more, in a way similar to that euphoric, subtly-electric feeling in the forehead and temples when a migraine has at last dissipated.
If I had not known before viewing this movie that Martin Brest wrote and directed it, I would have thought it to be the work of some novice writer/director who was related to someone in a high Hollywood place. Martin Brest, however, did write this legendary bomb, which makes this disaster rather inexplicable. True, he did direct the massive snore known as Meet Joe Black, but he has worked on decently written hits for the most part in his sparse career. Among Brest's previous work was Scent of a Woman, which received multiple Oscar nominations, including for Best Picture and gave Pacino the role for which he finally won his best actor award. He also directed the entertaining Midnight Run and the megahit Beverly Hills Cop. Then again, those films weren't horribly miscast in the persona once known as Bennifer.
The combination of Ben Affleck trying to act like a streetwise toughguy and JLO with her increasingly tiresome speechifying shtick was by no means any recipe for success. In addition, this turd of a film wasn't helped by wave after wave of non-news about Ben and Jen's relationship at the time of release, where pretty much C-SPAN was the only place to turn for Bennifer-free programming. Audiences responded, as according to the IMDB it broke a record at the time with an 81.9% second week box-office drop, not that it made much money the first week. This $54 million disaster wound up making $6 million domestically. Gigli would not go empty-handed at awards time, though; it became the first film to score a grand slam at the Razzie Awards, sweeping the Worst Picture, Actor, Actress, Director and Screenplay categories. Riding on the heels of this shattering success, Ben moved on to do another turkey (Surviving Christmas) and JLO went on to do more sermonizing in less-idiotic but typically mediocre films.
Something thats actually funny about Gigli:
The inside of the DVD case has an anti-theft tag.
