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I would say I hate to do this, seeing as how this is Oliver Stone and not another little shit music video director who's blown the right producer for the job, but PHUCK THIS GARBAGE HEAP. Oliver MUST RETIRE NOW.

Kids, I know I can be harsh. Maybe, at times, I've said unkind things about movies that at least deserved a nod to some slightly entertaining cameo or something. But I am not joking when I say that if you pay any kind of currency to see "Alexander," I pity your lack of creativity for not coming up with something else to do with yourself.

If you sit through the whole movie and actually come out with a favorable opinion of it, stop reading my reviews, I don't want you and don't need you, and you cannot possibly agree with anything I'll ever say about anything. If you pay for it, see it, like it, and tell SOMEONE ELSE to go see it, I hope you burn in hell along with Osama Bin Laden and every other sick cretin who makes this life miserable for others with their own opinion. You deserve the worst karma anyone could imagine. I hope your pets die and your children all turn out hideously deformed, then blame your shitty genes once they become teenagers and groan like zombies all night as you try to sleep and escape the nightmare that is your well-deserved life. I put a curse on you if you are sick enough to tell people they should sit through three hours of this inexplicable crap.

Okay, now for the review. "Alexander" is apparently about the life of Alexander the Great. Don't know who that is? Watch the phucking history channel then if you don't care to read, because this movie will only confuse you more.

In Oliver Stone's mighty vision (which, of course, contains some stupid, Native American-ish, acid-trippy eagle flying around like a guardian angel over Alexander (Colin Farrel, in a more unforgivable role than "SWAT" -- in fact, you're better off watching "The Recruit" and "SWAT" back to back than checking this movie out -- no, I am not exaggerating to sound funny)), Alexander is followed around by Jordan Catalano (woops, Jared Leto), his gay lover who could be taken seriously if the film itself weren't so "Batman&Robin" gay to begin with, some other gay guy, another guy who looks disturbingly a lot like a young Art Garfunkle and is portrayed in his older years by a tiresomely recycled Anthony Hopkins (narrating, reminiscent more of "The Grinch" and some PBS special than his younger character), Angelina Jolie (if you don't think the Academy Award winning queen of dark sexiness can be annoying, guess again), and a slew of other prissy morons whose names we are reminded of a million times through incredibly unnatural dialogue, but who really only stand out for five seconds at a time in their execution scenes when Alexander has a random whiny "oh, look at me act, I'm Colin Farrel" tantrum and decides to knock off some friend to overdone TERRIBLE keyboard music (they must have run out of budget when they realized they still needed a score for an epic) that clues us into the fact that we were meant to give a shit about this character dying.

Val Kilmer is around for about a half hour to act like a drunk weirdo (yes, even with the golden-leaves crown and missing eye, this is still a very familiar Val), then it's told through narration that he died. No shocking death scene, nothing. Like every other crucial plot point, it's skimmed over in Hopkins' tired-ass narration. Val returns in an overly-long flashback to... you guessed it. Die. Oh, the suspenseful structure of this script.

One would figure there would be at least one technical redeeming quality here, like, say, cinematography, but NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO. Just about every single shot is annoyingly tight, even in the "sweeping epic scenery" displays (many of which are clogged with video-gamish computer generated "soldiers"), and the battle scenes are so "raw" and hand-held that you literally can't tell who the hell is doing what, much less who the hell is winning. Farrel apparently suffered a broken wrist and broken ribs during the making of this. All that came to mind was, "For what?" They could have had stunt men for every single one of these guys, and all of them could have been black too. No one would notice.

Speaking of race, anyone seen "Team America?" Well, Oliver Stone has. When Alexander goes to Persia, something really amazing happens. Every Persian has been replaced by a pretty white actor with an artificial tan and wig or beard. While it may not be as blatant as Al Joleson in "The Jazz Singer," it certainly does look a hell of a lot like the makeup used to turn those whiteys into evil Indians back in John Ford's "The Searchers." Angry Arabs, put away your body-bombs and get out those picket signs; you have just been given a blaring example of how this country has passed you over. You could have gotten paid to be one of the zillion Persians in "Alexander," but Ollie Stone went with white models who enjoy putting makeup on instead. The costumes and sets are ridiculous, to the point where when Alexander and his "soldiers" walk into the Persian Prince's domain and find a belly-dancing harem that is moving to a beat only the soundtrack can hear, it is seriously as if everyone is about to break out into a musical number. As far as what scenes take place inside, this whole damn movie looks like a high school play.

I would have walked out of this movie on countless occasions, and one thing kept me in my seat: the utter awe of watching what may be the worst movie I have ever seen. I even loved Kevin Costner's "The Postman" for its accidentally comedic value. In the end, "The Postman" is a fine work of art compared to this. While we're at it, I can EASILY say this is the worst film of the year, far worse than "King Arthur" or whatever else you can come up with. No joke here, it is that bad. If you see any good reviews whatsoever on its newspaper advertisement, I tell you now, LOOK WHO WROTE THEM.

The most notable one is Rolling Stones' Peter Travers, well-known as the worst of the well-known movie critics (he likes it if you let him see it for free (he likes everything he sees)). The rest are from smaller publications that are simply trying to get more free screenings for their company by kissing Warner Bros' ass. Don't be fooled.

We all fail here and there in life, my children. Oliver Stone must be forgiven and excused for making this movie, because he's made things like "Platoon." He is an artist, and deserves respect. Nonetheless, his failure must be pointed out here. He failed. This movie is a big, fat, phucking failure. No one shines. There are no winners.

The sensation one gets after seeing this is not that they've been rammed up the ass once again by Hollywood, but that they have voluntarily given the Hollywood machine a long, slow, smelly blowjob for three grueling hours, a blowjob that took place while some obnoxious song that you know will never leave your head now was stuck on repeat on the stereo, the kind of blowjob where, one day, some smell or some random word will remind you of it and make you suddenly feel like a whore all over again, the kind that will make you know that no matter how nice of a family you raise one day and how reputable you become in the community far, far way from the theater you saw "Alexander" in, you still sucked Hollywood disgusting cock for three hours on that one dark day after shelling out money to it like a sucker who thought it was you who was going to get the favor in return. Dirty. A whore. Never clean again. You got to see Rosario Dawson's tits, but in the end, it... it... it wasn't worth it. Why was she... Why was she talking with that terrible Farci accent? Isn't she Puerto Rican? What happened? Why? GOD DAMN IT, WHY?? (crying, throwing things across the room, crying in the shower)

Just don't see "Alexander" unless you're thinking about killing yourself and need some motivation.

(no bongs, this doesn't involve any kind of high, not even shwaggy)

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