‘Die Mommie Die’ Is Not Worth the Time

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When you walk into a movie theater, you do not usually sit down and expect to see the most horrendous movie ever made in the history of Hollywood. Of course, there are films that are less than perfect, but rarely is there a film that is so impeccable in its absurdity that it makes you furious for wasting 90 minutes of your life watching it. And that is exactly what the Mark Rucker film ‘Die Mommie Die’ accomplishes.
‘Die Mommie Die’ attempts to spoof old Hollywood, a time when such legends as Joan Crawford and Vivian Leigh ruled the screen, but instead never becomes anything more than an embarrassment to its actors and director. The film is about Angela Arden (Charles Busch), a once-famous Hollywood actress who is now in danger of being forgotten. Her marriage to producer Sol Sussman (Phillip Baker Hall) has long lost it’s romance so she begins a raunchy affair with former Hollywood boy toy Tony Parker (Jason Priestly). When Sussman finds out about the affair, he forces Angela to stay in the marriage like a prisoner and imposes control over her actions. Sussman’s two children are unsurprisingly unstable, with the daughter, Edith Sussman (Natasha Lyonne), having an incestuous affection for her father and the son, Lance Sussman (Stark Sands), being a homosexual sex addict with an unhealthy infatuation for his mother. Angela gets tired of dealing with her husband’s abuse, so she attempts to kill her husband so she can have her independence and get back in the spotlight. The plot is simply appalling.
The most obnoxious detail about the film is that the main role of Angela Arden is played by a strapping, masculine, robust man named Charles. There is absolutely nothing wrong with a man in drag. But when that man is supposed to play an elegant, aristocratic starlet who is trying to kill her husband, it does not help to have a cleft in your chin.
The dialogue is sometimes so unbearable, audience members are sure to sink down and cringe in their seats for those poor actors. It was terrible to see Jason Priestly, at one point every girl’s dreamboat, be told by Stark Sands that his ‘eleven-inch dong has [his] luggage tags on it.’
In every film, no matter how horrible the thing is, there are at least one or two moments in it that could be appreciated for being the slightest bit funny or touching. But not in this film. It uses a drag queen, a threesome, incest and Jewish jokes as its secret weapons for being funny

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