Two characters from The Brave One review the movie.

The Brave One seems like a movie whose success isn't terribly dependent on critical acclaim. Chances are, you made up your mind about seeing this one or not the second you finished viewing the trailer. "I want my dog back. Bam!" Am I right?

So we figured we'd do something a little different today. We were lucky enough to land two of the actual characters from The Brave One, Erica Bain (played by Jodie Foster) and Curtis the Dog (played by Riley the Dog). Below they offer personal takes on their movie.

Erica Bain's Review

My life is going along pretty well. I’ve got things in order. I landed this totally hot Indian guy and we’ve got a cool dog named… named… Well, he’s a dog. After work tonight we’re going to take him for a late walk in Central Park once there is no one around. We do these quiet walks through the mysterious tunnels of Central Park nightly. We throw a ball around for Whatshisname to fetch and my hunky future husband can’t wait to tell me how much he wants to make slow passionate love to me. I like to flash back to our lovemaking sessions when horrible things happen to me.

Well, last night’s walk didn’t go great. Now I’m in a coma and my fiancé, the Iraqi guy from Lost, is dead. My life is now a Sarah McLaughlin song. I don’t think the dog made it back, either. What was his name? Rover, Fluffy, Cujo? Something like that. Anyway, I’ve got to get over this. Now I’m scared to go down the street. What can make me feel secure? I know, a gat!

So, I bought a gun from some guy in an alley. Perhaps after my recent ordeal, heading down an alley with a sketchy guy who sells black market firearms isn’t the best plan. Am I stupid person? No, I’m a strong female survivor!

How will I learn to use this thing? Well, I’ll figure that out tomorrow. There’s a convenience store nearby and I’ve got a thirst that only a Sprite can quench.

Oh crap, some dude just came in and blew away the cashier. Dumb f***ing luck. What are the odds this could happen to me again?!? Oh well, time to figure out how this gun works. Pointy side out, right? Bam! Bam! Bam! Crap, got liquor on my jean jacket. Hey, I think he’s dead. This thing ain’t as hard to use as it looks.

Woke up feeling kinda bad about killing that guy last night. Was that a bad thing to do? Am I a bad person? Well, I’ll think about while riding the subway alone at 1AM.

Well crap again, this gun is like those Pringles commercials. Once you pop, you just can't stop! Two hoods just screwed with me and some other passengers and I filled them with lead. You know, I’m getting pretty good with this gun. Firing range, my ass. Killing mofos is the way to learn, corpse by corpse.

What’s amazing is how good I am at not leaving evidence on the scene. CSI couldn’t catch my ass, be it New York, Miami or Vegas, baby!

Hmmm, started thinking about some other things today. Like what am I doing in this movie? Remember Clarice Starling? Sarah Tobias? I used to be into really deep, well-rounded characters. Now I’m just a cliché of a cliché of a cliché. Well, characters in their 40’s, especially female ones, are hard to come by. It’s an ageist, sexist society, but at least I’m still looking bad-ass on a poster.

Just befriended a cop who’s been in better movies as well. He’s young though, and still needs the paychecks. He’s actually searching for this “vigilante” himself. Good luck there, amigo! LOL! I got the fever and the cure is flatlining any punk who screws with me.

Wha! Wha! (arms to the sky)

Jesus, this movie’s terrible. That ending is so obvious and trite. Can we at least throw in another flashback where I do the Lost guy? I mean, come on, what are the odds of me winding up in this many bad scenarios? Am I looking for trouble? Because if so I must have missed that part in the script.

You know what? Don’t see this movie. Really, don’t. You’ll just make it a success and make it impossible for me to turn down the next piece of similar garbage that comes across my desk. I used to be respectable, but that’s heading out the window with every passing Flightplan, Panic Room, Little Man Tate or The Brave One.

Next thing you know, my name on a movie will mean as much as Robert "Hide and Seek" DeNiro or Christopher "Balls of Fury" Walken do now.

 

Curtis the Dog's Review

Every day used to be the same. My mom is this NPR-like radio show host Erica Bain (Jodie Foster) and my dad, this luscious Indian doctor named David (Naveen Andrews). Everyday they come home from work and take me for a walk. I kept telling them that perhaps strolling through deserted, creepy parts of Central Park after dark was a bad idea, but did they listen? Nooooo. I tell them, don't throw that ball for me down a dark tunnel. But did they listen? Nooooo.

And now where did it get us? Dad got beaten to death, mom is a vigilante struggling to hold onto her sanity, and I'm living with the dumb-ass thugs who did it to them. True, I spend most of my day chained to a fence while these corn-row wearing motherf-ers sell drugs and beat their girlfriends, but at least I don't have to watch their marathon humping sessions anymore. They don't even do it doggy style. What's wrong with them?

My mom has started befriending this cop guy (Terrence Howard) between popping a cap in the ass of anyone who looks at her wrong, and she thinks he won’t figure it out. What I'm wondering is, I hear both mom and the cop guy are pretty good actors. So what the hell they're doing in this bomb of a movie? I mean, this movie stinks worse than my crap after I get into the garbage and eat a stack of dirty socks.

What is it with mom, anyhow? Why is she so drawn to these movies about women getting the bajeesus kicked out of them? I mean, at least The Accused was good. She's one heavy bitch (and I mean that in the female dog sense of the word). I'm more of a Nell guy, myself. "Taaaay in the weeeiiind." Makes me want to just lift my leg.

Things aren't that bad a first. Well, they're disjointed--the time is kind of all jacked and whatnot. But by the time mom is getting too close for comfort with some abducted whore from Vegas, that's when this movie really jumped the kibble as far as I was concerned.

It's not her fault, I guess. She's fine. And that cop guy, we all know he's good. The director (Neil Jordan) tries to distract you with lots of fancy shots, but the script--I just want to drop to the ground and roll in it. I don't know what's worse, the storyline or the dialogue, but either way, they should have used it to line my cage and not for the basis of a major motion picture.

And you know, they're trotting it around at all the festivals trying to distract everyone from how bad it is. That's like when mom used to give me a cookie so she could hide one of my toys. I suppose it serves her right, though. I mean, that's what you get for making out with each other and dropping my leash. Keep an eye on your dog, man!

I gotta get a new agent.

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