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John (Brad) and Jane (Angelina) Smith are really boring, living in the suburbs and adding peas to the dinner repertoire as a means of shaking things up. But, after five or so years of stale marriage, things change as John and Jane - - both hired assassins - - discover their true identities and set out to kill each other. That’s where the fun begins. That’s where the sexy fun begins!!
Mr. and Mrs. Smith has a bit of Butch Cassidy and the Sundance Kid (1969), Out of Sight (1998), and His Girl Friday (1940). Of course, as in most action movies, the storyline is preposterous, but action movies are not designed to be thought-provoking. They are supposed to excite us and Mr. and Mrs. Smith does that very well. It’s an explosive, laugh-out-loud, witty, incredibly sexy piece of entertainment.
It is irrelevant to me whether Brad and Angelina are involved off-screen. But, on screen – Wow! There was major chemistry between them that I have not seen in a very long time. These two set the screen, as well as a house, and a few other things on fire. As for the requisite features, there are lots of awesome shooting scenes (sans the gore) and some very nice explosions. Most hilarious is that in the midst of all the gunfire and knife throwing, the couple tries to figure out if they have a relationship worth saving. For the final touches, director Doug Liman added in a great chase scene (in a mini-van), the wise-cracking Eddie (Vince), and a multitude of beautiful female assassins including Kerry Washington from Ray and Stephanie March from Law & Order: SVU.
To get the most out of this, put aside the editing glitches and slow spot, and please ignore the fact that Brad doesn’t appear to be able to dance very well for these are minor incidents that shouldn’t detract from the enjoyment. It’s quite a delightful ride that just makes you feel like smiling.
When I left the theater I was walking at a brisker pace than usual: partly because I was still on the Smith rush, but mainly I wanted to beat the looming dark clouds. But, I wasn’t fast enough and got caught in a downpour. Picture this: denim jeans and a white tee-shirt. Within two minutes I was completely drenched. Yet, oddly enough, instead of running for cover I kept right on walking and I was walking with a swagger. In retrospect, I probably looked pretty ridiculous with my clothes and hair stuck to me, but I felt sexy as hell and I strutted in an oh-so-sexy manner all the way home. Now, that’s what I call a fun movie. |