After catching A Perfect Getaway earlier this week, my immediate reaction was somewhere between “Dear God, that sucked,” and “Ladies and gentleman, we have 2009’s equivalent to last year’s The Happening.” Brutal and eviscerating thoughts. That initial venom has subsided a bit in the viewing’s wake, mostly due to the euphoria experienced while seeing Inglourious Basterds 24 hours later; that one lived up to my expectations well enough to forgive A Perfect Getaway. Like the way you can look past a girlfriend’s incessant nagging after winning the lottery (not that I can relate, but I’m sure it’s blissful).
A pardon can only go so far, though. A Perfect Getaway, regardless of what Quentin Tarantino is/was able to do, is still a bad film on many levels, most irritatingly because it could’ve been something sharper. I’ve given the film a closer look over at Critics Notebook; check it, would ya?