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June 1, 2006 The Wayanses! (Or, Why The Wayans Brothers Should Eat Shit… and Probably Die, Too)Hollywood’s forgotten family. Take the Baldwin brothers, throw on some black paint, take away the small talent, and what do you got? The Wayanses! Not sure how many there are, but regardless it is too many. How in the world did these clowns manage to get a TV show to air, let alone for 5 whole seasons? The blame is on Keenan, for after creating In Living Color (hey, even Michael Bay gets it right once in awhile), if your last name was Wayans, you found work. But they must suck a mean dick for studios finance their shit-ass movies at a relentless level, which are so unbelievably dumb, their main demographic should be the deaf. Or should it be the blind? I don’t know what is worse, seeing their ugly mugs on the big screen or listening to their horribly annoying and whiny voices. They may not be Gilbert Gottfried, no wait, I actually like Gilbert Gottfried better. Classics film entries like The Sixth Man, Senseless, Dungeons and Dragons, White Chicks, Blankman, Mo’ Money, Major Payne, Earth Girls Are Easy—the list goes on and on. They managed to run The Wayans Brothers TV show for over 5 seasons, which entailed a mind boggling 40 writers. Either no one wanted the job or they all got drunk and started banging on typewriters. Friends, which aired for a decade didn’t even have half that many writers. But The Wayans Brothers was on the WB, the Alan Smithee of television networks. And I’m not sure what ABC was thinking when they let My Wife and Kids air for four seasons, before thankfully axing the show last year. We live in a sad society where shows like Arrested Development, Deadwood, and even Family Guy (DVD sales brought Family Guy back from the dead) meet premature demises, yet The Wayans Brothers aired longer than any of them. But somehow, coked out studio execs keep letting these bums work. Homey the Clown is set for a release in 2007. This character’s shelf life of humor was about as long as the cha-ching commercial, so yeah, for about five minutes back in 1989. Audiences of any common sense or intelligence above an ant level don’t want to see crap like this. They also have The Munsters in the works, which I’m sure will be butchered and bastardized, much like the films Guess Who? and The Honeymooners, all of classic descent. Now there is the most recent atrocity, Little Man, which is released this July. This is the latest from the brilliant Kennan Ivory Wayans, who sold his soul to the devil to make White Chicks. I’d like someone to hit you with a baseball bat, Keenan. After watching this ungodly terrible trailer that announces ‘from the writers of white chicks’, I then realized how talentless the Wayans brothers are. IMDb summarizes this piece of garbage as a wannabe dad (Shawn Wayans) mistakes a vertically challenged criminal on the lam (Marlon Wayans) as his newly adopted son. Marlon’s face has been CGI’D onto a the body of a CGI’D baby. This is destined to become a top 10 entry to IMDb’s bottom 100, as well as solid entry to the white elephant game played at Christmas time. I would like to have a cup of coffee with the person that green-lit this idea, and then kindly run them over and over again with my car. But really, can I blame you? That is the question. You all have made a career on creating and starring in so many horrible films, you’ve given the WB movies of the week for years to come. I mean, I guess you sort of are inspirational. You give hope to the many wanting to go into the film business. A squirrel does find a nut every once in a while. Maybe Darren Aronofsky was on heroin himself when casting Requiem for a Dream, because someone let Marlon sneak on the set and land a role in the film. Screaming loudly and acting like a drug addict boded quite well for Marlon. It really can’t be that hard, just ask Robert Downey, Jr. It must be sad to be Marlon Wayans, especially when your claim to fame is Don’t Be a Menace to South Central While Drinking Your Juice in the Hood. Your films should be a library for those contemplating suicide. Because after watching, you realize that cutting your wrist isn’t the answer. I mean these guys haven’t cut theirs, and probably have every reason too. They are still taking part in crappy films. So although I started off this topic with eat shit and die, maybe I should change that to fat thank you. Thanks for making me realize that no matter how untalented I might think I am, I can always say, at least I’m not a Wayans brother. Oh, before Igo, don’t forget to check out my other hidey hole here on the web—http://filmmonthlyblog.blogspot.com/ Clint Fletcher is a screenwriter and filmmaker in search of Hollywood. Read Tony Liccardello’s Rant on M. Night Shyamalan Hate. Got a problem? E-mail us at filmmonthly@gmail.com |