The End of History

When addressing the new live-action Bratz movie (yes, it exists), it's sorely tempting to passionately rant about the doll/cartoon/random product phenomenon's disgraceful encouragement of materialism, consumer hunger, and premature sexualisation in pre-teen girls, and how thankfully right and left are united in their disgust at the corporate exploitation and development of a hollow, superficial lifestyle that expects girls to put out and shut up, all except for the vultures making money off of this crap and the parents who foolishly buy it for their kids without even considering the connotations thereof.

But this is a film blog, not a platform for moralising, so instead let's just point and laugh at the hapless film 'adaptation' currently enjoying a 9% rating on Rotten Tomatoes, courtesy of a delightfully sane bunch of film critics.

Now, is anyone else astonished that they managed to find an actual human who looked exactly like a Bratz character? Observe the implausible facial contours to be found on the movie poster:



Jeez, they must have combed the country for her. Or are girls actually getting plastic surgery to look like Bratz? If Daddy's given them the standard-issue credit card, then anything's possible.

And the following quotations nicely sum up the critical reaction to this cinematic abomination (starring Jon Voight!). If I had confidence that no-one I email would get the wrong idea, I'd add them as my permanent signature - they slay me.

"Bratz is like being raped by MySpace." - Josh Tyler, Cinema Blend

"This is why the terrorists hate us." - Nathan Rabin, The Onion AV Club

Amen, gentlemen, amen. If you take your children to this film, please reconsider the direction of your lives.

[I realise now that I'm judging the film without having seen it, which is exactly what I deplore about cretins who roar that a film must be banned for reputedly offensive content without seeing frame one. But I like to think that we know enough about the Bratz phenomenon walking down the aisles of our department stores to justifably cast a skeptical eye on this crass product-pimping bit of celluloid. If this actually had some artistic aspirations, or wasn't trying to desperate shoehorn in a moral to the staunchly amoral Bratz ethos ("like, totally talk to some dorks and stuff!"), then maybe it deserves the benefit of the doubt. But I would venture to say it it doesn't. Call me rash.]