It’s here! The day has FINALLY come! Nearly a year since they started screening it for the press, and after months of me breathlessly waiting to see how they would recut and/or market the gosh-darned thing, Gore “My Film is Considerably Less Fun than a Frickin’ Disneyland Ride that was Built in 1955” Verbinski’s The Weather Man arrives in theaters. I really don’t have much to say about the lopsided thing, except that it’s not really deserving of much more than a general smirk. But just in case they took one year to release it to figure out how to deal with the “Camel-Toe” problem, I feel like the public should know…What I refer to is when Michael Caine’s angrily teeth-gritting (natch), poorly American-accented (natch), old (natch) father to Nicolas Cage (huh?) disapproves of his fat granddaughter’s wardrobe. “Do you know what they call her at school?” he scowls to Cage’s downtrodden dad: “Camel-Toe!”
Cue a succession of shots…a montage if you will….of close-ups of young girls’ crotches. Presumably to instruct us in the pleasures and problems of “Camel-Toes.” Now, everyone likes a randy little tangent, but the daughter in question, guys, is….twelve? 13 at the oldest. So all I’m sayin’ is, should the infamous (only in my mind and maybe the 3 other people in the screening with me on that crisp autumn 2004 afternoon…except Peter Travers probably) “Camel-Toe scene” be excised, remember it well, folks. Men make movies. They do, indeed.