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Blood Work, a Review
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Blood work

I'm of the mind that there are two types of men in the world, and they can be divided thus: "John Wayne Guys" and "Clint Eastwood Guys." John Wayne Guys like their heroes shining and good, truthful and full of righteous power. In their films, the bad guys are really bad, and the good guys stand tall and kick ass. Clint Eastwood Guys know that there are very few real heroes -- most "heroes" are just guys, who are pushed to the point that they commit great acts, sometimes for good, and sometimes for bad. Clint Eastwood Guys know that there are no showers in the wild west, that you engage in witty banter only after you shoot someone, and that a steely glance, three days of stubble, and a battered, well-used six-shooter are way more intimidating than a white hat and a shiny, pearl-handled Colt.

I'm a Clint Eastwood Guy. I love all of his westerns, from Fist Full of Dollars to the Unforgiven. I love the Dirty Harry movies. I even like the "Any Which Way" flicks and Pink Cadillac. I truly enjoyed A Perfect World, and I forgave Bridges of Madison County. But Space Cowboys? And now this? Clint -- what the hell is going on?!

I simply could not stomach Blood Work. It starts out promising (if hackneyed), but turns south real fast. I won't even go into the story -- it's not worth it. Here's how I'll lay it out: Paul Rodriguez is the wisecracking cop. Clint is a retired serial killer profiler with a heart transplant. Jeff Daniels is a goofy boat-bum sidekick. They're all trying to track down a killer Clint almost caught right before his heart attack. Oh, and Clint has sex with a marginally attractive chick. Surprisingly, it's even worse than it sounds.

Technically, I shouldn't even be writing this review, since I didn't see the whole movie. That's right -- I tried to force myself to stay awake, but I fell asleep for the last 10 minutes of the movie. This thing is supposed to be a thriller, and I fell asleep in the LAST TEN MINUTES! It didn't matter -- I knew who the killer was 20 minutes in, and I didn't care anyway. Normally, even if I don't like a pic, if I miss the ending due to a boredom-induced nap, I'll pop the DVD back in and catch the last 10 minutes, just to see how it ends.

In this case, I really, really just don't care enough to open the DVD case and push play. That's the thesis of my review -- this movie is not worth the calories it takes to pick up the remote and push play.

end of essay
David Nett Portrait David is an actor, writer and producer in Los Angeles. He's the founder and editor-in-chief of CSP, and a founding producer of the acclaimed Lucid by Proxy theater company. Despite all this, he still has to hold down a day job in the dot-com world, where he does product and interaction design. His acting has been called "committed," "detailed," "fearless," "hilarious" and "heart-rending" by the LA Times and Backstage West. His writing has been called "articulate and commanding" and "eminently readable" by Flak Magazine. His tenth grade Geometry teacher said he "does not work well in groups." | more essays by David
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