Die, Mommie, Die!

Tonight was another movie night with a friend. Jackie (aka my "fag hag," which we use as a term of love and affection, even though I know some use it pejoratively) and I had wanted to see Die, Mommie, Die! for quite some time, so we rented it from Blockbuster (they got rid of late fees, BTW, though they've hardly advertised the fact *hehehehe*). If you've never heard of it, DMD is a humorous homage (not quite a parody) of those melodramatic "women's pictures" of the 30s-60s. You know, the kind with Bette Davis or Joan Crawford as the murdering wife or something. Anyway, it was originally a stage play written by and starring a man by the name of Charles Busch, a famous and fabulous drag queen. It's pure camp. I was disappointed, though. It wasn't as over the top or wacky as I expected, nor was it as funny. It was entertaining, but just not as marvelous as I'd anticipated.

First Harold and Kumar and now Die, Mommie, Die! disappoint. I guess I just get my hopes up too high! Either that or I just suck at picking movies to rent.