The Ministry of Whatever: Another Stupid History Snore-Fest
Reviewed by Emmy Mulligan for TheHumbleHeckler.com
(Editor’s note: Guest critic Emmy Mulligan is an entitled teenager. Keep this in mind when reading the following review.)
What is it with all these totally lame movies about history? First I had to sit through the movie about the guy who made a super-big bomb thingy. Then I had to endure that super-long movie about that short French military guy. So I shouldn’t be surprised that I’d have to waste a whole afternoon on a new movie about that chubby English prime minister guy who enlists a bunch of other people to totally make the Nazis crash their submarines or whatever. WTF? I mean, come on, man. Movies aren’t for learning stuff. At least, the good ones aren’t.
I just don’t understand why these movies keep happening. I mean, World War II ended, like, twenty years ago. Time to turn the page, people. Anyhow, the worst thing about this film was seeing it alone. My BFF Becca was supposed to come with me, but she totally bailed to hang out with Greg Dawson, which is, like, mind-bottling because he doesn’t even have a car. Whatever! Hope you enjoyed your afternoon stroll, Becca. It may have cost you your best friend.
At least the movie stars that hot guy who played Superman. I think his name is Henry Anvil. Doesn’t matter—I’m not Googling it. It also has that other smokin’-hot muscly dude from that show Reacher (haven’t seen it, not gonna watch it). And I’ve been told that the director is someone I should know. His last name is Ritchie, but that’s all I know about this guy. In fact, I’m just gonna refer to him as that Ritchie guy because, again, I’m not Googling the guy’s first name. I mean, if the guy had an interesting first name, I’m sure I would’ve remembered it, but clearly this Ritchie guy is totally lacking a memorable first name. So I’m done talking about the guy.
To be fair, the movie isn’t a total waste. There were at least three different times when the movie got loud and exciting enough for me to look up from my phone. But overall I didn’t enjoy my time with The Ministry of Something About War or Something. For one, it was way too long. I could tell my butt was getting super numb from all the sitting. Two, my Diet Coke was, like, nine dollars or something. Number three, the hot dudes weren’t shirtless enough. And, lastly, it’s super gross. There’s, like, tons of explosions and killings and whatnot. No kidding. There were times when the gore got so heavy I totally thought I was gonna yark or something.
So … I’m sorry, but I can’t give The Ministers’ Gentlemanly War a recommendation. The hairstyles were so yesterday, the clothes were totally lacking personality, and there wasn’t one single recognizable pop song. Maybe if these war films spent a little more time being fun and colorful, I wouldn’t have to crap all over them. Here’s some free advice to directors making war movies: A little Beyonce goes a long way.
Verdict: I’m giving The War Gentlemen’s Minister one manicured hand out of five and a bloody middle finger for wasting my time. (The Unministerly War Gentlemen is rated R for, like, super-disgusting war scenes, expensive soda, offensive fashion choices, yark-worthy close-ups of wounds, and for creating a rift between me and Becca. Oh, and adult situations.)
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