Espresso Italiano Presents: Clarette's: Presents: Burn After Feeding: Chevre; Yes, It Is a Goat Cheese: George Clooney eats 45 different types of Food and John Malkovich Says 45 Different Types of F**k: the Lengths We'll Go For Love and Plastic Surgery: a Documentary of One Year of the Lives of George Pitt and Brad Clooney: a Comprehensive Review of Burn After Reading
Aren't we all simply wasting, watching Family Feud in the kitchen in a robe pouring a little cognac back into the bottle because we want a quad and not a quintuple? Was it our born identity? No.
Was it OSbourne identity? We are all Osbourne, my friend.
Osbourne who? You ask. Well.
What do you get when you pour Francis McDormand, a few shakes of infidelity, profane Russian conspiracies and Tilda Swinton's accent into a glass? A coldbrew coffee cocktail even Malkovich couldn't sweeten. Sprinkle in both George Clooney and Brad Pitt simultaneously realizing their careers and indeed their selves are eternal punchlines, deciding to do a movie together and trying to prove they were aware of it the whole time, and you've got yourself a Molotov.
I'm sorry for calling at such an hour, but I thought you might be worried... about the security... of your heart.
Yes. THIS is Osbourne Cox!
Francis McDormand plays ball like Shoeless Joe, but this Black Sox gamble needs some Pitt Stevia to sweeten the pot. There's a rush for money and a rush for love, and McDormand steals home as Clooney winds up for the suicide squeeze. Pitt gets murdered, and she trips halfway to home...
They might as well have called her BrumTilda, because this damsel's performance should be locked up and guarded by a dragon. We've all had French Toast, but have we ever tried French Ghost? Ooh la la.
Osbourne's memoir, chocked to the lid with juicy secrets from his days in the CIA, is found by Pitt, whose character's name is entirely forgettable because we are now seeing Brad in his truest human form.
Blackmail is a tough game, as we all know, and Mr. Black (as Pitt goes by when dealing with Osbourne Cox) comes through like the charcoal shower of oily pour over drops we wait for every morning. Cappucinyes, I'll take a carrier tray, because this expert portrayal is staying with me for a long time.
There's no coffee breaks with this cast, as the laughs are a mile a minute and Burn After Reading is 135 minutes long, meaning we've got 135 miles of laughs before we realize Malkovich and crew have a little left in the tank: the bloopers at the end of the movie are not only heartwarming, they're heartburning.
If Clooney cloned a clove, would Pitt pitch a pitt? It's an upTill battle to answer this riddle, and Franckly, my dear, I don't give a damn! Here's lookin' at you, Pitt, you've Bradley even gotten started, but a comedy career could work, isn't it pretty to think so? George, George, George of the jungle, indeed! We've got a bombshell here, folks, and though there's about eight people who could potentially defuse it, it looks as though this is the road less traveled. We're not sure if we could even any longer deal with these... people... but if there's one thing I do know, it's that this red-rocket of a tour-de-force is the car I've always wanted... and I rule! Burn After Reading will drink your milkshake, and when it's done with you, oh will it ever be calling out to the butler: “I'm FINISHED!”
We've got some slaps, some craps, and even some chaps. There's a dildo seat that only requires some rockin' my friend, and you sway into it with ease... Burn After Reading is a story of espionage, but more than anything, it is a story of ESPY homage; how many athletes can we squeeze into one gym? Only one way to find out: I'll take a double-tall—classic, yet rich every time.
What the f**k? Asks Malkovich. Need we say more? More like, need we say mocha!