What Women Want is the epitome of Mel Gibson's acting style. Every film this dork craps all over...stars in, sorry...features him in a role identical to every other he has played in his life. He stars as a bumbling, charming oaf that is just so clumsy that it's darn well loveable isn't it? Well, it seriously makes me want to shit my pants so I can throw my fecal matter at the television in disgust. The way in which he mumbles and stutters his way through every line in an accidental fashion is absolutely infuriating.
I urge you to count the amount of times in this film that Mel Gibson stutters during a sentence or doesn't finish it....by the time you reach 231, you'll feel a desire to attempt suicide. In fact, in Canada, the number of people who watched this film and commited suicide during or after eventually rose to 42, before government officials had to ban the film completely. Probably.
I've witnessed some suck-ass films in my time. I've sat and wept with boredom through Bridget Jones' Stupid Sucky Diary, which sucked to a magnificent extent. I've left many a film thinking..."that sucked badly!" But I never knew that something could suck so much as What Women Wants sucks. If suck could suck, then this pile of suck would be sucking the suckiest amount of suck I've ever sucking seen!
So, I've decided that I should improve What Women Want for you. Because that's the type of awesome person I am....and because the end was sentimental shite. Mel and Helen (Hunt) get it on, even though she has just discovered that Mel has been cheating her out of career opportunities. Evidently, he had been stealing her ideas through reading her mind. I cannot confirm this however as I was asleep during most of it. So here is a new and improved ending for What Women Want. Enjoy!
Mel: And that's about it really - all I can say is that I'm sorry...
Helen: That cool nigga. No sweat.
Mel: Cool.
Helen: That the funky shit I'm talking about, brudda.
Mel: I'll be off then...
Helen: Yeah, you better get back to that whiney-ass, diaper-soiling piece of shit that you call a daughter. Brother, that mofo dudette fuckin' sound like Chuckie from da fuckin' Rugrats n' shit, nigga.
Mel: Yeah. Ha ha ha. Anyway, good night.
(Mel turns and heads for the door. Helen slides up the sleeve of her top to reveal a swastika tattoo. She kisses this and proceeds to produce a flamethrower from between her heavenly ass cheeks).
Helen: Shit, nigga! You have to be motherfuckin' trippin' and shit if you thought I was gonna let a dude pull that shit on me. Motherfucker, you had this comin!
(Helen frazzles Mel until he is a smoking pile of ash on the floor)
Helen: I'll be back........motherfucker.
(Helen jumps out of the open window, somersaulting into the open sunroof of a pimped up shaggin' wagon getaway ride that sits patiently waiting for her arrival. A black gangsta revs the engine before Helen and her driver speed off into the distance, maniacally laughing).
