Hollow Man Revisited
Hollow Man

By Neckbone
8/27/2001

Most of us have experienced those times, after a long day at work, when you come home only to discover some sort of foul odor of unknown origin lingering about the place. It doesn't take a whole lot of brain power to figure out what to do next. Find odor. Get rid of odor. Bespatter house with liberal amounts of Lysol Disinfectant Spray. It's common sense, really.

After watching Hollow Man for the first time since its theatrical release one year ago, I get the idea that the boys at Columbia Pictures don't have much common sense. They've neglected to take out the trash for a long, long time too. I'm also guessing that they are getting used to that rotting, fetid smell that hovers throughout Columbia Pictures's hollowed corridors. It's kind of reminiscent of those stories you hear about the reclusive little old lady with the house full of cats and just the one litter box. About two thirds of the way into Hollow Man, I felt like a gagging, watery-eyed cop on a missing person call with a handkerchief over his nose, wading through a stench of piss, layers of garbage and cat crap.

Hollow Man is a miserable, miserable movie. It falls under the ever-growing category of films that stick to that ridiculous, dumbass summer movie blockbuster formula: CGI, one-liners and explosions. I can only blame myself for the precious 114 minutes of my life I wasted watching it, but somebody owes me for the entire bottle of 409 Liquid Cleaner I used to remove the regurgitated food stains off of my cozy beanbag.

You'd think a guy like Kevin Bacon with all 6 of his degrees would be smart enough to avoid a movie like Hollow Man. I could even venture to say that the fabled "Six Degrees" of Kevin Bacon represent the icy degree of coldness his acting career has been trapped into, but I won't, only because the chicks here at PlanetSucks dig him and his big wiener. Fine, who else? Elizabeth Shue is another easy target, but I'd probably have better luck targeting the person who cast her to portray a scientist.

No, the blame should go to director, Paul "Hollow Man" Verhoeven, who also directed the pretty good Basic Instinct, the not-so good Starship Troopers and the seizure inducing Showgirls. Much like a washed-up two-bit magician at a county fair, Verhoeven seems to be hell bent on the idea of pulling bad movie after bad movie out of his seemingly roomy ass. The remake of James Whales' The Invisible Man would have been fascinating in a competent filmmaker's hands, but Verhoeven's tacky style and ham-handed approach has unequivocally sucked the life out of any interest in an intelligent and credible revisitation of the 1933 classic.

This same Verhoeven directed a panty-less Sharon Stone to open up her legs and let film going audiences take a peek around her carpeted naughty bits in Basic Instinct. With Hollow Man he has decisively upped the ante this time around by dropping his pants around his ankles, spreading his cheeks and crapping his load in Technicolor. His filmmaking shenanigans give new meaning to the term "Panty Dropper".

Speaking of pussies, most major motion picture studios suffer from the aforementioned Old Reclusive Lady Syndrome - too many cats and not enough litter boxes. It's a pervasive phenomenon that deserves some serious attention. I also hope, one day, someone will eventually take out the goddamn trash too.

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