Minority Report

I wasn’t going to write this review originally. This was one of those rare cases where, even though I enjoyed the movie, I found myself grappling with some intangible problem, some unanswerable question that arose in my subconscious during the show. I couldn’t quite pin it down while it was happening, but it hit me later like a ton of bricks.

Let’s face it, Steven Spielberg is the preeminent filmmaker of our time, especially since George Lucas ababndoned his THX roots with his latest two exploits. And on the surface, Minority Report lives up to the usual Spielberg standard. The intricate plot is handled with great intelligence, Spielberg’s vision and portrayal of the future is fascinating and detailed, and the F/X are fantastic.

Given all that, perhaps someone could explain to me why one of the main characters lived in a HUGE FUCKING TOILET FULL OF GOO.

The whole movie centers around the “precogs,” three bald zany mutant types who can see murders occurring in the future. They are so accurate, murderers can be arrested and incarcerated before they even commit their crimes. And they do it all from their HUGE FUCKING TOILET FULL OF GOO. I’m not shitting you. The precogs lie dormant in a HUGE FUCKING TOILET FULL OF GOO, dreaming their dreams of murder. Sure, they explain it in the movie as a “Cerebral Synapse Enhancement Pool” or somesuch. But it sure looked like a HUGE FUCKING TOILET FULL OF GOO to me. Once I made the HFTFoG connection in my mind, the movie was irretrievably shot to hell.

The water in the HFTFoG is even tinted blue, like someone dropped a Michelin-sized Tidy Bowl tablet in there with ‘em, and Tom Cruise flushes himself and a precog down the HFTFoG like so much offal to escape the bad guys. How many gallons of water would it take to flush two adults down the crapper? I don’t know, but I’d love to see the construction codes on the john that could do it. Jiggle the handle on those precogs would ya?

I don’t know. Maybe I’m unfairly dumping on this movie and making undeserved cracks. Pinch me off an email and let me know what you think. No shit.

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