The Pineapple Express chugs with comedy, crushes pennies with action

By Michael and Joel

Michael: Light up a bong! Roll a fatty. Get stoned. Do something at 4:20. Drop an A-bomb out of a B-40. Blow a stick. Spark a J. Hit a hubby bubbly (Arabs only). Tighten someone's wig while listening to Bob Marley. Doobie, doobie, doobie. James Franco-American dated Mary Jane...Watson.

Joel: Who's got the herb?

...the young girls ask me. Pineapple Express is not a train, folks, but a movie that's like Cheech and Chong on a train...a crack train full of weed.

I wish. What a pussier drug to write a movie about than ganja. This is the 21st Century, the two triple-fuckin'-zero decade, folks. Even my grandma smokes pot nowadays, and she's retarded.

Your grandma's not retarded; she's retired and she suffers from glaucoma.

Hobblygook! Either way, Grammy Schumacher blows all her money from the government on weed, while I'm stuck without funding for a true Lost Boys sequel.

Whatever. We need to review this movie.

Brah, I'm going to review the shit out of this thing.

Pineapple Express is not a film for the faint of heart, bitches and gentlemen. It is a long, hard (hehe, long and hard --ed note: Joel) look into the dark, seedy underbelly of the cannabis drug trade where anything can happen, and fat Jews become action stars.

Dale Denton -- who previously starred as Ben Stone and (unconvincingly) used his curly Jew sperm to impregnate the 27th hottest woman in the world played by (also the 5th smartest woman in the world) real-life doctor Izzie Stevens (no relation to Cat) who played the title role in Knocked Up -- assumes the role of pothead Seth Rogen. Denton's stiff bedroom performance and unbelievable interest in sticking around with an unruly bitch to take care of the kid made his Knocked Up role a dud. Luckily, Pineapple Express gives him one hell of a catchphrase:

"You've been served." Now that's how you give someone a subpoena. Boosh!

James Franco-American, played by the brilliant Saul Silver, who debuts in Pineapple Express, is less-than-brilliant with his debut performance. Franco-American, also known as The Green Goblin (a name he assumed from the type of reefer he sold back in high school), gets Rogen into trouble by selling him the secretest weed in the world known as Pineapple Express. Pineapple Express leads to visions of murderous murder, in which Ted Jones (played by Harvey FREAKIN' Birdman) blows out the brains of of an Asian Olympian on the verge of Beijing. That's fucked.

Franco-American may be smiling because he just farted, or it may have something to do with the placement of his right hand. Either way, Rogen is visibly and justifiably uncomfortable.

Rogen sees this shit happen whilst serving subpoenii, and hot, sassy, bitchin'-tits cop Rosie Perez, played by the the actress formerly known as Carol, is in on the illegalities. Carol has nice Latin boobies, packed tightly underneath a cop costume, which has the possibility of satisfying no less than seven of my fetishes. Carol has come a long way from boning Woody Harrelson in White Men Can't Jump, in which Blade played basketball with a white guy. I.e. I'd hit it.

Anyways, there's not enough sex in Pineapple Express, but at least it had its fair share of action. Early on, Rogen tells a joke or two, and Mr. Franco-American giggles mostly because he's high. Really, things aren't that funny. The movie relies too much on situational comedy and well-timed delivery than one-liners, and no one wants that. How does this film expect people to laugh when it doesn't slam them with a badoom chhhh cymbal crash of a line to let them know they should be laughing? It is only when the action kicks into overdrive that things get good.

Rogen (left) and Franco-American watch Pineapple Express from behind a tree, but are unsure whether it's funny or not because the movie lacks serious one-liners and a laugh track. Funny? Who knows?

Smartly, director David Gordon Bleu, who recently graduated from indie filmmaking to the big leagues (welcome to real movies with budgets, Dave), places weapons in exactly all the right spots to keep the gunfire blazing, the juices flowing and m' dick hard. There's an early blue-ballin' fight scene that wishes it was in one of the Bourne films, with household objects brought into battle, but never quite comes through with the intense action that can only be harnessed by Matt Damon. Sure, characters are grabbing and bashing with a dust buster, and there is some irony in the scene where one finds himself face first in a litter box after the homeowner is seen making a tuna-fish birthday cake for his calico cat. Did I say calico? I meant dead. That's some seriously symbolism and shit.

It is the action scene near the end, however, that kicks the most amount of dead cat ass. Rogen's performance hints of not taking the role seriously, but he amazingly takes as many bullets as the action greats to be convincing enough. Really, though, Bruce Willis wouldn't give a shit about a missing an ear, and Rogen walks quite the bitch line with his bitchy bitch bitch bitching about something you can barely see under those Jew curls anyways, but picks it back up with a clever riff on the great Evander Holyfield, who, of course, lost his ear in the classic "Rumble in the Jungle" fight with Magic Mike Tyson.

But where was I going with this? Explosion after explosion keeps these final scenes rolling the joint, so to speak. The Goblin beats up brown sugar tits, but it's all good, because the film finally hits its stride with some kickass fight scenes. And there's an epic scene near the end in which Rogen carries his best fucking friend forever out of a flaming building.

These comparative shots show that Rogen was not the first action hero to save a partner in his underoos, but he and Franco-American are the first non-interracial couple to be involved in such a feat. The shots also ask the eternal question, do you save your friends in boxers or briefs?

Flaming is right. I mean, I see what you're saying about the action, but really? Marijuana? That's barely a drug. What kids bother doing marijuana anymore nowadays? And if kids at McKinley High aren't into the drug, how does the studio expect to sell merchandise (drug paraphernalia)? This is an industry Mr. Gordon Bleu. Get your head of your drug-mule of an ass...oh, yeah. That's right. We're dealing with marijuana, so you probably don't have any drug balloons up your ass. Fucking amateur. If I caught my kids doing that shit, I'd give 'em an eight ball and demand they man up.

What I'm getting at is this would have been much more entertaining if Rogen and Franco-American were doing lines off Rosie Perez's tits for 90 minutes. I don't mean to brag, but back in the 70s I did said lines off said actresses' said tits at Disneyland. Mr. Toad wasn't the only one having a wild ride if you catch my drift.

Rosie Perez was put on this planet for only two reason. The first was playing Tina, an annoying Latin bitch, in Spike Lee's Do the Right Thing, a role which she has reprised in numerous films and in real life. She's also got a good rack off which to snort coke.

And why was Rogen dating a high school girl? Who does he think he is, Roman Polanski? Now that guy knew how to handle his blow. I still remember this time in the 80s when the polack and I were at the Viper Room doing coke off Rosie O'Donnell's tits. He wasn't too into it because she was (is--ed note: Michael) fatter than hell , but that just meant more Rosie for The Schumacher. God, those were the days...

Anyways, the film's premise rests on the absurd idea that a customer would spend time with his dealer. I would never hang out with any of my dealers. First of all, they're all black. And all black people, unequivocally, love Shaft, strawberry milkshakes and donkey punchin', and I'm just not a huge fan of strawberry milkshakes. Plus, they are the most boring pieces of shit. Not black people of course -- that would be racist, and we are most definitely not racist -- but drug dealers.

Edwardo is always like, "Let's hang, esse. Lazytown is on." But I just want my coke so I can get on with my day...my coke-filled day. I mean, there are lots of titties to be snorted. How am I ever supposed to get a tiger at my house like Tony Montana if I have to keep hearing Edwardo's stupid stories about how he once got away from a cop by giving him a one-ounce bag of coke. Turns out, it wasn't really a cop, but one of his buddies playing a prank. Super awesome, brah.

Anyways, dealers are a dime a dozen and there is no way I would risk my fuckin' life trying to save his. I sure as hell would never even think of going into that goddamned flaming barn to try to save his flat ass from the bunker. Well, it may be kind of cool with all the guns and beating on Rosie Perez. That reminds me of this time when I helped Christian Bale beat his mom and sister and then we did lines off Chris O'Donnell's tits.



Michael and Joel rate Pineapple Express: Half-baked


If you liked Pineapple express, you may also enjoy...

Cheech and Chong: Up in Smoke A stoner buddy movie on the road, where the van itself is made of marijuana. Similar to the predicament in Speed, Cheech and Chong must make it to their destination before they smoke the whole van. Plus, its "buddies" are 50 percent more ethnic than those in Pineapple Express.



Freaks and Geeks: The Complete Series The straight-to-television precursor to Pineapple Express. See Rogen and Franco-American form their habits during high school, something us directors like to call foreshadowing.



Traffic It's not quite as real and gritty as Pineapple Express, and "director" Steven Soderbergh uses some funny color filters, and really, who's going to fuck that kid from That 70s Show? It's also quite the sausage fest of a movie, but amidst that sausage is the beautiful Catherine Zeta Jones.


Cannabis Favored by low-income hood rats, skaters, President Clinton and rappers alike, cannabis is the "#9" they experiment with at the beginning of the film. It's kind of a bitch drug, but (we've heard) it makes our movies better.