The Vow has sent me on a rant, and I’m going to make every one of you listen to all of the things that are wrong with this movie. ***OMG, SPOILER ALERT*** I’m not even going to touch on the fact that it followed the same plot line as the final episode of Full House, in which Michelle gets amnesia and walks around the house making people feel uncomfortable, because I’ve never had amnesia and don’t know what people with amnesia act like. Whatever. So, Rachel McAdams and Channing Tatum, aka “Paige and Leo” (???) get married at the Art Institute because that is what indie kids do. I’ve spent many hours at the Art Institute, and I don’t at all remember any exhibit in the museum that features precariously mounted paintings from every single time period. I don’t think anyone, ever, would hang priceless paintings above and around each other. Those things need space. How do you even look at the paintings when their hung like that? What if one fell? What if a crazy person came and through acid at the wall? You just don’t do that, and I can only imagine the curators at the museum that day were nursing their stomach ulcers long after they finished filming that scene. I know for a fact that by escaping from the Art Institute by crossing the bridge that leads to Millennium Park, they would have had to run from the European wing, down the staircase, past the front entrance, down another staircase, past the Asian wing, through the Ancient Art hallway, through a gift shop, then through the Modern Art wing and up a winding staircase before even reaching the bridge. It would have made much more sense to escape through the front entrance like a normal person. That would have been much more efficient. I know for a fact that there’s no way you can have a private kiss with your new bride/groom underneath The Bean, because that thing is always being swarmed by tourists. Tourists and normal people. I mean, Cloud Gate IS pretty cool… sometimes you just have to go look at your reflection on your lunch break. And possibly take a few pics of yourself. I also know for a fact that Art Institute students don’t marry Channing Tatums and go live in giant houses in Boystown, or wherever they were. They shack it up in crappy apartments in Wicker Park because money is better spent on $15 packs of cigarettes and acrylic paint instead of things like food and rent. They don’t date successful record producers, they date their fellow students, because they’re the only ones who understand how artistic and “inspired” they are. They don’t get grants from… well… anyone, they just TALK about getting grants as if it’s some mystical part of their future that will somehow unfold. Somehow. They don’t have their own studios in old, spacious, industrial buildings. They paint in their bedrooms, inhaling expensive oils and turpentine in their sleep and slowly poisoning their lungs. Also, I am not a doctor, but I do know for a fact that if you wake up after recovering from a brain trauma to find out that you’re married to Channing Tatum, you do NOT question it. I don’t care how confused a comatose girl may be when she awakes, she should never, ever, ever send Channing Tatum on the runaround. Just smack that wedding ring back on and keep that shit locked down. I was going to say something about how Sam Neill is a major douche in this movie, mostly because he has a giant portrait of himself hanging in his living room, but I think I pretty much covered it with that sentence. I was also going to say something about Channing Tatum’s ass, but it doesn’t matter anymore.

The Vow has sent me on a rant, and I’m going to make every one of you listen to all of the things that are wrong with this movie. ***OMG, SPOILER ALERT***
I’m not even going to touch on the fact that it followed the same plot line as the final episode of Full House, in which Michelle gets amnesia and walks around the house making people feel uncomfortable, because I’ve never had amnesia and don’t know what people with amnesia act like. Whatever.

So, Rachel McAdams and Channing Tatum, aka “Paige and Leo” (???) get married at the Art Institute because that is what indie kids do. I’ve spent many hours at the Art Institute, and I don’t at all remember any exhibit in the museum that features precariously mounted paintings from every single time period. I don’t think anyone, ever, would hang priceless paintings above and around each other. Those things need space. How do you even look at the paintings when their hung like that? What if one fell? What if a crazy person came and through acid at the wall? You just don’t do that, and I can only imagine the curators at the museum that day were nursing their stomach ulcers long after they finished filming that scene.

I know for a fact that by escaping from the Art Institute by crossing the bridge that leads to Millennium Park, they would have had to run from the European wing, down the staircase, past the front entrance, down another staircase, past the Asian wing, through the Ancient Art hallway, through a gift shop, then through the Modern Art wing and up a winding staircase before even reaching the bridge. It would have made much more sense to escape through the front entrance like a normal person. That would have been much more efficient.

I know for a fact that there’s no way you can have a private kiss with your new bride/groom underneath The Bean, because that thing is always being swarmed by tourists. Tourists and normal people. I mean, Cloud Gate IS pretty cool… sometimes you just have to go look at your reflection on your lunch break. And possibly take a few pics of yourself.

I also know for a fact that Art Institute students don’t marry Channing Tatums and go live in giant houses in Boystown, or wherever they were. They shack it up in crappy apartments in Wicker Park because money is better spent on $15 packs of cigarettes and acrylic paint instead of things like food and rent. They don’t date successful record producers, they date their fellow students, because they’re the only ones who understand how artistic and “inspired” they are. They don’t get grants from… well… anyone, they just TALK about getting grants as if it’s some mystical part of their future that will somehow unfold. Somehow. They don’t have their own studios in old, spacious, industrial buildings. They paint in their bedrooms, inhaling expensive oils and turpentine in their sleep and slowly poisoning their lungs.

Also, I am not a doctor, but I do know for a fact that if you wake up after recovering from a brain trauma to find out that you’re married to Channing Tatum, you do NOT question it. I don’t care how confused a comatose girl may be when she awakes, she should never, ever, ever send Channing Tatum on the runaround. Just smack that wedding ring back on and keep that shit locked down.

I was going to say something about how Sam Neill is a major douche in this movie, mostly because he has a giant portrait of himself hanging in his living room, but I think I pretty much covered it with that sentence.

I was also going to say something about Channing Tatum’s ass, but it doesn’t matter anymore.

Tags: the vow channing tatum rachel mcadams chicago art institute 3 notes | | Feb 20, 2012
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