Have you ever watched a movie when you were, say, a young child and was positively convinced that it was one of the most amazing films to grace the movie industry. That it was funny, clever, smart, refreshing, and adorable? Then, after a few thousand screenings of such a film you lose all contact with it from the time you were ten years old to the moment you turn exactly 17 and three quarters? I have-
-Enter Beethoven: The story about the 185 lb. St. Bernard who grows up to terrorize the entire family that owns him, excluding the two daughters, one son, and mother. Of course, leaving the father as the only one who, shockingly, cannot stand having his shoes ripped up and mud all over his house. This terrible film is riddled with bad puns, doggie cams, and Charles Grodin. A man who may possibly be the only human alive to ever out-over-act Canada's William Shatner.
I feel as the child who bugs the snot out of his mother to finally get her to make him a Peanut Butter and Jelly sandwitch only to find out that she, once again, ONLY BOUGHT CHUNKY peanut butter.
Sinseriously,
Joel Watson
