The Family Stone (2005)

 By: Felix Felicis (A Toast) –
How many beers do you recommend for this movie?
1 Beer! A Toast! Great Movie!2 Beers! Good Movie!3 Beers! Okay Movie!4 Beers! Mediocre Movie!5 Beers! Awful Movie!6-Pack! Bad movie! Do not be Sober!

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Holiday movies are like girl scout cookies; delicious, filling, come ‘round once a year, and usually end with me spooning them in a bed of chocolate and regret. If you’ve never crysturbated to touching melodrama combined with humor, heart, and wit then you’re probably not me (and you’ve probably never watched The Family Stone)… Or been lifetime-banned from Build-A-Bear Workshops nation-wide. Whatever, “family-oriented” hipster douches, what the fuck EVER.

DOUBLE STANDARDS TASTE LIKE LIES.
DOUBLE STANDARDS TASTE LIKE LIES.

The Family Stone follows Sarah Jessica Parker as Meredith, an uptight, rigid, know-it-all who visits her boyfriend Everett’s (played by the ever-delectable Dermot Mulroney) home for the holidays and gets more than she could’ve ever bargained for as she embarks on a journey of ass, grass and pass (the gravy). Will Meredith have what it takes to survive in the family Stone? Will she triumph in the face of adversity and snarky banter? Will John Mayer ever stop making vaginas explode by his trouty pout alone?

No, the answer to that last one is no.
No, the answer to that last one is no.

A Toast

Every one in this festive fiesta flick is a heavy-hitter and they’re not fucking around. The ensemble cast in The Family Stone is what made this movie work (with enough humor, wit, charm, and charisma to power a small fleet of vibrators through a week of heavy use). Orgasms are God’s apology for putting us within arm’s reach of both our family and alcohol during the holidays. But I digress.

Weird. She makes the same face I do when my washer’s on the spin cycle.
Weird. She makes the same face I do when my washer’s on the spin cycle.

There’s not a moment wasted in this Ode to Joy (DID YOU SEE WHAT I DID THERE BECAUSE CHRISTMAS) and of all the talent dropping tears like Holiday Hiroshimas, Diane Keaton is an A-List A-Bomb of powerhouse skill and purposeful precision. Keaton lights up the screen with her grace and depth of emotion and could pull tears out of the hardest hearted bastard ever to cock, I mean walk, I mean cock the earth. I mean, I’m about as emotionally constipated as a tiny Kenyan child who’s never seen a vegetable and The Family Stone chokes me up, without fail, every time, like a bondage BDSM shot straight to the heart-place.

SAFEWORDS ARE FOR QUITTERS.
SAFEWORDS ARE FOR QUITTERS.

I’m almost at a loss for words as to how to describe the resonating feelings that this film drags out of me, and, for a wordy bitch like myself, that’s saying something; considering it usually takes a ball gag and previously-agreed-upon hard limits to achieve the same effect. There’s humor mixed with tragedy mixed with hope and a dash of deviously delightful irreverence, shaken-not-stirred in a yuletide tumbler, and served on a crushed bed of pussy. Because if there’s anything that gets lady-engines revving on all cylinders, its romantic dramedys. And Ron Swanson.

WHO’S BEEN READING MY DIARY AGAIN?! WHAT SORCERY IS THIS?!
WHO’S BEEN READING MY DIARY AGAIN?! WHAT SORCERY IS THIS?!

Squeeze a tear or two out and beat those emotionally-charged beavers off with a dick, I mean stick, I mean dick; also, a nod to S.J.P and Rachel McAdams for two of the most genuine and believable character arcs in the film. Keep an eye on Seabiscuit’s hair, Boozers, the looser it gets, the looser your favorite horse-faced hussy gets, too. The Family Stone is the perftit holiday date movie, girl’s night in, or excuse to crysturbate while rubbing Rocky Road on your tits. Allegedly. Writing for a friend.

They say everyone has a doppelganger.
They say everyone has a doppelganger.

This film has a clever script, masterfully brought to life by a stellar cast, is everything you could want in a cinematic experience, and is accompanied by a soundtrack that hits all the right notes in all the right places. The Family Stone brought characters I actually gave a fuck about together and perfectly balanced lighthearted fun with the deeper richness and clarity of reflection that the best films inspire in us long after the credits have rolled.

Give the gift of fuck this holiday season.
Give the gift of fuck this holiday season.

Verdict

AToast-150x150

Not only would I fuck The Family Stone, I’d bring it home to mom and chain it in the basement of my heart. Two holiday nips way, way up.

How I lure men into the windowless van of my love.
How I lure men into the windowless van of my love.

Drinking Game

Take a Drink: for every embarrassing, awkward or excruciatingly tense moment. Bring a backup liver.

Do a Shot: each time Seabiscuit puts her hoof in her mouth.  

Take a Drink: whenever you have the overwhelming urge to buy Claire Danes a goddamned headband for those bangs.

Take a Sip: for every bathrobe, tear, or clam-digger cough.

Do a Shot: anytime you spy with your little eye a family photo.

Shotgun a Beer: if you get choked up during “Have Yourself A Merry Little Christmas”. Shotgun Two: if you don’t.

About Felix Felicis

Filled with smart-assed sass and armed with the expletives to prove it, Felix Felicis is a critic adrift in a sea of dirty thoughts and tawdry humor. If you see her float by, toss Felix some beef jerky and a taser. She’ll take it from there.

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