Salt: More Like Womb Raider, Amirite?
It dawned on me, as the lights dimmed for the screening of Salt, that I have never actually seen noted baby-hoarder Angelina Jolie DO anything. Except hoard babies. And get her picture taken draped in babies to repair her image after stealing another woman’s husband so she could use his baby cannon to grow a bunch of new babies inside her baby cave. The woman LOVES BABIES, and, hyperbolically speaking, that is literally all I know about her. Has she ever even been in a movie?
I mean, I guess I remember her writhing around like a baby in Girl, Interrupted. And I suppose I have seen a poster of her dressed up as something called a “Tomb Raider” (probably looking for mummy babies to suckle!). And I definitely saw her playing against type (as a woman trying to give a baby back) in 2008’s Changeling, the entire script of which I will now reproduce here:
Angelina: “Hey, where’s my baby son at?” Police: “Oh, we found him. Here you go.” Angelina: “That’s not my son. Where is MY son? I want my son. I want my son back! Where is MY son? Where is MY son? This son is not MY son. I want MY son!” [Repeat until camera runs out of film or the end-times descend upon us in a cleansing rain of hot blood.]
It appears that Angelina Jolie hoodwinked us all into believing that she is a working actress—a movie star, even!—when she is really just a thin person with a baby addiction and a famous father.
Salt is blissfully terrible. It’s essentially a film adaptation of J. J. Abrams’s Alias—a show about a hot lady sleeper agent who goes rogue after her boss kills her boyfriend. Evelyn Salt (Jolie) is a hot lady sleeper agent who goes rogue after her boss kills her boyfriend. As usual, the Russians are still mad about the Cold War. When one of said Russians comes to the CIA headquarters and accuses Salt of being a mole, which she kind of is—OR IS SHE!?—Salt goes on the run to try and prove her innocence—OR HER GUILT.
Salt is preposterous in all the un-funnest of ways. Jolie cannot act. She runs like a drunk daddy longlegs, all elbows and gangle, pausing sometimes to strike a menacing fourth-grader’s karate stance. She wanly shouts things like “Somebody is going to try to kill the Russian president! Do something about that!” She sneaks into the White House wearing a fake rubber face (SURELY the Secret Service is trained to check for those!). With the CIA hot on her heels, she takes time out of her day to MILK A SPIDER. Sample dialogue, chosen at random: “Oh, I believe in moles, all right. Just not the boogeyman. Especially if their plan is to kill the president.”
I never want to watch this woman in anything ever again. Unless, of course, it’s an episode of Hoarders in which the therapist has to coax her to give up the baby she’s got stashed in her gigantic puffy lip pouch like a lump of chew. I would watch the shit out of that.