Now, about Johnny Depp—People magazine was brilliant when they named him sexiest man alive in 2009. Because he was. He should’ve been named 2010’s sexiest man alive too. So, how the heck did I fall asleep watching these powerfully seductive superstars?

Here’s my theory. It’s not just that the movie has a lousy script, it’s the way Angelina’s character doesn’t even seem like a person. She seems like a mannequin, or a runway model, prancing instead of walking with her nose too high in the air. One of the things I’ve always liked about her is that she seems to put out this tough chick persona attempting to hide a vulnerable, probably overly sensitive woman underneath. Without actually knowing her there is no way to know exactly who she is. Maybe it’s her PR team that has painted that image. She’s made motherhood sexy, philanthropy cool, and playing with knives, wearing blood in an amulet, tattooing herself silly merely seem like neurotic quirks. In The Tourist she is still beautiful but gave off zero heat. She was wooden like an automaton—robotic like … well … a robot.

Johnny Depp had a dorky hairstyle and seemed more like a nerd who worked in a library than a man capable of having a sexual feeling for anyone. He was stiff (or perhaps I should say unstiff) like dead wood.

The problems with The Tourist are an inane script and poor directing. The movie was a boring bit of nonsense that should be skipped. Better to spend the $12 renting Girl Interrupted and Blow.

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