Oh dear. Oh dear, Oh dear. Where to begin with Fools Gold. Firstly an Olympic anology. The film is not Gold, nor Silver nor Bronze. In fact it would struggle to compete with the inside pant content of a Tibetan monk having seven shades of the brown stuff beaten out of him on a daily basis. The jokes die on their arses, zero suspense is built and the characters are as intolerable as living in Burma. Current Affairs? I like them. I think they're good.
Matthew McConaughey is the fool of the title. A deep sea diver who is on the search for some famous Spainish crap or something. He's recently divorced from fellow hunter Kate Hudson who now works for Donald Sutherland on a boat near the island where Fool is diving. Thats lucky, if they wanna get back together. As is every bloody plot point in the movie. At no point does anyone work out where the treasure is without dumb fucking luck helping them. The same dumb luck that keeps getting Matthew work I assume.
This Z grade Indiana Jones style treasure hunter has zero going for him yet every woman in the movie gets moist as soon as the prick flashes his inbred grin. His sexual prowess is referenced ad nauseum. I'm guessing M McC asks for this to be written in to the script before he signed on to dissuade the popular opinion that repeated cannabis use has left his penis as flaccid as a Cheesestring (available in all good stores, the Cheesestrings, not the flaccid penis).
Two good things come out of this movie. Firstly McConaughey gets slapped about a bit which has inspired in me a new game where I fantasise about torturing the male leads in bad movies (this will come in handy for all Ashton Kutcher movies). Secondly you get to feel really sorry for Kate Hudson. She was Miss Penny Lane for godsake. Maybe someone out there will see this shipwreck of a movie and feel the same pity I did and throw her a damned bone. In the meantime if you want sea-related highjinks check out her mum Goldies Overboard instead. Compared to this its Citizen fucking Kane.