“Gleefully wacky and irreverent.”

–The New York Times

“Line by line, Mr. Rudnick may be the funniest writer for the stage in the United States today.”

–The New York Times

“Deeply funny musings and adventures elevate Paul Rudnick to the highest level of American comedy writing.”

–Steve Martin

“One of the funniest quip-meisters on the planet.”

–The New York Times

“Paul Rudnick is a champion of truth (and love and great wicked humor) whom we ignore at our peril.”

–David Sedaris

“Quips fall with the regularity of the autumn leaves.”

–Associated Press

October 19, 2014

Libby Gelman-Waxner: Haters Gotta Hate

fury-movie-photo-2It’s so hard to figure out who we’re allowed to hate nowadays. Because, thanks to political correctness, we know that all religions are filled with sensitive, caring people who all want the same things, and that Jews, Christians and Muslims agree on pretty much everything, except for when they want to kill one another. We can’t hate criminals, because so many of them come from terribly abusive backgrounds, and we should feel only sympathy for drug addicts and alcoholics, even when they’re breaking into our cars or peeing in our hallways, because drug addicts and alcoholics suffer from a disease, just like, say, the measles or the mumps, even if people with the measles or the mumps rarely stumble into their cars and run other people over. And we can’t hate communists, because we know that communism is on its way out, because everyone in China now has a flatscreen TV. So the only folks we’re allowed to hate are non-religion-specific terrorists, cackling serial killers, Time-Warner and Nazis.

I will confess that I enjoy hating Nazis, and I love watching them get killed as violently as possible, especially by Brad Pitt in his new movie Fury. Brad plays  a tank commander nicknamed WarDaddy, because everyone in the tank gets a nickname, as if they were Mousketeers or Disney dwarves. I have a feeling that Brad decided to appear in this film because he remembered how great he looked with a World War II haircut in Inglorious Basterds. Brad’s hair is long and highlighted on top, which gives him styling options, and tight on the sides, and in his fabulous, battered cargo pants and leather jacket, he looks like an ad for some great new Ralph Lauren fragrance, called Squadron or Bootstrap. The weird thing is, and I’m in no way claiming that this was included in Brad’s contract, but this sort of military hairdo looks very odd on all of the other cast members, including Shia LeBoeuf and Jon Bernthal, who seem like the 4th and 5th Stooges.

There aren’t a lot of surprises in this movie, but that’s just fine, because  we get to see Brad and his pals under incredible duress, still managing to kill Nazis, get drunk, and bond with each other. In one scene, the American troops obliterate a German village, but luckily one building remains remarkably intact, and inside Brad discovers silverware, hot water, fine china and two pretty young German girls wearing spotlessly fresh dresses. This scene peaks when Brad decides that he needs a shave, to feel human again. In response to the prayers of myself and every other audience member worldwide, in order to shave, Brad removes his shirt, and that shirt stays off, for quite some time. I will just say this: Brad Pitt with his shirt off is why the Allied Forces won the war, and a shirtless Brad could probably defeat ISIS, ebola and maybe even a Republican-controlled senate, if you ask me.