When it comes to film snobbery, I talk a good game. My two favorite films (Christ, look at that -- I even call movies "films") are both French and old, I review mostly indie and foreign fare and I work myself into a lather at the news of every new Hollywood remake. But if you happen into my apartment and see me sitting on the couch with the TV on, laughing like a hyena as a dead guy being pulled behind a boat has his head smashed repeatedly into channel markers, you'll have seen the real Martha Fischer. Yes, my long charade is over: I freaking love Weekend at Bernie's.

I don't even remember the first time I saw it, but I do remember that I talked about it so much that it was the first VHS tape my little brother ever bought -- he got it for me, for my birthday. I can honestly say that I've seen the movie upwards of 30 times, and that it still slays me, every damn time. Even the throwaway lines, like "Hot enough for ya, Richard?" and "This sucks. I am so unhappy!" fill me with joy -- albeit a special, incredibly stupid kind of joy.
categories Features, Cinematical