Not that you needed further evidence that Hollywood is a very silly place, but …
Just saw Pineapple Express (expect a 119-word review tomorrow), and something jarred me halfway through. Here we have an R-rated flick in which virtually every character is a heavy-duty pot-smoker and/or dealer. When they’re not getting high they’re shooting each other’s ears or feet off in post-Pulp Fiction, so-over-the-top-it’s-funny (the movie wishes – that’s a hint as to where my review will go) fashion, or otherwise indulging in a bit of the old ultraviolence. We’ve got dirty cops, drug lords, Asian gangs, coffee-pot scaldings, car-crushings, you name it.
What we don’t have is a character who smokes cigarettes. Not a single one.
Now it’s been quite awhile since I indulged in, ahem, college, but I never saw a bong that didn’t have a box of Marlboro reds nearby (Old Golds for those who dared to be different, Marlboro Lights for those who fancied themselves health nuts).
Apparently even mega-producer Judd Apatow, though he could get an old-fashioned stoner movie greenlighted, couldn’t buck the ninnies and nannies trying to ban smoking (cigarettes, that is) from the screen.