Everybody is a critic when it comes to movies

A million years ago when pterodactyls filled the sky and PK first started working in print, I wrote many types of articles: human interest pieces, one-day travel features, health reports and my all-time fave — reviews.

Mostly, they were about local theatrical productions. I must admit to taking a beating by some of my editors on my review reporting.

Truth be told, I rarely made note of anything even remotely negative. So, I don’t like hurting the other humans’ feelings, a’ight? Sue me.

Either way, a little Medina-based publication for which I once served as a “stringer” (a cool-sounding term for a freelancer, BT dubs) sometimes paid me to review movies. So I decided to dust off my press hat and do a little digging into “The Dirt.”

For those who may be unfamiliar, “The Dirt” is the Netflix flick based on the autobiography of Motley Crue entitled “The Dirt: Confessions of the World’s Most Notorious Rock Band.”

It was a New York Times best-selling book when published in 2001. Eighteen years later, the story has been re-enacted for a new generation of listeners, viewers, and um, gawkers. Believe me, the story of Motley Crue is like a slow-motion train wreck that you can see approaching for about 50 miles, you dig?

Naturally, I had to watch it. What? So, I had a crush on Tommy Lee when I was 19, sue me again.

Here’s the thing about “The Dirt” — it ain’t “Bohemian Rhapsody,” so stop comparing them. Just stop.

And for the record, it’s not “A Star is Born,” although somehow, against all odds and in spite of themselves, the four of them were.

“The Dirt” isn’t a classic film a la “Casablanca,” “Singin’ in the Rain” or “It’s A Wonderful Life.”

It’s part “Rebel Without a Cause” with a little “School of Rock” thrown in and some “Natural Born Killers” for good measure.

Think “Pulp Fiction” meets “Spinal Tap.”

Critics have almost exclusively trashed the film about misfits Nikki Sixx, Tommy Lee, Mick Mars and Vince Neil. Perhaps they should have read my disclaimers?

Fans, on the other hand, have a different opinion entirely. We flipping love it.

Suffice it to say this isn’t one of my beloved Hallmark movies. It’s graphic, lewd, crude and downright offensive on oh so many levels. The scene featuring Ozzy Osbourne is particularly disturbing, as is the sequence showing Nikki’s infamous heroin overdose — make that double overdose.

How they wound up on top is a mystery. How they didn’t stay on the bottom once falling from the top — ditto.

Their lives were a haze of depraved debauchery enveloped in a smoke-filled, alcohol-driven, woman-debasing, drug-infused mire of self-serving, opulent behavior. The trashed hotel rooms, unabashed vulgarity and other loathsome, contemptible conduct — it’s really a revolving series of epically bad choices.

All four band members narrate intermittently, but predominantly, this is Nikki’s story and it’s a cautionary tale of how NOT to live your life. In true Motley Crue fashion, it’s sprinkled with comic relief even amid the most tragic situations.

At the end of the day, it’s the tale of a broken little boy who got that way because his parents were NOT in any sense of the word. He put himself and many others through the ringer before finally figuring out the real secret of happiness: love.

Moral: Show your children faith, hope and love.

Oh, that and never leave your girlfriend alone with Motley Crue, capisce?

Kimerer is a Tribune Chronicle correspondent who’s amazed the Crue is alive. Share your motley thoughts with her at www.patriciakimerer.com.

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