Don Jon Is The Great Awakening For Chronic Masturbators: A Review

After this weekend, everybody has but one thing on their minds: “How about that Breaking Bad finale?” But perhaps second to that, they’re wondering: “Was that Joseph Gordon-Levitt movie any good?” And to that I say, "Yeah it wasn’t bad, bro." Actually, Don Jon was pretty good. Maybe that kid from 3rd Rock From The Sun has finally earned his stripes.

The movie provided the audience with something very close and dear to my heart, an in-depth expose into the world of chronic masturbation. It was essentially what would happen if Mike Wallace of 60 Minutes was replaced by me when I was twelve and just saw the Britney Spears “Toxic” music video. Make sure to tune in next week for our feature, Boobs: That’s Where The Milk Comes Out Of. Broseph Gordon-Levitt just spends the whole movie “snapping into his Slim Jim” like Macho Man Randy Savage circa a 1993, coke-induced blur, God rest his soul.

In film, his character, Jon, is the ultimate ladies’ man. He can sleep with any woman he wants, including the dime-piece to end all dime-pieces, Scarlett Johansson. However, he soon comes to an interesting revelation: our hero realizes that real sex just isn’t the same as jerking off!

To repent for his salami-stroking sins, JGL frequently makes an appearance at his local confessional. Sure, he loves to flog the log and have sex out of wedlock, but he seems to have a bit of Catholic guilt despite his constant indulging. And that, my friends, is what we call a three-dimensional character.

Scar-Jo reprises her role of being the hottest chick imaginable, while also playing a trashy chick from Jersey. There is one scene where, instead of fucking Joseph Gordon-Levitt, she rubs her ass against him until he creams his jeans. I think this scene defines Scarlett as an actress and don’t worry, I’m not about to be completely misogynistic. What is mean is, Scarlett shines her brightest in scenes that require subtlety and indirect action. If she had just been like, “Ahhh! Look at my tits!” I probably wouldn’t have thought so highly of her performance.

I'd venture to say that cumming has never been so accurately depicted on film. They have an Oscar for that?

Julianne Moore plays the Garfunkel to Scar-Jo’s Simon as the old and weathered free spirit who has a night class with Levitt. It seems obvious that her sex appeal was toned down to fit the role, but for those who doubt this old stallion’s moxie, I only ask you to refer to last year's high enjoyable Sarah Palin biopic, Game Change.

Speaking of old stallions, you may recall that in year 1984, Tony Danza raised the question, “Who’s the boss?” And finally, in 2013, he’s found his answer: Bruce Springsteen apparently. Alright, maybe I’m being a little hard on Tony, but the dialogue between him and his character’s wife reminded me of that of the parents in Saturday Night Fever—two bickering Italian people criticizing the narcissistic lifestyle of their good-looking, womanizer son. Pretty spot on. Maybe he wouldn’t have seemed that bad, if it weren’t for the fact that for the entire movie he’s just chilling in his wife beater, super vascular and toned, somewhere between one of The Warriors and your vainy, later aged, lesbian gym teacher Pat.

Really, the only thing that turned me off from this movie was the lame duo who were supposed to be Jon’s ‘boys’. They were a dreadfully forced, post-Hangover/Jersey Shore, wolf pack, so generic and racially diverse that they seemed to be straight out of a Bud Light commercial.

In the end, I think the editing was this film’s best friend. The stock footage montage during the opening credits was amazing and the reoccurring jerk off quick cuts were executed perfectly. I'd venture to say that cumming has never been so accurately depicted on film. They have an Oscar for that?

On the surface, Don Jon is about churning penis butter, but there is a deeper, more subtle message for those who choose to read between the lines: everyone from New Jersey is fucking awful.

Four Pins Rating: 7.5/10 Hail Mary's and Our Father's

Matt Rimer is a writer living in Boston. Follow him on Twitter here.