WASHINGTON — If I were a cartoonist, a phrase cartoonists are loath to hear, I’d sketch a chubby imp donned in a diaper, sporting a chia mohawk and munching the last Big Mac on earth, while straddling a nuclear-armed missile that bears a striking resemblance to Dennis Rodman.
The imp’s pudgy hands would be caressing a palm-sized computer by which he can digitally destroy the object of his wrath du jour. His target, you might have guessed, is Hollywood.
You may have surmised why I am not a cartoonist. I have no talent for drawing, but you get the point: Little Kim Jong Un, supreme leader of the Democratic (cough, cough) People’s Republic of Korea, apparently wasn’t able to tolerate what we nutty Americans call political satire.
Or at least what Hollywood calls satire. Sony, specifically, considers it “satire” to blow up the face of the person described in paragraph one. What the movie lacks in wit is apparently compensated by the sort of antics that the mood-altered find fantastically funny. This is what earns the film the label of “stoner movie” for those who are not exactly riveted by the zeitgeist.
Thus, the mad tyrant, whose rapacious curiosity includes wondering how long people can survive on a diet of grass, turns his basilisk gaze to the West where lesser mortals dare to mock him.