Look, I hate to be that guy that points out that a valued part of your childhood is an atrocious piece of trash, but here we are. Forrest Gump is an incredibly bad movie. Understand, this is not an opinion; this is a simple statement of fact, one which I will endeavor to prove during the breadth of this article.
First, Forrest Gump is freakishly racist. I mean Birth of a Nation, blackface, Mel Gibson after three-fifths of gin racist. The principal black character, Bubba, bonds with Forrest over the fact that both are almost sub-humanly dumb. And unlike Forrest Gump, whose stupidity is frequently commented on and, indeed, the lynchpin of the entire movie, the fact that Bubba has an I.Q. roughly equivalent to that of a hunting dog is never mentioned. He’s just an average black person, the intellectual equivalent of a severely retarded white man. Bothered yet?
Lets move on. There’s a reason why we generally do not promote the developmentally challenged to positions of intellectual authority. And that’s because, when their words are not accompanied by a ringing crescendo supplied by a sixty piece orchestra, they tend to sound, how shall I put this kindly, intensely insipid. Gump’s wisdom is so cliché it fails even to rise to the level of platitude. “Life is like a box of chocolates… you never know what you’re gonna get.” I hate to point out the obvious fact that most boxes of chocolate come with a little slip telling you exactly where to find the coconut crunch, but I think it illustrates a useful point. (Also, how wacked out of your mind do you have to be to accept candy from a mongoloid stranger on a park bench?) There are differences between severely retarded people and non-severely retarded people, one of the key ones being that those of us not in the Velcro-shoe part of the population often have a decent idea what is going to happen next. For instance, had an army recruiter approached me in 1969 and asked me to go to Vietnam, I might have said no, or at the very least been less surprised when my trip to Vietnam ended with some of the soldiers in my forward-moving unit, you know, dead.
Or lets take Forrest’s lover Jenny and their ‘son.’ No far be it for me to call into question the word of a junkie tramp with a long history of physical and sexual abuse, but lets just look at this situation objectively. Is it more likely that (a) the child is the product of a single sexual encounter between Jenny and a retarded millionaire virgin or (b) the child is the product of one of the innumerable sexual encounters between Jenny and say, the roadie for the Eagle’s farewell tour or the guy at Checker’s who gave her a free Steakhouse Double Cheese-Burger. I guess some people got to the end of this movie and thought, ‘oh, how sweet, they finally ended up together.” I got to the end of the movie and wondered why people weren’t more horrified at watching Forrest have to raise what, by any reasonable standard of mathematical calculation, is almost certainly another man’s child.
They say you can lead a horse to water but you can’t make him drink. Well Dear Reader, I have lead you to lake Forrest Gump is a Saccharine Pile Of Feces. Whether or not you drink deep of its sweet water is up to you. All I will add is this; Robert Zemeckis, I will fight you any time, anywhere.