This is one of those movies that you come across on the bottom shelf of your local video store, covered in dust from not being touched in years. You look at the title, close your eyes and open them again to make sure that you're not dreaming, and look at it again in unadulterated disbelief. You bring it to the front of the store and sheepishly present it to the video store clerk (or, in my case as I work there, hide the fact you're taking it home out of embarrassment), and pray to whichever God that the employee doesn't give you a quizzical look. But he does. After all, you're renting a movie that: a) Is called "How to Make Love to a Negro Without Getting Tired" and b) renting a movie that no one has even looked at the box since the store acquired the tape.
This is one of those movies that you bring home and you already know that it's going to be bad. Hopefully a good sort of bad? You're still praying to your God at this point that there will be at least an inkling of unintentional humour in it, and that your hard-earned money won't go to waste. But as soon as you pop the tape in to your VCR, you're already regretting it. It's too late, though. Within the first few minutes, you can't believe that you spent $5 to rent it. $5 down the drain, to watch a movie contaminated with casual slings of the "N" word by the white characters, and casual dismisses of such language by our two protagonists, who are more stale than last week's bread. You immediately notice that there isn't any attempt at even a half-baked plot, and that you're just watching a group of jackoffs ramble about jazz and stoner-quality philosophy for 90 minutes.
For some reason unbeknownst to you, however, you can't stop watching it. Maybe because you can't believe you spent $5 on it and don't want it to see it thrown in the trash? Or maybe because you want to see how prolonged this disaster of a movie can go on. Or maybe because you're watching a movie called How to Make Love to a Negro Without Getting Tired, and only for that title alone. In whichever case, your prayers to your God have gone unanswered. There is nothing of quality within this movie, and once it's finally over, and you're looking it up on the Internet, you see that the main character of Claire Denis' acclaimed film Chocolat is the star of this trainwreck, that the secondary protagonist is now a politician for the Bloq Quebecois, and that Canada's own National Film Board was responsible for it's distribution. And right there and then, you reject your religion as there is no god who would ever allow this to happen.
