Story of a Breast Fetish.
This is the story of a supermodel. She does a lot of drugs, has promiscuous sex, and spends her time dressing up ludicrously and practicing shaking her hips like a tipsy prostitute. Actually, it sounds like the story of all supermodels. Throw in some gossiping and back-stabbing, and it's the story of all women as well. But all this description is incidental, because Gia is the movie where Angelina Jolie shows her tits.
But actresses should not be judged by their faces, despite what Life & Style magazine hacks would have you believe. They should be judged by their breasts, and if I were a 10 year-old boy on the cusp of puberty, I would be thoroughly impressed. However, I'm significantly older than that, and as I have access to the Internet, I no longer need to jerk off to HBO movies played after 11 PM. Strangely, most of the people who like this movie like it for just that reason. Or the males do, at least. The girls that like it do so because it helps convince them that the coke they do is glamorous instead of a trashy way to drink more cheap rum without passing out. But the men, they've got the DVD for the tits and the tits only. Maybe it reminds them of massaging their crotch to the lingerie section of the Sears catalogue, or it's some weird Oedipal breast-feeding thing, but it certainly doesn't do it for me. What does do it is the interesting structure, with staged interview segments interspersed with more standard docudrama, and occasional black and white scenes recalling fashion photography, and the harrowing depiction of heroin addiction and AIDS. That's what gets me off, not the tits. And yet, people call me the weird one.