The Grinch that Stole Bitches

by Edward Dunn in , ,


THE GRINCH THAT STOLE BITCHES R 74 Minutes Director: Malik Marcell Writers: Urick Hopkins, Malik Marcell Otis “Money Bag Mafia” McIntosh, Navv Greene, Christianne “Chrissy Cindy” Jones CAST Otis “Money Bag Mafia” McIntosh...The Grinch Navv Greene...Santa (Martin Luther Santa) Christianne “Chrissy Cindy” Jones...Mrs. Claus (Coretta Santa) Nigel K. Rhoden...Lil G Marly St. Cloud...Lil E Terry “Goofy” Jones...Jevonte Erica Duchess...Greisha Marco Lavell...Jamier Travis Adonis...Jaquan Nic Starr...Father Claus

I don’t know how I missed this gem last year. I picked it mostly because I knew the title alone would make you laugh—and to be fair, you can’t accuse the movie of false advertising. There are definitely bitches stolen.

A movie like this has so much potential. In my head, I pictured something with a little more confidence and swagger: Katt Williams in a fur coat, walking around the neighborhood with a pimp cane, stealing bitches with intent. That’s not the movie we get.

Instead, Gregory Reynolds gets out of jail in a headless green Grinch costume. It doesn’t work. The movie expects you to accept he’s the Grinch and keeps moving.

Through a flashback, we learn Greg tried to rob Santa a few years earlier and got arrested. Now he’s back, and he wants revenge.

After three years inside, Greg heads back to Santa’s house to finish what he started. Instead, he kidnaps Mrs. Claus—Coretta Santa. From there, the Grinch rides around town with an accomplice or two, knocking on doors like Jehovah’s Witnesses, except he’s stealing bitches instead of handing out pamphlets.

This is some deeply specific hood shit, punctuated by weird, soft-core porn montages that feel like they belong to a different movie entirely.

You can also tell exactly where the ad breaks were supposed to be. The movie plays straight through without commercials, which makes sense. I’m having a hard time picturing the meeting where someone says, “Okay, let’s advertise our detergent in this film.”

THE GRINCH THAT STOLE BITCHES.
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If you want an extra laugh, turn on the subtitles. They’re wrong from the very beginning, like they were auto-generated and never checked.

There’s a running gag with the Grinch’s old lady showing up with a kid that—even by the standards of this movie—definitely isn’t his. Not because it’s funny—because it keeps showing up. And that’s about as consistent as this movie gets; everything else feels like it was assembled from a series of unrelated Vine clips.

It all builds to the husbands marching around in red cloaks like it’s HANDMAID’S TALE, tracking the Grinch to his lair. We eventually learn that the movie casually drops that the Grinch is Santa’s father’s bastard son, like it’s no big deal. This reveal happens and then immediately disappears into the next scene, as if the film itself forgot it just said that. Santa and the husbands finally catch up to him, chaos ensues, and by the end everyone learns to appreciate their wives. Why not.

Every filmmaker wants their movie to make sense. That’s something I believed before watching THE GRINCH THAT STOLE BITCHES. Put it on if you have family over and you’d like them to leave.

Final Verdict: 42 out of 100

Sidenote: Only available on Tubi.