Yes, I’m perfectly aware of the line-dancing wreck known as Gwyneth Paltrow starring in the upcoming Country Strong, but all of you should already know how I feel about just about anything that Gwyneth Paltrow does. So while I’ve been hysterically giggling over this ridiculous poster and “It doesn’t matter where you’ve been as long as you come back strong” tagline, I’ve also been content to just enjoy the hell out of commentary that leaves me very little to say further, such as that from Celebitchy’s Kaiser on the film’s trailer:

Goopy’s “hick” Southern accent sounds so cheesy. I hate when Yankees do that fakey Southern twang, like every Southerner sounds like Britney Spears. It’s not the case, at all. No one ever tries to do a classy Southern accent anymore. Secondly, I’ll have to see it to be sure, but I’m not buying Goopy’s “lush” scenes. No self-respecting lush just stands beside the bed throwing things. A real lush climbs into bed, starts sobbing and picks up the phone to start drunk-dialing, for real.

Then again, drunk-dialing doesn’t make for a very engrossing, Oscarbaiting sort of movie now, does it? And more Oscar cred (to back up her continued existence as fashion porn alongside Robert Downey Jr.) is exactly what Gwyneth’s looking for here. To take the criticism a bit further, Dustin Rowles takes on the hideous “Country Strong” promotional music video:

Country music has been watered down a lot over the years (I mean: Hootie is a chart topper on the country music charts, for God’s sake, though it actually suits him: Strong voice, cheesy lyrics). But there’s a certain sensibility one needs to have to be a successful country music singer. You need a certain amount of modesty, humbleness, and at least some Southern roots to pull from. Jesus: This lady was born to famous parents in Los Angeles and is married to the dude from Coldplay. And she fancies herself some sort of hippy-dippy Kaballah Martha Stewart.

Gwyneth Paltrow is not a woman who can credibly sing about trailer homes, whiskey, nostalgia, class consciousness or Jesus. She just can’t. And her attempts to do so make her look foolish. The target audience for this movie is going to reject the hell out of it . . . Leather pants and sleeveless shirts? Come on, lady. Go back to your goddamn cocktail parties before Reba flies over to your posh London flat and wipes the floor with your skinny ass.

To summarize, let’s just borrow the words straight from Gwyneth’s trailer twang, “[T]hat’s how it’s done, sweetheart!”