Friday, February 15, 2008

Seriously, what the f*%$, Stallone?

So I saw Rambo, Sylvester Stallone's 2008 masterpiece of political and ethical hand-wringing. No just kidding, it's a gross pumped up Stallone running around the jungle killing guys with no names, and some of the most terrible dialogue I've ever heard.

The idea is very simple. Rambo takes some Christian missionaries into the Burmese civil war. The missionaries are kidnapped and tortured. Rambo accompanies some mercenaries hired to save the missionaries. Rambo saves everybody's asses.

I'm not going to spend a lot of time on this. It's a very simple and stupid movie. Which means I'm torn. On one hand, as a critic of film, as a movie-goer with a modicum of taste, I am appalled and annoyed by the poorly conceived and undercooked characters, the dialogue that tumbles and clanks like an overwound wristwatch, and the lack of any cinematography that makes Burma look like anything other than my backyard. It's a terrible terrible movie. One of the worst movies I've ever seen.

But, but, but, but what why I was so f*$%ing entertained then? Why was I laughing and almost applauding at this movie? What did I expect going into see a movie called Rambo starring Sylvester Stallone?

The violence at the end of the movie is so over the top and so bloody and so gory. I don't think I've ever seen a mainstream Hollywood movie with as much gore. In fact, I don't think I've seen a movie ever with that many exploding body parts. The death toll is in the hundreds and you see like everybody's death. It's awesome.

Rambo is kind of like Thor, but without the jiveass Shakespearean verbal destruction. Rambo is big and burly and when he's
on, he is on like f*$&ing King Kong. Or like Michelle Kwan.

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