I Saw That Movie
over the weekend. You know the one.
That's right. DOOM: The Movie. Based on the video game. For some reason, I thought that the movie would be about people with guns. Killing aliens. Two of my favorite movies involve people with guns killing aliens: Starship Troopers and Aliens. Oh. Now that I'm reminded, I'd better update my profile.
No. That's not what the movie's about at all. It's about people with guns killing other people who neither have nor need guns to kill other people. Boy was I surprised.
Essentially, there's this research base on Mars and they discover some new chromosome that when injected (through a bite or a serum or whatever) into a person, turns that person into either a super-sub-human or a super-super-human, depending on that person's moral predilections. Imagine a sort of Hardee's-3/4-pound-of-Black-Angus-beefburger-sized Nietzschean concept of uber and untermensche.
The movie stars the Rock. And some other people. One of those other people is the protagonist. "The Hero," if you will. I'm sure you can already tell what the climactic scene involves, can't you?
After everybody is dead, there is only the Rock and the other guy. The Rock is evil. Being "The Hero," the other guy isn't. The Rock decides to go to Earth (the teleporter is located right outside of Los Angeles, or something), where he can engage in more wholesale slaughter. This, by the way, sounds like a fine plan to me. Call me a contrarian. The other guy decides to stop him, because he is "The Hero," and thus is not evil. They fight, in the way that only superpeople (or robots. See The Terminator series of movies for references) can fight.
I have heard some people say that they only liked the movie because the Rock gets his ass kicked. Contrast this to my own reaction at that pivotal scene, when I stood up and shouted,
-It's yours for the taking, Rock baby, all you gotta do is reach out your hand and grab it, there's nothing in your way now but one little do-gooder angelboy, Rock darling, you can do it. I believe in you. Next stop, Orange County California, boys and girls, teach those fascists a lesson in fear, yeah yeah, and then it's the world! THE WORLD!!!
While I do like attention, I don't like getting thrown out of movie theaters. What began as a simple "pacifistic resistance" to the usher's communistic desire to exile me to the furthest reaches of the parking lot gulag became an altercation reminiscent of any number of scenes involving seedy brothels and/or saloons, as documented by countless B-movies, when the usher decided to call in reinforcements.
I was high on life. I was like Keanu Reeves or Patrick Swayze in Point Break. I knew no fear. I was proud of the stand I was taking against the movie theater's suppressing my first amendment rights. I felt like Patrick Henry. I felt big, bigger than big, bigger than life. I felt like the Rock. And like the Rock, I suffered an excruciating beat-down. I blame it on the flashlights. Ushers carry some godawful big and terrifying flashlights.
No longer content with just inhibiting my moviegoing experience, the Movie Theater Monopoly decided to hand me over to the authorities. I spent the rest of the night in the clink, for disturbing the peace or some shit. I know what you're thinking right now, that it's not fair, that I was just trying to exercise my right to peacably assemble a scenario of global conquest, but as I learned that night, the world's not a fair place. In fact, it's positively hostile.
That's right. DOOM: The Movie. Based on the video game. For some reason, I thought that the movie would be about people with guns. Killing aliens. Two of my favorite movies involve people with guns killing aliens: Starship Troopers and Aliens. Oh. Now that I'm reminded, I'd better update my profile.
No. That's not what the movie's about at all. It's about people with guns killing other people who neither have nor need guns to kill other people. Boy was I surprised.
Essentially, there's this research base on Mars and they discover some new chromosome that when injected (through a bite or a serum or whatever) into a person, turns that person into either a super-sub-human or a super-super-human, depending on that person's moral predilections. Imagine a sort of Hardee's-3/4-pound-of-Black-Angus-beefburger-sized Nietzschean concept of uber and untermensche.
The movie stars the Rock. And some other people. One of those other people is the protagonist. "The Hero," if you will. I'm sure you can already tell what the climactic scene involves, can't you?
After everybody is dead, there is only the Rock and the other guy. The Rock is evil. Being "The Hero," the other guy isn't. The Rock decides to go to Earth (the teleporter is located right outside of Los Angeles, or something), where he can engage in more wholesale slaughter. This, by the way, sounds like a fine plan to me. Call me a contrarian. The other guy decides to stop him, because he is "The Hero," and thus is not evil. They fight, in the way that only superpeople (or robots. See The Terminator series of movies for references) can fight.
I have heard some people say that they only liked the movie because the Rock gets his ass kicked. Contrast this to my own reaction at that pivotal scene, when I stood up and shouted,
-It's yours for the taking, Rock baby, all you gotta do is reach out your hand and grab it, there's nothing in your way now but one little do-gooder angelboy, Rock darling, you can do it. I believe in you. Next stop, Orange County California, boys and girls, teach those fascists a lesson in fear, yeah yeah, and then it's the world! THE WORLD!!!
While I do like attention, I don't like getting thrown out of movie theaters. What began as a simple "pacifistic resistance" to the usher's communistic desire to exile me to the furthest reaches of the parking lot gulag became an altercation reminiscent of any number of scenes involving seedy brothels and/or saloons, as documented by countless B-movies, when the usher decided to call in reinforcements.
I was high on life. I was like Keanu Reeves or Patrick Swayze in Point Break. I knew no fear. I was proud of the stand I was taking against the movie theater's suppressing my first amendment rights. I felt like Patrick Henry. I felt big, bigger than big, bigger than life. I felt like the Rock. And like the Rock, I suffered an excruciating beat-down. I blame it on the flashlights. Ushers carry some godawful big and terrifying flashlights.
No longer content with just inhibiting my moviegoing experience, the Movie Theater Monopoly decided to hand me over to the authorities. I spent the rest of the night in the clink, for disturbing the peace or some shit. I know what you're thinking right now, that it's not fair, that I was just trying to exercise my right to peacably assemble a scenario of global conquest, but as I learned that night, the world's not a fair place. In fact, it's positively hostile.
posted by The Vicar at 12:53 AM
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