R A M B O

I admit it, I paid money to see "Rambo" on opening day. I didn't get any popcorn with extra butter, and I didn't ball out and get slushie, I just spent seven bones and got to see an awesomely bad, yet outrageously awesome movie. I won't review the movie, the New York Times review is spot on with how I feel about it. Check it out here. Here is a sample:

"Mr. Stallone is smart enough — or maybe dumb enough, though I tend to think not — to present the mythic dimensions of the character without apology or irony. His face looks like a misshapen chunk of granite, and his acting is only slightly more expressive, but the man gets the job done. Welcome back."

People frequently say to me, "I don't know how you can think that movie is good" or "Why would you ever see that?" For me, certain movies are about the experience of being in the theater. For me, going to see some crazy big budgeted action movie in a packed house with everyone screaming and going nuts is equal to a sporting game. My first memory of this phenomenon is watching this scene with my Dad and my brothers at a "guys" night at the film.

For those who can't remember, in this scene, Ethan Hunt has to break in (check out how massive that computer is). In the end that knife falls on the table. I remember that knife falling and the whole theater gasped in a huge way, and then breathed a sigh of relief when it stuck in the table.

And "gasp" is what I went to see Rambo for. When Rambo shot an arrow through a dude's chin, did the entire crowd yell, you bet they did. And that yell was worth my seven bones.