When "Rocky Balboa" hit movie theaters in December 2006, I made sure to get a ticket on that opening Wednesday night (and again two nights later).
I felt I owed it to myself after growing up with Stallone's Rocky character, one of those moral imperatives I suppose. Even after "Rocky V."
I felt the same about "Rambo," the fourth installment of Sly's Vietnam hero turned American mercenary and righter of all the world's wrongs. I didn't make it to opening weekend, though. Had to wait until Monday night.
And now I'd do anything to have waited 60 years to see it. "Rambo" may indeed be the worst movie ever made. (Congrats to John Travolta of "Battlefield Earth" who can now surrender his title to Sly.) It stings to say that. Seriously. I feel like the good guy wrestler who just turned on his tag-team partner and joined the bad guys.
But this "movie" is just plain awful. Painful, even. If I weren't there with Jitsu friend Jitsu, I'd have walked out 30 minutes into the 1:33-long movie. If this movie doesn't earn at least five Razzie nominations next year, then I'm launching a campaign to get the Razzie committee in front of Henry Waxman and the House Oversight and Government Reform Committee.
How bad is it? So bad that I will not embed the trailer in this blog. So bad that I apologize to the public for posting the trailer in the past. So bad that I apologize for the Sylvester Stallone trivia quiz I put up on the site last Friday. So bad, I went all "Hollywood Shuffle" and gave the movie the finger when it ended.
The only redeeming quality of "Rambo" is that the female lead, Julie Benz, looks way too much like Journalista friend Lauren that I really thought it was her. And she's a sweet gal, so between the deaths and deathly dialogue, I could at least find some inner peace.
Well, it was either that, or pay attention to all the exploding bodies, unnecessary gore, brutal violence and murdered children.
Maybe that's what it's really like in Burma (Myanmar) these days or in the recent past, I have no clue. Nor do I have an idea of what real combat is like. I'm not pretending that I do.
Nor am I against violence and bloodshed in movies. There's nothing wrong with a good shoot 'em up movie. But "Rambo" was just way too over the top and beyond gratuitous. It was worse than watching bad porn. Don't act like you don't know what I'm talking about.
The violence was intense and in your face. The best comparison I can think of is the opening sequence of "Saving Private Ryan" when they storm Normandy Beach.
Even if you're into violence in film, you'll need to check yourself at the door. And don't eat too much beforehand. You might wind up booting all over the seat in front of you when you watch hear bullets pierce through the 100th child's body. The gutting of some bad guys, the ripping out of voiceboxes, the shredding of bodies from mines and bullets don't help matters either. Oh wait, I forgot one thing: the implied sexual assault and gangrape of a few women by a gaggle of Burmese army men.
Keep your money in your pockets this time, folks. And don't even waste any space in your Netflix queue in a few months when this movie becomes available in the summer.
I realize some folks out there may think I should cancel my GQ subscription and return my Y chromosome for bashing "Rambo" like this. And to those folks, I say "Good job wasting $10, schmucko! Smarten' up. "
- Mark La Monica