in all seriousness though, i got on here to write about Rambo. yes, mr. stalone. or better yet, john rambo. now, i remember playing in the river behind my house when i was in second grade (which i later learned through common sense and the intelligence of a jr. high neighbor that this was in fact not a "river" but rather a small creek that had quite a bit of sewer in it--friends, i gaurantee i stayed in the clean(er) end) with my dear older brother, who, by chance, had a thing for rambo (i think it was the accessories-i mean, it was a cool headband). This means not only did i play in the "river," I layed against the filthy walls that ran underneath the 3w highway and let my brother bury me in mud, face and all, so i could slowly pull away from the wall and pretend to attack his best friend a' la rambo after he walked past me. if this doesnt make sense then you need to see the original movies. the only one who got zero joy from this little pastime was my mother who i'm fairly certain simply had to burn all of my clothes after such an outing. that being said, you should know that i understand why people like rambo. he's badass. he is a machine that cannot be broken even though he is in fact made of flesh. he epitomizes the two things i learned from living with a brother that men cannot escape fascination with--no, not women, rather withstanding pain and being a badass who can dish it out. okay, i get it. sure.
so here's the thing. last night while watching the (hopefully) last Rambo film, i could appreciate (somewhat) why my husband made me go watch this instead of, say, Cassandra's Dream or some other film actually worthy of being called a film, and i could also sense why people cheer for him.
- Rambo is human. he won't go home because he is a killer and (seems to me) afraid to go face a world where he has to be a little more civil than the jungles surrounding burma.
- Rambo is not human--in the sense that i truly cannot believe there is another person on the planet with a bmi of -2 who weighs 250 lbs. and can literally rip a man's throat out like our dear john did before the terrible actress who played sara was about to be raped (go rambo--i was especially proud of him in this case)
- rambo is a superhero. if humans were peanuts he is comparitely a walnut in size (i know, i know) and yet he still manages to sneak up behind pesky little soldiers, seriously out of thin air, and whack them.
- rambo is sylvestor stalone. no one else could play and he does the character seemlessly well. honestly. it would be easy for a meat head to make him look a mechanical terminator style bloke. so, kudos for that.
now, that's all the good i am going to say about rambo. the people in the theater was so excited when he was blowing enemy camps up and shooting his machine guns that i think they all grew bigger dongs just watching it (i'm sorry, i had to say it) --i think i even saw the arsenio hall helicopter arm pump. i mean, it just freaks me out. i had a guy friend say once that every guy thinks about killing or basically being in that dominant position at some point--it's instilled in them so to speak--and they just know it's not realistic or ethical. really, you think? also, no one cheers when the bad guys were throwing babies into fires, or raping women, or decapitating innocents. i realize rambo is the savior in this case and the moral of the story seemed to be that only violence can end violence--as exemplified with the missionary who had to kill a soldier about to off our dear rambo (which wouldn't have happened, silly guy). i think i just think to much with this film. it's supposed to be about action and guns and blood and glory....not necessarily redemption and peace as i would hope. oh well.
i went, i saw, i will never own on dvd.
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