A short novel came out a while back that has a cult following and is becoming a movie – Abraham Lincoln: Vampire Hunter. The story, without too many details, is that Abe’s grandfather and mom are killed by vampires and he vows to destroy them. They tie it in to the Civil War and there is the unmatched awesomeness of our greatest leader beheading the unliving with a woodcutter’s axe. I am nearly salivating at how purely enjoyable this movie may be.
Yet, it is so fantastical and filled with potential, I must temper my excitement. Why? I have been left in the cold, shivering after some bad action movies too many times. I was reminded of this when flipping channels the other to see G.I. Joe: The Rise of Cobra. Could they make Marlon Wayans any more annoying? You’re a soldier, not Smokey from Friday. And what in hell is going on with the uniforms – looks like a weird European sex party is about to break out – and not the good kind.
The worst interpretation of an action movie ever, though, was Ang Lee’s The Hulk. That’s right – the director of Brokeback Mountain did the Hulk. The Hulk is a great male role model. Rather than use reason and logic; he gets fire rage, turns green, and smashes everything in sight. Sounds like a good way to deal with things to me. Yet in this movie, the first fight scene is an hour into the movie, where the Hulk battles not the Abomination or the military that is constantly hunting him down, he fights genetically enhanced poodles. Poodles? I felt like Ace Ventura after he figured Ray Finkle was Lois Einhorn and was shaking in the shower. Or to be more topical, I felt like I think I would have felt, had I actually watched Brokeback Mountain. I’ve never even seen it and yet when someone says, “I can’t quit you!” I nearly gag.