God, Rambo: First Blood Part II…
Dumb title, dumb movie.
Now don’t get me wrong, I like me some dumb action movie. Sometimes, you just need some Van Dammage (doesn’t that sound like a great title for a self-help book?). And I’ve often defended this genre to disbelievers – by disbelievers, I mean my wife – but I could hardly stomach Rambo 2.
First off, the story is unbelievably, ridiculously stupid. It’s astounding that James Cameron worked on this script. Hell, it’s so bad, I can barely believe that Stallone wrote it. Let’s start at the beginning…
Rambo, the man who incapacitated ten police officers in the middle of a forest in, like, five minutes with just a survival knife and a few crude traps, is serving his time in a prison work camp – a rock quarry in the middle of nowhere with pickaxes and giant hammers, heavy machinery, and explosives for blasting. Is this where you would stick a cold-blooded, mentally unstable killing machine that could turn a toothpick into a lethal weapon? Rambo could MacGyver the living shit out of that place, blowing it up into very tiny bits that would look awesome in slo-mo.
Why? Because he’s motherfucking Rambo, John J.
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