Looking back on the film I have no idea how we got from point A to point B – let alone to point C – but apparently the plot line was little more than a vehicle to allow Bond to get into brawls and gun fights in different locations, and apparently I loved every second of it.
There were many times I felt so disgusted I almost turned the movie off, but somehow couldn’t rip my eyes away from the screen. I’m not sure whether to classify it as a cinema masterpiece or something akin to a solar eclipse that will leave permanent scars on my retinas.
The elevator doors still make the same sound when they open, extras still fall to their deaths off tall objects left and right, and the captain’s chair still swivels and has those ridiculously uncomfortable looking arm rests.
Absolutely no one has seen this film; so any time I mentioned to people I had the song “Rock Me Sexy Jesus” stuck in my head they simply smiled and looked at me like I was some kind of religious nut.
The suspicion that everyone who had recommended this movie to me had been absolutely baked while viewing it grew from a small tingling in the back of my neck during the first few minutes to a throbing certainty located deep within the center of my forehead by the time we reached the thirty minute mark.
I had a difficult time discerning the difference between this third sequel, “Fast & Furious,” and the first movie, “The Fast and the Furious.” Notice the subtle contrasts? Neither did I.
Netflix describes this film as “an escapade that involves seduction, conflict and the harsh realities of poverty.” If you count awkward teenager sex as seductive, hormonal outbursts and senseless double crosses as conflict, and an anonymous narrator occasionally suggesting some secondary characters are on the low end of the economic spectrum as the harsh realities of poverty, then this description is dead on.
Now I know this is The Incredible Hulk and therefore was expecting all sorts of over the top action, but I became spoiled by the movie’s restraint through the early part of the film, so when the last thirty minutes arrived and it appeared as though Louis Leterrier had suddenly realized there was a significant amount of money left in the computer graphics budget, I must confess I was slightly disappointed.
I must admit, I feel like a bit of a fraud. I haven’t written anything truly comedic and critical in well over a year, yet here I sit with the shades half drawn, peering out into a rainy Seattle day, ready to push the button on a site which, one would rightly deduce from the name, promises to accomplish both the afore mentioned and greatness well beyond. I find my hand is shaking, as well as a little sweaty. I also find, now that I’m looking at it, I need to clip my fingernails.