Homer Simpson is a simple man. He likes enormous portions of everything that he likes. Donuts. Bacon. Beer. And all of the other things that make life worth living. Homer, as a good many of you know, also has some experience with ex-plo-zhe-uns.
I didn’t learn gluttony from Homer. But I probably learned how to do it better from watching back-to-back episodes of The Simpsons during the early days of its syndication. On the occasion of the US soccer futbol team getting bounced from the 2010 World Cup, I chose to mute my sorrows by engaging in at least one act of gluttony. Fortunately for my liver, that act did not involve quarts of rum. (Only a single quart.) It did involve an incalcuable number of ex-plo-zhe-uns.
This weekend, I bought one ticket to get past the ticket taker at the 48-screen movie theatre near my house. On the other side of that ticket taker, three of the theatre’s auditoriums screened Knight and Day, Jonah Hex and The A-Team, respectively. All of them probably cost a bunch of money to make because each of them overflowed with ridiculous stunts and, you guessed it, ex-plo-zhe-uns.
(Okay. I’m done with that word now. I promise.)
I started my movie marathon with Knight and Day. I’m not sure why that film was titled that way. One character’s real name was alleged to be Knight. As for Day…there wasn’t any plot device I remember that relied on anything having to do with that word. Maybe the title tested well. Maybe some marketing person thought the phrase would be easy to remember. If I were in charge of naming the picture, I would have called it: Two Giant Movie Stars Who Are a Little Bit Out of Their Prime Who Will Do Some Cool Stuff Together for Two Hours. ‘Cause that’s pretty much what that movie was about. Nothing else about the film mattered. Not where the characters come from. Not what their arcs were. Not even whether the story ended happily or not. What you get is a double dose of crazy–Tom Cruise and Cameron Diaz–that has almost come to terms with their lack of sanity and still has decent chemistry together. Also, both of ’em are in really, really good shape. Like, the kind of shape that is a walking advertisement for whomever their trainers are. If I was a kajillionaire with at least four hours of free time every day, I would definitely hire Cruise’s trainer. Although Diaz’s trainer would suffice. Oh yeah…one last thing about the movie…a whole lot of shit got blown to bits.
I wanted to stick around for The A-Team, but it started about an hour after Knight and Day ended so I needed a bridge movie to keep me in the theatre. Jonah Hex wasn’t on my itinerary, but it did span the two flicks I wanted to see. I missed its first 20 minutes or so. And I left before its final reel unspooled in order to see The A-Team. During the hour or so I watched, I saw John Malkovich blow up a Civil War-era train. I also saw Josh Brolin burn down a 19th Century pop-up arena. And I saw not nearly enough of Megan Fox’s body. The short summary of my Jonah Hex experience: some of the dynamite went boom and some of it fizzled.
And that brings me to The A-Team. Did you see the trailer for this one yet? (Hell, maybe you’ve already seen the film itself.) In any case, there’s a scene where a tank is dropped from an airborne airplane. It’s a great, thunderous absurdity. And it was one of several bursting exercises in the ridiculous that made it into the final cut of the movie. Which is the only thing anyone should have expected from that flick. And that’s not a bad thing either. Sometimes, the ridiculous and the absurd is exactly what you need.
I’ve seen plenty of films that moved me. Films that explained life to me when I struggled to figure it out on my own. Films I have come to quote like some kind of Dead Sea Celluloid. Films that have become…my friends. Consequently, I know what qualifies as great fuckin’ art. And I appreciate that shit. Like, a whole, whole lot. But art isn’t always necessary. Sometimes, you need a cheap thrill. A cliche, even. Something that’s really big. And kinda dumb. And, hopefully, a little bit of fun.
‘Cause when it’s a million degrees outside and your favorite team lost the most important game of its season…big screen ex-plo-zhe-uns are one of the few things that can make you feel better.
Well, that and a quart of rum. And, possibly, a meatball sub. ‘Cause there’s never a wrong time for a meatball sub. MMMMMMM…meatball sub.
